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through it like running water. I found myself relaxing,
letting the water run over me. My body did, in fact, feel very heavy, so heavy
that I knew I could not lift it. And yet, there was the imperative that I
bad to leave!
    I stood up and I walked over to
join Mosiah. When I looked back, I was not surprised to see the heavy body
still lying in the bed, slumbering soundly, to all appearances.
    My fears were forgotten in my
wonder and awe.
    I started to move toward the
door, thinking to go through it and down the stairs to my master’s bedroom, as
I was accustomed, but Mosiah stopped me.
    “You are no longer constrained by
physical barriers, Reuven. A thought will take you to Saryon.”
    And he spoke truly. The moment I
thought about being with my master, I was there beside him. At the sight of me,
Saryon smiled and nodded and then, hesitantly, as if having to relearn skills
long forgotten, his soul left his body.
    I was not surprised to see his
spirit suffused with a soft radiant white glow; a distinct contrast to Mosiah,
whose spirit seemed cloaked with the same black robes his body wore.
    My master was pained by this, as
I could tell. And so could Mosiah.
    “Once—you remember, Father—my
soul was bright and crystal clear as Reuven’s. The dark and terrible things I
have seen since have left their mark upon me. But we must hurry. They will wait
only until they think you are asleep. Don’t be afraid, I will not let them harm
either of you.”
    Mosiah’s soul slid back into its
body. He spoke a word, reached out with his hand as if to some invisible door,
pushed on nothing, and walked inside.
    “Hurry!” he commanded. “Follow
me.”
    The mind thinks of the strangest
things at the most inappropriate times. I remembered, suddenly, a television
cartoon I had seen as a child, in which the character—perhaps a rabbit, I’m not
certain—is being chased through the forest by a hunter with a gun. The rabbit
is cornered, apparently, until he opens a hole in the cartoon, crawls inside,
and pulls the hole in after him, leaving the hunter extremely befuddled.
    Mosiah had done the very same
thing. He had opened a hole in our bedroom and was urging us to crawl inside!
    Saryon, having lived for many,
many years in the magical world of Thimhallan, was much more accustomed to such
arcane manifestations than I was. He immediately entered the hole, then beckoned to me to follow. I started to cross the room,
remembered that I didn’t have to rely on my feet, and wished myself at my
master’s side.
    I was in the hole. The hole
closed behind me and formed a bubble around us, holding us suspended in the
air, floating somewhere near the ceiling of Saryon’s bedroom.
    “A Corridor?” Saryon asked, amazed. “Here on
Earth?”
    I must mention, by the way, that
we did not speak, but communicated mind to mind. And it occurred to me that, in
this spirit realm, I was no longer mute. I could talk and be heard. The
knowledge filled me with such trembling joy and terrible confusion that I was
immediately rendered more silent than I had ever been in the physical realm.
    “Not as you mean it, Father. Not
a Corridor in time and space such as we had on Thimhallan,” Mosiah replied. “That
skill has been lost to us, and we have not regained it. But we do have the
ability to slip inside one of time’s folds.”
    I must try to explain the
sensation of being hidden in a “fold” of time, as Mosiah called it. The only
way I can put this is to say that it was very much like hiding behind the folds
of a heavy curtain. And, in fact, I began to feel an almost smothering
constraint upon me, which is caused by, so I learned later, the knowledge that
time was passing for my body and I—the spirit— was standing still.
    The sensation is not as bad, I
understand, for those who enter the fold with both mind and body, for one has
only to step out again to be caught up in time’s flow. But, despite the fact
that my body was slumbering, I began to feel