Dovilio could not believe it, although we had known each other for years. Many times in the past he had been present during my experiments: so, why should it be strange? Extraordinary, for sure. But not impossible: I had offered him a journey to Atlantis. Of course, I was not completely disinterested: I could have taken many other people, but my choice fell on him for a good reason: he is a painter.
In a journey of this kind, beyond time, the magician cannot take anything which is not alive; no cameras, no recorders or similar objects.
Only himself; and he who accompanies him. Ancient peoples represented this magic technique as a journey to the Underworld. Think of Aeneas, Dante and Virgil... and others who still had the chance of contacting other realities and ultimately the fortune of directly living them.
Well, in this century this fortune befell us: Dovilio and Oberto. A painter and a magician. To be true, this definition of myself is neither precise nor exact; though had I used the terms ‘parapsychologist’ or ‘medium’I would also have been inaccurate. Let me explain: magic, meant as science and research, is what I do. The realities surrounding us, in our bodies, are infinite. Our normal human perceptions of what is all around us is infinitesimal.
In magic, time contracts. And in the ancient (to us) Atlantis, a few reputable magicians of great value know how many strange ideas, at times even crazy, people will have about their civilisation; from Plato’s hints, up through the centuries, to us, and beyond.
I’m going to tell you how this adventure began. In my laboratory, one night, during an evocation experiment, a man appeared, whose name I do not want to reveal in order to protect his evocation. He seemed to be thirty-five or forty years old. It was certainly not my first experiment of this kind; in my experience, even though this may seem unbelievable, things of this kind are fairly common.
The man said that he had been looking for that contact for quite a long ‘time’. He came from the land of Atlantis, from the time before what would be - for him - its probable disappearance, in one of the many possible futures. He gave me the contact formulas, - quite an extraordinary event - (a little bit as if they were the combination of a safe, containing an ancient treasure, unassailable otherwise), and all that was left for me to do were the calculations to determine the right place and the right moment to open a physical door in time-space. Just imagination? Wait before judging. These lines, these pages are the simple account of our experience.
Simply we will tell you and show you what we have seen and heard. Even now, as I write, at times I find myself shaking my head, ours had been such an extraordinary experience. And Dovilio will show you, with his painting ability, a few images that especially struck him.
We saw the pictures referring to ancient Atlantis in a special three-dimensional projection theatre (as if they were strips from old news-reels, re-edited in subsequent epochs by the people of Atlantis). All the other paintings refer to things we observed directly.
According to my calculations, the exact moment to start our journey would be on the Friday, twelve minutes after sunset, in a place where we could contact one of the great energy lines of the planet, those we define as ’synchronic.’
Well, one of these ‘lines’ surfaces in a particular point of the mountain at the side of the ‘Devil’s bridge’ located in the small town of Lanzo, north of Turin. In that exact moment, applying the formulas and the rites that had been revealed to me, the wall of a certain rock - tilting like the side of a pyramid - would become lukewarm, hot, then soft, fluid, and finally smoky and inconsistent. All of this duly happened.
We took off our clothes and entered the rock. Dovilio trembled, and not only because of the cold, but he trusted me enough to come with me. We had talked of this for days and days, and his enthusiasm and curiosity had grown so much, that he would phone me every day just to know how my calculations and preparations were going.
This is the account of that marvellous journey. Rather than writing a detailed report, I prefer to tell you of those things which have mostly stayed in our memory. We will therefore give you ‘glimpses’, with a commentary. Dovilio and I have often met since then, to define and remind ourselves of all the details, so that they can be brought vividly back to mind. I can affirm that the pictures reproduced here are exactly what we both remember. Ours was a slightly hasty work, for fear of losing the clarity of detail if we waited too long. Perhaps, in the months and the years to come, we will be able to remember other important things which are now buried beneath a pile of memories.
The journey lasted only three days, during which we hardly ever slept, and rested very little; yet more than that was not possible, as we would have run the risk of not being able to return.
The purpose of the journey was to be able to correct all those things that, till now, have been said about the land of Atlantis, its cities, its customs and history, its medicine, the social system, the economy...
We appeared on a stony lowland, bare, windy; no mountains on the horizon. The air was crisp and cool.
Stunned, I walked a few steps and I saw, on the ground, a curved line, in red: it was the external limit of the magic circle of correspondence through which we had been projected, beyond time-space. I invited my travel companion to follow me, and we walked across the magic sign.
A few footsteps further, beyond a very deep canyon, we are on the top of highland, or better on the truncated top of a very high mountain. We begin to feel cold. A buzzing sound starts, just perceptible enough to attract our attention. It seems to be arriving from every direction. Coming up from the bottom on our right a transparent box appears, a sort of elevator along the vertical side of the highland. Our hosts have arrived, and they hurry to bring us white mantles.
As we descend slowly along the wall of the mountain, the spectacle presented to our eyes is fantastic. In front of us, very distantly, we can distinguish three pointed mountains: it is the central chain of Atlantis from which, through the centuries, the symbol of this civilisation was derived: the trident.
We are welcomed with an intense music, similar to the sound of Sitar Etabl. With a very delicate smile, showing more humour than teeth, a priest approaches us, or at least this is what we guess he is at our first impression. He speaks Italian and this shocks us even more (if such a thing was possible!).
http://www.cyberdh.com/atlan/html/a_journey_to_atlantis.htm