🚀 go-pugleaf

Angels, light, God/Father/Creator, relationships, abuse, domination,
universal laws, power, fear, time, vibrational & dimensional travel,
all religions, forgiveness, judgment, "rapture', good & evil, ghosts,
transitions, health, life & death, love, discrimination, animals,
responsibility, self determination, NDE tunnel & light, energy,
spirit, internal peace, disasters, equality, truth, Sodom & Gomorrah,
colors, physical appearance or incapacity, 9th Insight, prophecy

In truth, all who are seeking truth are not as far apart as they
think.

If you are interested in any of the above topics, or many others, then
this new book, 
HAZE, KS -- APPROACHING THUNDER, 
will be of interest to you.  Based upon a real personal experience by
the author about seven years ago, this story will take you places
you've never been before and allow you to understand many things
thought to be rhetorical in questioning.  

This is not a 'new age' book, it is truth for all religions and
individuals who seek truth.

The information contained within the book may be accepted on many
levels -- as simple entertainment or as answers to your deepest
questions, depending upon how it is approached, and how deep the
inquirer wishes to look.

This book is 8 1/2" x 11" in thermal binding.  As such, it is less
than 100 pages long.  

Following is an excerpt from the beginning of the book.  If you are
interested, ordering information follows the excerpt.

(* * * * *   = notification there is text missing)
____________________________________________________________

		Living with guilt is living in the past.  
		Living with fear is living in the future.  
		Turn it all loose.

	Learn to live now.  It is the only time that is real!

