I was just ending my morning meditation when I heard someone call my name.

It was my spirit guide Chien inviting me to join him at my home away from home, a house I maintain in Focus 27 reality. I pointed my attention there and materialized in the living room like I’d been beamed in from the Enterprise on the TV show Star Trek. I call this process translocation.

As I arrived I heard a chorus of voices shouting, “Surprise!”

I materialized facing the window so I turned around to see who was in my living room. Four smiling faces greeted me. Chien sat in his favorite easy chair across from mine. On the couch sat three others. First I noticed Arial on the right side of the couch, sitting closest to Chien. Arial is Chien’s mentor and my master guide.

Even more surprising to me than the party was Arial’s presence. She looked human. Normally she doesn’t bother to assume any semblance of physical form, preferring to appear as a bright ball of light or a luminous figure in a vaguely human shape. Today however she looked as physical as anyone I’ve met in physical reality. The best way to describe her would be as the-runway-model-next-door. Arial is tall and slender with sharp, fine facial features and auburn-brown hair that drapes casually over her shoulders. Yet despite her striking statuesque appearance she radiates an easy going air of affability and approachability.

Beside her sat Vince, a long time friend of mine in nonphysical reality. Vince is short and heavy set with a thick neck and a set of jowls that remind me of Marlon Brando in the Godfather. But far from being the stern patron of the bunch, Vince is a loyal and indefatigable champion of my life choices. When my nonphysical friends and I discuss my foibles, missed opportunities, life plans, and hopes for the future, I know I can count on Vince as a voice of support and a cheerleader to encourage my best efforts.

On the left side of the couch sitting closest to my favorite chair was Susan. Susan is small and slight in appearance, but just the opposite in personality. She has a keen mind and a bright ringing laugh that sets others to laughing as well. It was Susan’s voice I heard above the others as I stood shocked in place on the floor where I’d arrived.

“Hi!” I managed after a moment or two spent taking in the scene. “What’s the occasion? My birthday isn’t until April.”

That set off a round of boisterous laughter because in the realm of no-time there are no birthdays or anniversaries. Every moment is the now and that is all that exists. As this truth slowly dawned on me I chuckled too.

“We don’t need an occasion to celebrate,” said Chien, as he rose up and reached out to pat me on the shoulder.

“You’ve been working too hard. Life’s supposed to be fun,” said Vince.

“We wanted to help you relax,” added Arial. “Even draining your tension this morning, you were so diligent. Let your hair down a bit and join us for little celebration.”

And so I did. I thanked them and told them to make themselves comfortable. We all sat down and then I realized that as the owner of the house and the guest of honor I probably should do something for my guests. So first I manifested some smooth jazz background music. I deliberately picked a CD by Acoustic Alchemy called the New Edge that I listen to frequently so I wouldn’t have to give much mental attention to creating or maintaining the music.

As the music filtered into the room I decided to manifest some hors d’oeuvres on the coffee table. I choose several items I’d enjoyed recently at a New Year’s Eve party. I created wild mushroom crostini, yogurt cheesecake with corn meal crust and caramelized onion topping, fresh red grapes, and a plate of salted wheat crackers.

Normally my nonphysical friends give me a bad time about my “cooking” since it rarely resembles real food. Of all the things I create with my mind in nonphysical reality I find food the most challenging. When I create an object like a drinking glass I think of its shape and perhaps its color and weight. But it is predominantly a visual creation.

When manifesting food much more goes into the production. Obviously it must look right, with accurate and appetizing colors. But it must also have the right flavors and textures and temperatures in order to create something realistic. Perhaps it is these extra details I find challenging. And perhaps it is that I’m not a particularly good cook in physical reality. So my inexperience at paying attention to nuances of flavor, texture, and temperature translates into the same challenge in nonphysical reality.

In any event, my guests humored me and ate the appetizers happily enough.

I also offered to manifest a round of drinks. Chien and Vince wanted mojitos so I created tumblers filled with ice, mint, sugar, rum, soda, and lime juice. Not being a regular drinker of alcoholic beverages it took me a bit to get them right. Susan wanted a glass of orange juice. Getting the color and temperature of her juice right was easy, but I had to concentrate to recall and create the tangy, sweet flavor of fresh squeezed oranges. Arial made my life easy and asked for a glass of room temperature water. For myself I created a bottle of my favorite beer. The glass bottle felt cold and damp in my hand, and the smooth dark liquid tasted hoppy, slightly bitter, and refreshingly cool.

Creating these drinks and hors d’oeuvres was more than a social nicety. It was also something of a test or a demonstration of my abilities. For several years now I’ve been deliberately creating and serving food to my nonphysical friends in an effort to improve my manifestation skills. The speed and accuracy of my creations has improved over time, but I still have a way to go before I can consistently and confidently conceive of all the specific details in a single comprehensive holographic thought and then make it appear before me.

