aking," the cow had
disappeared. This experience led me to believe that like Mr.
Castaneda's mentor, I could consciously direct my actions within the
context of a dream.

Back in New York, I became editor-in-chief of the high school
newspaper. I soon learned that I had a knack for inspiring and for
managing a team. I was well regarded by my teachers and by my peers,
and I had many friends. I could have continued my studies at a
prestigious university, but I longed for a mystical quest. I dreamt
that I walked silently across a vast desert plain. I longed to
experience that which lay beyond the surface world of reason. I dreamt
that I flew over desert chaparral into an infinite orange horizon. I
longed for a wisdom that was secret, magical, ancient. I decided to
hitchhike, alone, to the Sonoran Desert in Mexico to find a mystical
teacher, a *brujo*, who was just like Don Juan. I planned to leave on
the day after high school graduation.

Meanwhile, I continued to read the Castaneda books and to experiment
with consciousness. One time I attempted to raise my right arm without
consciously lifting it. I wanted it to levitate on its own. I soon
felt a tingling in the arm, but it did not rise. Finally, I lifted it
on purpose. Then, as part of the experiment, I suggested to myself
that the arm remain lifted. As long as I repeated the suggestion, the
arm remained where it was. Afterwards, I could not recall how long the
state of mind had lasted.

My brother shared with me an interest in rising above the limitations
of home, school, religion, society, and reality. By the time I turned
him on to the Castaneda books, he had already studied Einstein's
special theory of relativity and The Tao Of Physics. In the spring of
1978, when he was studying physics at the State University of New York
at Stony Brook, he told me that he had met an English professor who was
an expert on the Castaneda books. He knew that my quest for a teacher
would begin in roughly two months, when I would graduate from high
school. He wanted to help me. He suggested that I attend the
Castaneda expert's free lecture series on meditation in Manhattan.

I wondered why a Castaneda expert would live on Long Island rather than
in a remote desert in Mexico, but my brother's enthusiasm was sincere.
"Besides," I thought as we rode the train into the city, "anything I
learn now will only help me on the journey."

We arrived at a building on 33rd