____________________________________________________________

			HAZE, KS
		APPROACHING THUNDER
			by  BAHNI

	Driving past the almost broadside vehicle parked across the two center
lanes of the four lane bridge was, by now, something Kira Chamberlain
accepted as standard fare.  She and her father had been visiting the
same small Kansas town annually for the past eight years and there
always seemed to be something blocking the center two lanes of that
bridge.  This year it was a white Chevrolet pickup that appeared to be
almost ten years old.  But that was just incidental, because it
changed every year.  If it wasn't a pickup truck, it was a combine, or
a trailer, or a seed spreader.  Each appeared to be clean and in good
condition.  One year it had even been an old-fashioned buckboard,
straight out of the 1800's.  But, whatever showed up, something was
always there.  Her father invariably crossed the bridge using the
right-hand lane and paid no attention to the partial roadblock, as
though it wasn't even there.  She had never found it important enough
to question him about his knowledge of it, for she felt he knew as
little as she did.  It was just a strange town they were visiting --
strange, but enchanting.
	The timing of their visit was always the same, too.  The two were
packed and ready to leave shortly before noon on the sixth day after
her school was out, no matter what the date.  Kira wondered casually
whether these trips would continue after she went to college next
year?  Would they still take the trips?  Would they still travel
together if they did?  Would the time-frame stay the same?
	She loved the view after they crossed the bridge, never tiring of
seeing it as though for the first time.  Most of the area they drove
past was gently rolling hills of almost ripe wheat or short wild
plains grass.  Both growths had a regularity about them that made the
short green or golden stalks a pleasure to watch as their leaves, long
or short, twisted side-to-side in the light winds of the open plains.
Farmers in such vastly open lands frequently planted many long
adjacent rows of varieties of trees to act as windbreaks against
losing their topsoil to the surrounding states, but the few older
growth trees along this road didn't look as though they had been
planned.  As a rule, except for the occasional dirt road off to one
side or the other, that was about it.  No houses to speak of after
they crossed the bridge until they began to enter the small town Kira
had come to know as Hays, Kansas.  She'd never looked it up on a map,
never had any reason to.  She just knew it was a beautiful place and
she always enjoyed being there.
	Her father -- most people, including herself, called him Willy -- had
never explained their mission to this small town each year.  She was
usually left to her own devices while he traveled in and out of the
little country town taking care of his businesses, mostly having to do
with petroleum and oil field equipment and supplies.  For those days
they were in residence she had always been on her own.  Money was
never a problem, anything she needed was put on a tab, assumably so
her father could take care of it before they left, always the morning
of the third day after their arrival.
	The tiny town was situated across the top of the highest hill around,
spread out not too far in any given direction.  There hadn't been any
new buildings built in the area for as long as Kira had been there to
see, and it looked like much longer than that.  Most of the buildings
appeared to date from around the early 1900's, perhaps as late as 1920
or so.  The streets were clean and paved with brick from the outside
edge of the first town property all the way through town, at least
that's how it appeared.  Kira had never been out to the other side of
town, an oversight she intended to correct this year.
	They inevitably arrived at the eastern edge of town just at sunset,
thus framing the outline of the low buildings against the beautiful
evening sky of this still spring season.  With the reflections of the
golden-red glow of the fading light mirrored on the windows of the
buildings on the main street, the scene had the effect of living in a
fairy tale to the excited girl.  Such enchantment was something of
books and dreams.  The glow always cast a gentle haze over the
landscape, diminishing only as their car pulled into the town itself
and the sun was temporarily blocked from view.
	Willy pulled up in front of the old six-story hotel, the tallest
building in town.  The south- facing building stood like an enormous
vanguard over the rest of the town.  It seemed far larger than a town
this size should need.  The bricks on the outside of the structure
were the dark, deep red type, the kind with the sharp edges that never
seem to get chips in them.  All the extra ornamentations surrounding
the windows and doors on the first floor and the top floor were
constructed of fine white concrete.  They were quite delicate and
intricate for such a small town in the middle of nowhere, Kira
thought each year as they arrived.  But someone had certainly taken
great pride in the construction, special care that had no other
evidence in any of the surrounding one or two story buildings.
	The townspeople had by now become friends with the arriving pair and
several people waved at them as they exited the car to enter the
hotel.  Kira waved back, but only a cursory wave, just enough to be
polite.  She only had a certain amount of time to get to her room.
	Willy checked them in and Kira took her own key, the same key -- room
612 -- she had been picking up each of the past eight years.  Her
father always had room 605 at the other end of the hall, so their
comings and goings wouldn't bother each other.  Without waiting for
her dad, Kira ran to the elevator and punched the button for the sixth
floor.  Very slowly the door closed behind her.  She knew it would be
a while before their floor would be reached by the ancient
contraption.  She had a strong faith she would reach her destination
each time she entered this early example of elevator engineering, but
for the life of her, sometimes she didn't know why.
	Once in the elevator, the familiar smells pushed their way into
recognition in her conscious mind.  There is a certain marvelous
fragrance that only old hotels -- the kind where there is a thick
carpet runner down the center of the hallway with six inch borders of
rich dark wood on either side -- seem to have.  Perhaps it was the wax
used to shine the wooden portion of the floors and other wood
embellishments in the building.  Perhaps it was in combination with
the finish and the old carpet, which surely had been installed when
the building was new, though it did not appear well worn.  When in the
elevator, there was also a smell, a pleasant one, of something that
might have been oil or grease to lubricate the mechanical workings
around her.  Whatever these smells were, this was the only place she
had ever encountered them in such a pleasant enriching way.
	Finally the elevator stopped.  The antiquated machinery seemed to
think for a while before opening the door to the outside, a deliberate
diversion Kira felt was designed to keep her from her goal.  The
process was the same every year.  She always made it.
	She ran the short distance down the hallway toward the left, cut
sharply to the right into another long hallway, and stopped at the
last door on the left.  The ancient passkey was pressed urgently into
the lock and turned one complete turn to the right.  The door opened
when she turned the ornate silver doorknob and she ran quickly across
the room to the window on the west side to look out.  The old green
velvet drapes were already parted, the sheers beneath them were
quickly brushed aside.  They never locked these windows, so she easily
threw up the sash and leaned forward, far out the screenless opening.
Sure enough, the sun was three-quarters down behind the farthermost
hill.  Kira stood completely still, letting the breeze blow through
her shoulder length brown hair, watching, not blinking as the last
rays of direct sunlight diminished up the side of the building until
they were no longer illuminating the white glistening concrete above
her head.  She felt as though she was at the top of the world.  She
could see for miles and miles in all directions.  Before she left this
year, she made a mental note, she would first discover how to get to
the roof.