After we visited for a while, Chien suggested we go to the beach, which is visible out the windows from my home. [Hey, if you’re going to create your dream house and real estate prices are no issue you might as well get what you want.]

Rather than walking we translocated to the beach. You probably do this too when you instantly change scenes within a dream. When I arrived I wore a comfortable old pair of board shorts and nothing else. The hot sun felt great on my back and the sand felt warm beneath my bare feet.

Much to my surprise Arial appeared wearing a bikini. Vince wore an old fashioned one piece top and bottom striped bathing suit that looked like it came from the early 1900s. Chien, who appears to me as an old Chinese man, looked short and thin as a rail with his pale, bony knees protruding beneath the cuffs of his baggy red and white flower-print aloha shorts.

My heart soared when I realize that Chien had brought surfboards. On the sand beside him sat an unwieldy 11-foot long board with a dagger-like single fin for him and a somewhat shorter nine-foot long board with a tri-fin arrangement for me. Surfing is one of my favorite activities in both physical and nonphysical reality. Chien likes it too, which makes it one of our favorite activities to do together, although we rarely take the time to enjoy it. [And living in Colorado I get even less chance to surf in physical reality.]

Beyond the beach the ocean was lined to the horizon with steady sets of waves. They marched in one after another like clockwork at about 15 second intervals. Each one wrapped around the rocky point to the north and starting a steady right hand break of curling blue water and peeling foam that rolled on uninterrupted for more than a quarter mile before crashing on a sandbar not far from where we stood.

Chein glanced at me and then at the ocean. Then he picked up his board without a word and launched himself into the foam receding with an undertow that would carry him beyond the impact zone. “You coming?” he yelled over his shoulder as he started to paddle out.

I looked at my friends, torn between the great waves and their company.

“Go ahead,” said Arial. “The idea was for you to have a good time.”

“Surf’s up,” said Vince. “Get out of here.”

That was all the encouragement I needed. I picked my board up off the sand and followed Chien into the sea. The board felt heavy beneath my right arm and as the water splashed my legs it felt cool, but not cold, like it does in Southern California in early September. When I was thigh deep in the retreating foam I threw my board in front of me and dove on top of it. The fresh wax on the board kept me from sliding off. Yes I actually felt the wax.

My weight added to the board’s momentum and pushed it forward. Soon I was paddling out to catch up to Chien. The experience felt as real as physical reality. I could even taste the salt water on my lips.

The waves were big and powerful, but they moved with a steady grace. They measured about a head and a half high. That is they were about nine feet from crest to trough, or about one and half times my body length.

The wind blew just slightly offshore, holding the waves for a moment longer and blowing a fine mist off the backside of the waves. From my vantage point as I paddled out I could see small effervescent rainbows in the mist trailing behind the waves.

By the time I caught up to Chien he was kneeling on his board and paddling slowly with his hands. He was lingering outside the take off zone and looking for the optimum spot to line up. I pulled up beside him and straddled my board with my legs in the water.

“Heck of a day,” I said. “What amazing waves.”

“Made them myself,” said Chien, putting on an air of false pomposity.

Actually, I knew he had made the waves. In a realm of thought like Focus 27 you can create anything you desire. But it took great skill for him to create them so effectively.

“Best place to take off is right there,” said Chien pointing to a spot about 20 yards away where the waves pitched steeply and began to break. “Set up right there and you won’t even have to paddle for them. They’ll pick you up and take you right to the beach. Can’t ask for more than that.”

“After you,” I said, following surfer etiquette since he’d arrived in the line up first.

“No, you’re up,” he said as he shoved the tail of my surfboard forward.

So I paddled just beyond the breakers and waited for the next wave to pass. That gave me a few seconds to get into position. I wheeled about to my right and paddled hard for the peak that Chien had indicated. Within seconds the back of my board rose up as the next wave came underneath me. I gave three or four more hard strokes and knew I was going fast enough to pop up.

I gripped the rails of my surfboard and pressed down as I drew my feet up beneath me, twisting sideways as I did so to ensure my feet landed perpendicular to the board. Then I stood up and tipped my weight onto the balls of my feet. This set the rail of the board and I carved a sweeping turn that brought me back up the face of the wave and into the sweet spot just at the point that it was throwing out the leading edge of the lip.

From there I played back and forth, up and down the curling face of the wave. Then I slowed down a bit and drew back into the curling tube until I was completely inside the swirling blue green tunnel of water. It felt exhilarating to be surrounded by the swirling walls and I trailed my hand behind me on the wave. Then I shifted my weight and drove the board forward and back into the daylight. I’d just been tubed! Something I’d never done effectively in real life.

I whooped for joy and pumped my fists in the air as I played on the wave all the way back to the beach.

When I emerged from the water I felt stoked! As stoked as I ever feel from a surfing session in physical reality.

Except that I then said goodbye to my nonphysical friends and ended my meditation. And then I rose from my meditation chair, smiling at the memory of a great wave and an unexpected party.