Time: Modern Day
Location: HereAfter

"Where are you taking me?" Peter asked reticently.

"That is largely up to you Peter. What do you need to know to learn your lesson?" Teacher asked.

"How should I know? You're in charge here aren't you?" Peter said sarcastically.

"Am I? You have much to learn Peter. . . better get started. To begin you must access the All."

"Remember what I said . . . think or better, dream of a place and you are there."

"I never did get to see a Bob Dylan concert . . ."

Suddenly he and teacher were there - front row. Peter could almost touch Dylan's feet. No one seemed to notice
them. The crowd was taken up by 'Knocking On Heaven's Door'.

Peter was in heaven. He had idolized Dylan. He had tried his hand at song writing. Even written a song for Amelia he called Amelia's Hand.

He had been obsessed with holding Amelia's hand. It had been as good as sex to him. He had never shown or sung it to her because he was afraid she might have thought it a bit creepy. Anyway, he decided to concentrate on his guitar skills rather than songwriting skills.  That's why he had enrolled in a Music School in Melbourne to prove to his family he was serious about music.

He started air-guitaring along with Dylan to one of his favourite Dylan songs. He truly was in heaven he thought now.

Teacher smiled, "You've done well Peter. You understand your connection to music now. Let us see if you have the same connection to music that is hitherto somewhat alien to you . . . Haha."

"Do we have to go?" Peter wailed.

"Yes Peter, for now we do but you can come back anytime it's always here."

Teacher reached out and pointed into the night sky, "See there is where we'll be."

Suddenly Peter was gripped by terror. His cord glowed and pulsed orange . . . he later came to associate this colour with the fight or flight instinct born of all predator species.

He remembered something he had read in the outer Secrets Vault about the existence of aliens that had visited Earth and how the Vatican wanted it kept a secret for the time being.

But it was obvious to anyone that the mainstream narrative was faltering under increasing visual evidence.

Peter's cord calmed down when he realized Teacher was there with him and that they were at another concert. Only this was definitely not Bob Dylan. The two singers on the elaborate stage were howling melodically in some alien tongue. The male was producing musical tones on some type of instrument that appeared to have no amplification device but was incredibly loud.

"What type of instrument is that?" Peter asked incredulously.

"It's called a haloshar. It's a bit like a cross between a guitar and a harp," Teacher explained.

"How come there are no amplifiers or speakers here?"

"We are on Sita, a planet in the Pegasus galaxy. Sitons can control the sound of their instruments with their thoughts.

"A bit like telepathy only stronger."

Peter was also fascinated with the look of the entertainment duo. The instrument player he assumed to be a male as he had a triangle opening flap in his tunic-like garb. He also had a shiny scaly-like cap on his oval shaped head that resembled a yellow swimming cap.

His partner appeared to be female as she had more of a triangular tent like dress of crimson that appeared to afford access to sexual and waste emission organs without the need of obvious flaps or openings. Peter suddenly noticed he had been swaying to the 'music' almost involuntarily.

Teacher laughed, "It appears you are enjoying the concert Peter."

Peter looked down to see his cord pulsing in time with the music in a beautiful kaleidoscope of pastel colours.

The crowd was swaying to and fro but forward and back more than side to side.

Peter ventured an observation, "it sounds a bit like 'You Can't Always Get What You Want' by the Stones."

"True Peter True - in Sitonese it actually translates as "Yearn Not."

"It's beautiful . . . strange that something so beautiful could come out of something so ugly."

Peter's cord turned a judgemental red as he squirmed a bit.

"And you think that if the Sitonese crowd here could see you they would think you beautiful? I think not."

Peter blushed and apologised to the singers despite the fact they had no way of hearing or understanding his apology.

"They don't know I'm sorry do they?"

"No, But I do, so the lessons continue. Shall we go?"

And with that they were gone.

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