* * * * * 

	Just as Kira was about to enter the elevator she saw, off to her left
and at the back of the lobby behind the area where the desk was, an
unobtrusive little door with three small letters centered in the top
panel.  She walked across the carpeted floor and opened the heavy
mahogany door, revealing a working ice machine and a small table with
two chairs, looking somewhat like the old-fashioned soda- fountain
setup in an ice cream parlor.  She looked around for any containers to
carry ice in, but found nothing.  She had known for many years that
there were no drink machines to be found in the building and, already
being thirsty, she also knew she would want something cold to drink
before bed.  Her mind's eye immediately focused on the container and
glass she had seen earlier sitting beside the sink in her room, so she
exited the small anteroom and headed toward the elevator.
	There was no intensive reason to hurry, so it was almost five minutes
before she reentered the elevator on the sixth floor with a small
waxed cardboard bucket in hand.  Such an item, one made from natural
materials, didn't surprise her much for the image she had of the
entire town was one of care and appreciation for the elements and
creatures around it.  Come to think of it, she thought as the door to
the elevator closed in front of her, she couldn't ever remember seeing
any animals in this town.  And maybe it was just always the time of
year she visited, but there weren't insects either.  Thus, the doors
and windows of the hotel could be left open and never a mosquito nor
moth had ever bothered her.  Well, she reasoned, they were an awfully
clean people here, maybe they never left anything around to breed
bugs.  She dismissed it from her mind for the moment, beginning now to
anticipate the opening of the old style elevator doors at the first
floor.
	The elevator had always moved so slowly that it was impossible to
discern motion after the initial jerk suggesting a sudden change of
inertia.  Usually this indication was only felt at the beginning of
the elevator trip, whether it was going up or down.  The cessation of
movement at the end of the journey was always too gentle to be
perceived consciously.  She had felt the slight jerk after the door
had closed, but now there was nothing except an almost imperceptible
sinking feeling.
	But the longer she waited for the doors to open, the more uncertain
she was as to the origin of that feeling.  Instead of downward
movement, it could be just the feeling in her stomach that was telling
her she might very well be stuck in this ancient contraption.  Since
there was no one about at night, she could be there until morning.
	The strange sinking feeling did not dissipate.  If anything it grew in
intensity.  If she were actually moving downward continuously, she
must be several floors beneath the lobby by now, even as slowly as
this elevator moved.  She just couldn't believe it.  Everything in
this whole town had always been close to perfection in her eyes, why
now would the elevator not work?  Luckily for her, she thought, she
had already gone to the bathroom before she left the room, so she'd be
safe on that aspect, at least until morning if she had to stay here
that long.  Someone would probably first want to use this contraption
around dawn.  They'd find her then.  Still, there was that constant
sinking feeling.
	Kira tried pushing several of the buttons, pulling the door open
manually, and looking at the ceiling for the access hatch, but it
appeared to be difficult to reach unassisted from the inside.  She
yelled loudly a couple of times, but that was just to make herself
feel better, because she knew there was no one to hear her.  Finally,
she moved into one of the back corners of the small space, leaned
against the walls and allowed herself to slide into a sitting position
to wait.
	Suddenly the door started to open.  It had been what felt like about
fifteen minutes since the doors had first closed behind her on the
sixth floor of the hotel.  The abrupt change of circumstance had
startled Kira, but she didn't pause before raising herself into a
standing position.  She was quickly ready to exit as soon as the door
was wide enough to walk through.  Yet, when it was fully open, she was
still standing inside.
	

