TRANSCENDENCE

In 2001, I had a dream. I was transported into another reality from within this dream, where I heard “Sound” for the first time : raindrops falling onto grass, branches and rocks. I took consciouness of sight from the direction of sounds, and the sense of reality was pure, untainted and unclaimable. I experienced freedom and met a soul I lived many lives with. Upon awakening, Alexiel was born. This is the story of the Dragons and Phoenixes, chasing after the rulers of worlds for peace, freedom and their true origins.

The sense of reality that poured from this moment could not be compared to lucid dreams, not that I knew at the time, but time taught me the difference.

Transcendence begins on Earth, in London, recounting a real-life event on Ebury street (Victoria), mixed with a surreal element, before I head back to Blythe Hill Fields in Catford. There, I am taken through a gate to Tearh, a planet part of a separate timeline and universe where another humanity exists.

After meeting dozen individuals of my book, matching in descriptions and energies, after experiencing years later other transcending dreams continuing on the reality of the first dream I had, and, out-of-the-world experiences, my faith and religion became the power of dreams, resonance, spirituality, natural energies and people.

As a musician, my book was written while listening to music: Transcendence is also the playlist of my life, as each chapter has a dedicated track. I invite you to listen as much as I invite you to create your own atmosphere, be it through music or the sound of your environment. Here below is the introduction of it all:

Chapter 0.0 – Introduction


I said, once upon a time, that people think that nothing can change their lives. They see life as a long steady river. I decided to jump out of the boat, swim ashore and run into the forest.


Me: Alex, 17 years old. Origins? Unknown. Somewhere in Africa. Or so I thought since I was black. What I had learned about my origins taught me that it was all irrelevant. Finding out exactly from where I came from made no sense. The more I learned, the less I could understand what I was supposed to represent. I stopped inquiring about it when I was around 15. In my head, I had found my peace. I had built my comfort zone, my home, my sanctuary, all alone. I needed nothing and no one else.


I was fairly tall, closing into the metre 90. I was slim with dense and sturdy bones, which held my long and defined muscles together. I was strong, with a crazy metabolism and it had always been difficult for me to accumulate more muscles. I kept a fade haircut most of the time, a short buzz very thin on the sides. I was never into stand out hairstyles. One day, I would have dreadlocks of some kind.


My eyes, brown with a hint of pale black and surrounded by a thin layer of blue had been described as full of brilliance though dormant, and even empty sometimes. I rarely smiled. I would often prefer to raise a smile. It felt fake. Even if I was not a liar. I disliked doing things that I did not mean. I used to smile a lot. And then, I stopped caring.


I gave off a cold and distant feeling, to the extent that even sickness could not reach me. I was barely ill. As a matter of fact, I had not been ill in so long that I could not remember the last time I was sick. Doctors always said that I was one of those specimens with a near perfect health.


I grew up fast, too fast for my age and body. I was practically never sick, yet I was experiencing back problems. A lot. It was no fun. I loved doing sports and it was killing me, one session at a time. Pain was not the only trouble I was going through. Nevertheless, I was rarely ill, and my skin healed very well. Was I luckier than others? Was it due to my black genes? I did not believe in luck. And when some would say that I was gifted, I considered my gifts to be a curse in this world.


My outstanding talents placed me even higher as an outsider. It was hard to accept someone that was better than you. I was not arrogant, only, I just knew everything well before others my age. I was constantly right and even when I was not, I could find a way to make myself right. Ardent, athletic, assertive, airhead... the numbers of adjectives which could have described me and began with an A never seemed to come to an end. Good thing I was called Alexander. It was not my fault that I was better than everyone in a lot of categories. It had been enforced into me: success, win, excel, overachieve, be the best.


In this world, where right and wrong came to mean an actual thing -even when neither of them is an absolute truth- why not be right?


I lacked a general interest in everything. Only a few subjects ever captivated me for a long period of time. I had quickly learned to live in my own world. I had yet to find any answers, any proof that life meant something and that all our struggles and battles were not worthless. I dissociated from society, altogether. I lived there, and my reality was elsewhere.

My mind was my sanctuary. I could look up to the sky and escape.


I often wondered if people dreamt as much as I did. Did they imagine another self, on Earth or even somewhere else? Sometimes the change would be physical: to look normal, to fit in. Being black in a society of white, pale skinned colour individuals was hard, even though we lived in the 21st century. Racial issues still existed and survived the evolution of mankind. It was not what I defined as evolution. Such matters had no effects on me. The reason why I wondered what it felt to be part of this thing people had named normality was out of pure curiosity.


There had been times when I considered being more outgoing or bubbly as British people would say. It was not who I was. I was alone and I enjoyed my loneliness. Those were the moments when I was totally free. I had not found my true identity so far. I had not come to the point where I was being myself. My personalities were hitting each other, rolling around and melting, trying to create one unique block. I did not know who I was.


I had developed quite the unique ability to be able to accept everything and have no regrets. I could deal with everything, even if it left me with a sour taste. For me, I believed that everything was fine because I realised what sort of ridiculous world we were stuck in. People wasted their time, nearly their entire time worrying and chasing after the silliest things. They consumed their life force running after concepts and materialistic possession, which did not amount to anything in the end.


They chased an idea of love, of success and happiness that some other people had defined for everyone, back then. They could not realise it, that all this amounted to nothing. None of it was real.


The happiness inside their body was also an illusion, an illusion they had both accepted and created from others. It was not a serious thing. I could not understand how people had managed to end up being so stuck inside this virtual world that previous people had created. It made no sense. I could not be the only person thinking this, and yet, nobody had managed to break this space.

…

I have often felt stuck, despite moments of sure certainty when it came to publishing my work. For many years, this story was my own, so I would never forget. In 2023, I reached out to publishing houses and looked for agents. Despite receiving positive feedback and offers, it was requested for me to pay hefty sums to publish my books while losing most of the copyrights and royalties, and with very few guarantees of return.

I have withheld my independent publishing through global platforms that have the monopole of books and its industry, and feed our creativity to A.I agents and data centres. Instead, I would like to offer to those interested in reading my first book or supporting my series a place for financial aid through a limited press-on-demand release for those that I feel resonate with Transcendence : head here TO THE INNER HEART!

Finally, I wish to dedicate this final set of words to the following individuals for believing, motivating, pushing and correcting me through my most personal and longest piece of work and self. This reality exists because you have all helped me carry my dream, and I am forever thankful :

Ines-Anael Olenga Disashi, my first and longest supporter!
Ornella-Astrid Olenga Disashi, the first person to ever correct and transform my creativity into appropriate literature!
Marina Smid, the first writer to question and push my creative approach!

in addition to
Vincent Pinceloup, Eroll-James Kpenou, Olrick-Anselme Olenga Disashi, Damien-Jefferson Ebreuil, Amir Alexander, Steven-Joyce Ames, Derw Ab Zulm, Louie Snacks, Michael Steffensky, Amber Powell, Andrea Henao, Sophie Buchwald, Ilzite Nina, Julia Lipniewicz, Cecilia Erismann and Irene Cassina.

Alexiel