Horatio found himself now standing in front of a massive wall of gray mist. To him it resembled a giant churning tidal wave, only without the roar of the water: just mist, but grayer than gray mist. It was eerie and frightening to behold. It was impossible to see through it.
"We are at the very brink of the next sphere down, aren’t we?" Horatio asked his mentor.
"Correct," his mentor assured him. "Let us proceed. Hold on to my arm at all times. You will be safe. You have absolutely nothing to fear. Trust us. You cannot fall. You cannot be injured."
"Just one more thing to note before we cross this threshold," he continued. "You are always invisible to anyone or any thing on the other side of this curtain. No spirit on the other side can visualize you in any manner. They cannot possibly tell that you and I are among them. This is for your safety, and you should be aware of that. They cannot penetrate your thoughts at anytime."
"We may see other spirits from our own realm or even higher realms while we are here. They may be on a mission of mercy or just visiting, as we will be doing. They can and will see us, and we can, of course, see them as well. Naturally, we are safe with our own brothers and sisters from these realms. We can acknowledge them and leave them go about their work. We will not be disturbing any one or anything."
"Now, let us pass on through."
* * * * *
As the pair stepped through the threshold, Horatio immediately noticed the drastic change in the landscape. Gone were all the verdant greens of the lush lawns of his sphere. The grasses appeared tinged with yellows and uneven barren spots and large ugly weeds could now be seen rearing their distorted tailings. The grasses resembled the lack of care shown the landscaping in some of the poorer areas of an inner city. Also, there were to be seen a few scrawny wild flowers – only a few – attempting to survive with what appeared to be very limited success; with very little in the way of beauty and color or shape.
The sky had lost its beautiful blue hues as well. Instead, it took on a brownish and smoggy looking haze. The entire spectrum before them was downright ugly, Horatio thought.
"Looks like Phoenix during one of its ozone alerts," Horatio joked nervously. Doctor Harrington did not respond.
They continued to walk into the realm, Horatio looking for some sign of life of some sort; maybe a house or maybe even a glimpse of a spirit resident of this plane. He saw nothing. He felt heaviness about him. He didn’t like it. It was eerily quiet. It was as if an unexpected pall had descended upon them. His mentor chose to remain silent.
It now appeared to Horatio that they were heading on a downward direction. Yes, the slope of the land had definitely appeared to be going on a down hill basis as they continued their trek. Also, he noticed that the ground beneath his sandals was much harder than the soil on his plane. It reminded him of the various trails he and his sons would take while hiking around the state.
Now more and more rocks and boulders appeared to be strewn across the landscape; not beautiful colored rocks as on his plane, but cold looking jagged and darkened stones with little if any esthetic qualities to them. He looked down at his sandaled feet. For the first time since his arrival into the spirit lands, he saw dust. His toes and the straps of his ‘Jesus Slippers’ – that’s what he had always called his sandals – were becoming caked in a dusty brown soil color from the ground covering. He was used to dust all of his life while living in the desert Southwest, so this little inconvenience didn’t bother him that much. He was just a little taken back by it upon first glance. No big deal, he thought-- so far.
The temperature now surrounding his very spirit being had changed, he noticed. Now it was not the pleasant seventy-two degree range he had become accustomed to on his realm. It was definitely cooler than that here. Also, there was now moisture in the air. Humidity was something he definitely did not like. He remembered the horrid days of humidity back in the Midwest. He actually hated that climate ever since he could remember; hot and humid in the summers and cold and damp in the spring. It was always a deep penetrating cold that could chill you down to your very bones. No sir. Give him the dry Arizona heat any old time – the hotter the better.