The Conclusion of Monument Valley by Magda Santos
As we continued our journey, I’d dream of King Arthur. He’d come to me, but I rebuffed him. I’ve lived in New York all my life and I know not everything is what it seems. It didn’t seem a good idea to go along with someone I had just met for a few hours in a valley. I’d come across lots of people claiming to be spiritual. They didn’t always have the experience they claimed. They weren’t as skilled as they said they were, and neither did they have my best interest in mind.
We finally got home to Florida and I didn’t see King Arthur in my dreams again but I was still drawn to the Valley as I slept at night. After some prayers and preparations, I finally relented and decided to go to the archaeological site, the place that called me. I walked over to the huge smooth stone and laid down, looking up at the night sky through the immense opening at the top.
A few seconds later two large men dressed in native clothing appeared. Each of them grabbed one of my arms. The funny thing is I didn’t feel like struggling. They were walking with great determination to some destination unknown to me. Within a few more seconds, I was standing in front of a pedestal with a large bowl on top. My two guides were still with me but I didn’t know what to do next. Then one of them put his hand on the back of my head and pushed it into the water in the bowl. I didn’t feel like I was drowning, and I had no fear at all. When I lifted my head up, I was relaxed and felt very strong and sure of myself.
Then everything shifted and I found myself on top of a mesa. I was walked a few more steps then turned to the left. I’m asked to kneel. Someone points and whispers in my ear, “the storyteller.” I feel a heavy blanket placed on my shoulders. It keeps me focused for a few more seconds. I find myself searching my thoughts for meaning and then I’m home, in my body. The sound of birds chirping at my window wakes me. I look over to the night stand and it’s time to start getting ready for work.
As I brush my teeth, I begin to think of Percival, the Arthurian knight. He walked into the Fisher King’s castle, without knowing what to expect, just as I walked into the valley. But because of decorum, it’s not polite to ask questions of your host. Percival didn’t learn that the Grail was right in front of him and that he could heal the Fisher King. King Arthur of Monument Valley had a vision to give me but it took some work for me to find it. There were layers of disguise to protect the sacred from disrespectful eyes. I showed who I was and that I could be trusted with such a spiritual gift.
Read part one of King Arthur of Monument Valley