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DISCLAIMER:- My original art, including my written work is my intellectual property, with all rights reserved by me.

All copy published on this website and all associated Teone Reinthal social media accounts, as well as my story, The Temple of Infinity is written by me, with no AI involvement, and recounts ideas and lived experiences drawn from my time on Planet Earth.  ~ TR

The activations started in a dream.

Not the wishful-thinking, fantasy sort of dream, this was a strangely disturbing pressure that dragged her up from the deep into an unsettled wakefulness. Something was happening, or, arriving in the room. She opened her eyes. Just above her head was an orb; a luminous, iridescent machine with many inner layers spinning in all directions, each transparent layer nested. in decreasing size, rotating around the centre.

She watched in awe (and more than a little fear) at the beautiful display of motion happening within the orb. Each opalescent layer flashed an array of colours as it spun, the speed of which caused the orb to appear clear, then white and gold, as it hovered, suspended  above her head in mid air. It resembled a kind of huge atom, with electrons hurtling around its nucleus, seemingly creating its mid-air suspension and controlled motion.

Later, she thought that it had reminded her of an alien Matryoshka doll, a thing of pure fantasy and unfathomable technology. As she became more fully conscious, she was startled.

What the hell is that? and she started to sit up. 

Dawn was breaking. She’d been sleeping in the sun-room, in the spare bed with her fretful, teething baby, and her husband was nearby, in their bedroom. She wanted to call out to him to come and see this bizarre thing, but she was certain that it would vanish if she did. Even the slight movement she’d made to try and sit up had caused it to begin to contract, and to move up the wall behind her pillow. She stayed silent and motionless to see it shrinking and ascending. The layers within the orb continued spinning, creating a radiant sphere of beautiful luminosities and colours. 

It was totally quiet in the house, her baby’s breathing deeply restful as first light cast its cold presence through the wall of glass doors, stretching  across the tiled slate floor and over the raw, dark brick walls. Frost covered the grounds in all directions. It was deep Winter, and the sprawling barn-shaped house was strangely discordant within the churchyard of a crumbling village chapel built in 1857, abandoned on the outskirts of a sleepy country town. 

The contracting orb ascended the wall behind her bed, and then totally disappeared.

She lay there staring at the place it had been, perplexed and strangely charged by the energy of the phenomena. It touched something very deep within her core, and was at once, both terrifying and exhilarating.


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