	What she was looking at was not the lobby.  It wasn't any of the other
floors of the hotel that were familiar to her, either.  What she could
see from her restricted vantage point was a large open area evenly
illuminated by a brilliant but soft iridescent white light.  Curious,
she moved from side to side within the confines of the small chamber,
trying to see walls, but there were none within her scope of vision.
Everything was quiet.  No sound at all reached her.  The only
difference between this and the closed elevator was that now she could
see the door was open and something was beyond the restrictions of the
small compartment.  Was she dreaming?  Had she fallen asleep and not
known it? 	
	She looked down at her hands, the waxed ice container was still in her
grasp.  She remembered something someone had said from early childhood
and she brought her left hand up to her mouth and bit herself hard on
her knuckle until it caused her enough pain to stop.  She chuckled to
herself with embarrassment.  That pain wasn't supposed to be there if
this was just a dream, at least that's what she had been told.
	Cautiously, she moved along the rich wooden elevator walls to the
doorway.  From a position next to the instrument panel she warily put
her hand out the open doorway.  Nothing happened.  She moved closer to
the door and slid her foot outward, past the metal slideway marking
the bottom restrictions of the door.  Sure enough, it was solid out
there, even if the floor didn't look real to her.  Holding on to the
door opening for security, she slowly moved her head and part of her
shoulders into the open space, looking around as far in each direction
as she could.  No one appeared.  Nothing changed.
	But this time, when she looked, she thought the space she was looking
into was defined somehow, maybe not by walls like she was used to, but
the space didn't feel like it was boundless.  Withdrawing into the
familiar chamber where she still felt connected to the real world,
Kira leaned against one of the front panels, facing the back of the
elevator, away from what was outside the door.  This was something
that felt like she was in an episode of the television series,
"Twilight Zone," with Rod Serling.  This shouldn't be real.  She
pinched herself, hard.  Pain again.  'I can't be dreaming,' she
thought.
	Fear tried to rise within her, but she pushed it away from her
conscious mind.  It wasn't rational -- neither the fear nor where she
was.  But she felt strongly that where she was and what was going on,
no matter what it was, was happening to her for a reason.  She knew
herself to be sound of mind, not given to irrational thoughts.
Nothing had happened just before this to change that opinion of
herself.  Wherever she was, whatever was going on must somehow be for
her ultimate benefit.  What was there to fear besides the ultimate --
death?  Was she even afraid of death?  Not of the death itself, she
knew, perhaps the process of dying, especially if it was painful.  But
the only pain she had felt here had been inflicted on her by herself.
She chuckled slightly at the irony.  Maybe she was dead already?  She
took a deep breath and stood away from the wall supporting her.  If
she was dead, then what was there to fear at all?  
	It was time to move forward.  Although the door of the elevator had
stayed open, who was to say when it might close and secure her within
the confining walls again.  She'd rather have other options to
explore.
	With a little more boldness than before she exited the elevator
completely, placing her feet one in front of the other in small steps.
For the first few steps she balanced herself with a hand remaining on
the elevator wall, but that was removed quickly once she realized her
balance was not in question.  She dropped the hand unconsciously
because her eyes were filled with the wonderful luminescent light
before her.  She could not ever remember seeing any kind of light like
it before.  It was an exceedingly bright, pure and warm white.  
	Looking at her hands, brought up together in front of her, she played
with the radiance of the light, trying to make shadows by covering one
hand with the other.  She even made a kind of air pocket between the
palms of her hands held together, putting her eye next to the space to
block out any light.  This was the kind of thing she could remember
doing as a child when wanting to look at something in daylight that
was supposed to glow in the dark.  But this time there was no darkness
in her hand.  The light was somehow not excluded from the area, it
seemed to permeate everything around it.  Maybe that was why there
appeared to be no walls, no restrictive areas, because the light
didn't reflect, it was simply a part of everything.
	Something began to register in her brain and she looked down at her
clothing.  Though she knew herself to be wearing blue jeans and a blue
and pink print top, the clothing now reflected only different shades
of white at her.  Her skin still had color, but only just barely, as
it appeared to be just another shade of the white more than anything
else at this point.  She ran her hands across the fabric of the jeans,
awed by the absoluteness of its whiteness.  Thinking back to her
science classes she remembered that color, or the appearance of color
was light reflected from a given item on a given wavelength.  All the
other colors of the spectrum would be absorbed by the item.  There
were millions of different colors and combinations of colors that
could be reflected by the different properties of each part of a
material.  
	'Wait a minute,' she thought, 'how could there be different 'shades'
of white?'
	She looked again at the pattern of her blouse.  After a moment she
realized the appearance of different shades was attributable to the
variance in properties of the material, mainly the differences in
density.  Added pigment must have changed the density of each given
area of thread.  She lifted the bottom of her blouse to look at the
underside without the print on it.  Sure enough, solid one tone white.

