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It wasn't to an orgy, but I had been invited along with a friend to a party. It was the early 1970s. The event was held in the basement of a house in Salt Lake City, a region where the houses were constructed perhaps before 1900. The entrance of the apartment was some steps down. At the subterranean landing before the entrance, there was the gatekeeper, a young man named Chuck, the brother of my date, who demanded payment for access to the goings-on inside.

The visitors who had arrived just before us had their tickets, stubs from a roll like those from the movies and they went inside; two other young people, also in front of us, demanded to be let in without tickets and after some pleading and discussion they were turned away. Weeks before, Chuck had distributed tickets and this is how he limited attendance.  When it came our turn to pass the gatekeeper – my friend was the gatekeeper’s sister and that's how I had to come to be invited – we already had our tickets. It was our turn to enter. I remember there was a somewhat awkward exchange of transactional activity at the point of the ticket verification. I had something in my hands, perhaps it was a drink. The ticket was in my wallet; I had to hand the drink to our gatekeeper, Chuck, to hold temporarily; I had to find my ticket from in my wallet; I had to give the tickets to Chuck and retrieve my drink and then proceed inside.

It was the hippie era.  I don't remember if we had smoked before arrival.

I am not an avid partygoer. The room was full of music, subdued light and dancers. People were having a very good time. I am not a dancer but I did find myself mingling on the dance floor and surprisingly found myself dancing with a friendly woman, her baby in arms, who was gyrating to the music with her infant. The thing that was memorable was that during the dance her right breast suddenly jumped out from her neck line. She wore one of those loose tie-died dresses that people were wont to wear in those days. She was embarrassed and so was I.

It's was a large room not well furnished, perhaps underlying most of the house. It didn't seem sanitary. There were several long tables set up along one wall of the basement, the kind whose legs can fold up for storage, no tablecloth. On them was food, paper plates, celery and chicken wings and things like that. It was all very unappetizing to me, maybe so because we had arrived in the middle of the party and everyone else had already gotten to eat the good stuff and what I saw had been the leftovers.





ev·i·dence –noun

.  that which tends to prove or disprove something; ground for belief.

2. something that makes plain or clear; an indication or sign: His flushed look was visible evidence of his fever.

About the week before we attended this event I had a vivid dream. In my dream I went to a party and just as in the reality to follow, there was also an awkward exchange of items at the entrance to a party – you hold this while I hold that and there was confusion about who would be allowed in.  In my dream the party was more orgiastic, at least there were many naked people and amorous activity. There was also a long array of unappetizing food, this time not laid out on a table but along a wall, on the floor.

I didn't recognize the similarity of my dream with real life at the time of the frivolities.  That dawned on me later.

Some weeks afterward I recognized the uncanny parallels between these events. I suppose that's why, now 40 years later, I still remember both of these things. The unusual transactions at the door stand out the most; then the similarity between the unappetizing food and its display; but there was more sexual content in the imaginary party as well as at the real one.

I don't attribute what I describe here has some underlying flow or connectedness or some theme of the universe. This is just something that happened. But I think many in the spiritual, faith-based, flower-child, psychic, Granola community would consider this is evidence or probably even proof of a higher or alternate reality.

I don't think I would remember any details of that party now if it hadn't been for the uncanny resemblance of my vivid dream and the reality of that evening. Some may say that if I didn't believe even a little bit in precognition or the like then I wouldn't remember anything about that party or about the dream.

But I don't think so.  I think it's a sort of lemma for the proposition that things can  just happen.

The Grand Design
by Stephen Hawking

"It is not necessary to invoke
God to light the blue touch
paper and set the universe

"There may never come a time when you realize that everything that you think is important and true is false.  There may never come a time when you come to understand that your parents have lied to you about many of the important things in life.  When you understand why you do not believe in other gods, then you will understand why I don't believe in yours."

   Is the Universe an Alien's Simulation?  
   Are We Living in the Matrix?

   The Standard model

   Nag Hammadi Codex - On the Origin of the World
   Peter Lynds: On a Finite Universe with no Beginning or End
   Why do Americans still dislike Atheists?

Books about time
   Math / Logic Library