It was then that I noticed my left arm was lightly wrapped in a somewhat gauze like material that seemed to be more for an abrasion than for a broken arm. I hefted my arm and found that it was sore yet not broken. I felt my ribs to see if they hurt and I felt no pain. I coughed to test that, but, still no pain or the taste of blood. I pulled back the covers and inspected my legs. There were some scars extending from just above the knee caps to just above the ankles, and I presumed they must have been crushed, but I could move them and wiggle my toes. There was a twinge as I moved my legs but I was overjoyed that I could feel them and use them. What I did notice, though, was that I was completely naked. No hospital gown for this patient; my only outfit was what God gave me to begin with. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and placed my feet on the floor. The floor was made of a shiny stone like material, yet it gave a little like carpet. It felt warm and soft, yet hard and resilient. It had a gloss as if it had just been waxed and polished. I ventured a little weight on my legs and they felt unsteady, my knees wobbly, so I remained in a sitting position.
I looked up and a khaki uniformed, green skinned, woman entered the room. She seemed to just pass through the wall as if it wasn’t there. She had a tray with what appeared to be some sort of medications. She placed the tray in mid air next to the bed and it hung there as if there was some sort of table under it. I was somewhat confused at what I was seeing and wondered if it was all a dream.
She smiled at me and with her gentle hands, tipped with her elegant, long fingers, guided me back on to the bed. From the tray, she took an ear piece and placed it in my right ear.
“Can you hear and understand me,” she asked? Her words were perfect English with no accent whatsoever.
“Yes,” I marveled, “I can. But how is this possible? Who are you? Where am I”?
“Please, one thing at a time,” she said as she prepared something on the tray, “we have to heal you first and then we can talk about anything you want, okay?”
“Fine, but how is it that I can understand you”?
“You have a universal translator in your ear piece and I have one in mine. It helps to bridge the gap between two different cultures and makes for complete understanding in both languages.”
“Amazing,” I said.
“Yes,” she took a small brush and began to brush some sort of oil onto the scalp of my head and forehead where I had been gashed. “Will miracles never cease?” As I thought this to myself, I wondered if she could hear my mind as well.
I felt a sort of warmness where the oil touched and a tingling sensation. It made me light headed and I felt weaker. I groaned a little as she kept administering this special oil hoping she would soon stop.
“This will fell a little disorienting to you, so please bear with me.” As she spoke to me her sensuous fingers began working the oil laden brush across the scarred areas of my legs. I began following her hands as I gazed at her tender fingers and their beauty as if those things would ease the distress I was feeling now.
The warming sensation traveled slowly through my skin and into my muscles and within a matter of a few seconds began to reach my groin. I could feel my body exude sweat and my belly tightened. My breathing came in gasps and I felt as if I was thrashing all over the bed but my body was perfectly still. I was in the midst of a hallucination and my hearing intensified to that I could hear not only my heartbeat but hers as well. She then un-wrapped my left arm and brushed the same warm, silky smooth oil onto what appeared to be nothing but a nasty gash where the bone had been poking through. There was no sign of stitches or of a cast of any kind. There were a thousand questions I wanted to ask her about how and why, where and when, but the warmth from my arm spread to my shoulder and thoracic cavity. This was all so much for me to comprehend and I didn’t understand this heightened awareness that seemed to be spreading throughout my body because as she painted my rib cage with the same oil, it completed a sort of circuit in my body that seemed to transcend my entire being into another world. I could neither talk nor move. I felt like I was actually suspended in air. Never before had I experienced a unique sensation such as this. I could feel the blood coursing through my veins moving through the many arteries that joined one another in keeping me alive. Astonished, I looked toward the closed glass doors that were thirty meters away as I tried to make some semblance of what I was capable of hearing. It was the sound of a bird’s claw penetrating the surface of a tree branch as it landed with wings outstretched. I felt the frequency of the light in the room as it changed suitably as the daylight streaming in through the glass receded and the interior light increased to compensate. I was alone, yet I felt that I was a part of every living entity in the universe. The infinite boundaries of inner and outer space became something understandable to me and I felt as if I was on the same wave length as all living matter. I could see the atoms that made up the dust modes that floated in the air and in them I saw the entire universe with thousands upon thousands of galaxies floating inside. A sort of vibration, or sound, like a tuning fork, rang in my ears and throughout my entire body; it was this that was giving me my life force and healing power. I understood without comprehending.
These sessions with the green skinned, khaki clad women went on for multiple treatments. In between these times, I would be asleep and each time I awoke, a woman would appear and begin to brush the medicating oils on my naked flesh. The scars healed from this miracle oil and my skin showed no signs of any damage in the least.
During their many visits to my room, I found out that I was on a planet that was called Ethos and I was in a region inhabited by the Zamanow’s. The Zamanow’s used an interesting mixture of herbal medicine and psychokinetic healing. They ‘thought’ to knit the damage to my internal organs and bones and used the herbal oils as a sort of conduit for maxim efficiency and to piece together my skin. The substances I would normally need in order to survive were provided by pure thought as well. It was during one of these sessions that I was informed should I find it necessary to relieve myself that there was a corner of the garden outside just for that purpose. The structure was durable and clean and had no lingering smell as most any other out house one might find anywhere. They informed me it was self cleaning. It felt weird not to have to eat or drink and I never felt thirsty or hungry. As for exercise, they ‘thought’ me into shape which was definitely a strange experience to be sure. I had no needs or wants of any kind, with the sole exception of desiring an article of clothing due to the fact that I was naked as the day I was born. They did not provide me with any type of apparel whatsoever. When I inquired about this, they only said that it would impede the healing ‘thoughts’ and oils from working and that their earnest desire was for me to be as fit as possible. This was certainly a different planet with different customs and a whole lot of different people; all of whom seemed to be women. Never once did I see any males.
There were no shower facilities for me to use and each day one of the women would come in and give me a sponge bath. I offered to bathe myself but the women always insisted that they do the bathing, besides, and it seemed there was a certain amount of herbal medication in the water used that promoted healing and the full operation of all bodily functions. “When in Rome”, I thought, besides, having a lot of pretty green skinned women sponge me down every day was kind of a thrill.
One day, while engaged in the ritualistic sponge bath, I sprang an erection. I was embarrassed and blushed and turned my head to pretend not to notice.
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