	She pulled some of her hair around from behind her shoulders and
couldn't help but laugh at the sight.  As white as snow.  'So this is
what I'll look like in my old age,' she thought.  Say, maybe white
hair had just lost its ability to reflect the light.  She fingered her
hair thoughtfully.  Dye must just be an additive to add that
reflective quality back in at various levels.  Funny how your mind
wanders.
	Aware once again of her surroundings, Kira looked all around her.
Behind her was still the open elevator door.  She thought for a
minute, then gradually stepped back into it, all the while looking at
her clothing.  Once she was just past the entrance, the variety of
pigmentation became more apparent.  The walls of the cubicle were a
rich brown only at a distance from the door.  They faded into lighter,
more washed out shades of beige the closer to the opening they were.
Why hadn't she noticed this before?  She stepped back outside the
confinement, noticing this time how her feelings were affected by the
transition.
	There had almost been a tightness in her body while she was inside the
elevator.  That was totally absent out here.  Fear had tried to get a
hold of her when inside, but out here it was all gone.  From someplace
inside her there seemed to be a kind of overall joy and excitement she
felt good about.  An incredible feeling of peace grew stronger with
each passing moment.  One of the reasons she had always enjoyed the
little town was the overwhelming sense of peace she felt each time she
entered the area, but this was even stronger, more pervading, more
complete.  She wondered if it had anything to do with the light?
	Kira looked around again.  To her right as she exited the elevator
there appeared to be no change in the whiteness, neither in density
nor shape.  To her left she thought she detected an openness, like
there was a room or extension in that direction.  It was more an
impression than actual visual perception.  She moved, curious but
without hesitation, in that direction, rounding the outside corner of
the elevator casing within a few steps.
	A gasp escaped her mouth immediately.  Her feet, forward movement
forgotten, stopped  mid-stride.  Her mind raced as she tried
desperately to understand what she was seeing.  Before her, not two
arm lengths away, stood her mother.  Dressed in a simple long white
robe-like garment, she stood quietly with her hands gently clasped
together at the fingers in front of her.  It appeared she had been
there for some time.  She smiled at the sight of her daughter, as
though not at all surprised to see the shock on her face.
	Kira was speechless for several moments as she tried to take in what
she saw before her.  She wanted to turn and run back to the safety of
the elevator but her feet just would not move.  Hundreds of
disconnected thoughts raced through her mind, but none of them made
any sense.  It took several tries before she was able to find enough
coordination within herself to make speech possible.
	"Am . . . am I . . . are you . . . ?" she took a deep breath, amazed
at her ability to do so, "Bo?  Are you my mother?  Are you really Bo?"
	"Yes."  The smile was warm, understanding, comforting.
	"Am I . . . am I dead?"  Kira's eyes were wide.
	"Some might think so, but no, you're not."
	"But you're my mother, aren't you?"
	"Yes, I do remember saying that just a moment ago."  The smile was
still comforting, tolerant.
	"But . . . you're . . . " she didn't want to say it, "you're . . .
dead.  Aren't you?"  
	"Well, from your perspective to this point, yes.  I believe I parted
from you and your father some time ago."
	"Twelve years ago, if I'm still in real time."  Kira still couldn't
believe her eyes.  This must, absolutely must be some kind of a dream.
Surely she was really asleep in her bed in the hotel, or maybe she had
fallen asleep in the stalled elevator.
	"No, Kira, you're not dreaming.  But this . . . "
	"Wait a minute, how did you know that . . . what I was thinking?"
	"All that is going on about you now is real.  It's not a dream.  But
it will require extensive explanation, more than I can give you.  I'm
here mostly to be of assistance to you, to help you understand, and to
give you a reference in what you call real time to help you to
comprehend what you're going to see and hear.  We've been waiting for
you for a long time."

* * * * * 

	"Now," Wynona [Kira's grandmother] changed the subject abruptly, "as
you stand here looking at me, where are you?"
	Kira looked confused for a moment.  She didn't know what to say, not
wanting to say the wrong thing.  "Here . . ." she hesitated, "talking
with you?"
	"Yes, my dear," Wynona's eyes lit with amusement.  She knew how
initially confusing the next few minutes would be for the girl.  "But
where, what is the location where you believe yourself to be?"
	"You mean like the town or building or something?" Kira asked.
	"Yes.  If I were to ask you to draw a map of where you are, describe
it to me."
	"Well," Kira thought hard, "I'm in a small town in Kansas, probably in
western Kansas, though I'm not certain of its exact location
geographically.  The name of the town is Hays, I believe.  At least  .
. .  I think it might be.  I was in the six story hotel in the center
of town, in the elevator, but it kept going down for a long time so I
must assume I am pretty far beneath street level.  Right?"  She looked
back at the face of her mentor.
	"Your perceptions tell you this is so.  But it is completely in error.
You are nowhere you imagine yourself to be."

__________________________________

To order this book, send a money order for $15.95 to
BAHNI
c/o P O Box 496823  NR/NDD
GARLAND, TEXAS   PZ 75049

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After reading this book, if you have any questions, email 
	dreamer@airmail.net