Within an individual’s psychic shadow is contained every unconscious aspect of the mind which is not illuminated by the torch of consciousness. The unreasoning shadow is the home of animal instinct, and it is a reservoir of darkness and evil too, but the source of creativity at the same time. If one denies one’s basic needs, and restrains one’s deepest desires, they will be projected at last on the world. In its turn this will create a veil of illusion between the individual and his environment so that he cannot function properly. Furthermore, it is the wild energy of the fearful shadow that represents a strong and upright spirit, rather than the repressed emotions of the impotent scholar. The first works towards growth and freedom in the end, despite the unruliness, whilst the second leads to recrimination and dissolution at the end of a lifetime of frustration. So we can admit that the influence of the shadow is not totally harmful, but that it is necessary to treat it very carefully and with exceptional respect.

 

Come on, then, come into my parlour, says the spider to the fly [*]. It’s not me who’s weaving a web of fine texture, full of guile and deceit, is it? I would never tell you lies, would I? I am Helen Grossmann MSc – a name that should remind you of Seléynē, the Moon; of Helénē of Théybē, daughter of Retribution, whose name comes from a word meaning ‘torch’; and of Vánas, Sintic goddess of love and beauty. Ah, don’t we conceal ourselves behind words, and names, and other titles, as if they were magical cloaks? I am an extremely successful single mother, who will come through it, come what may, no matter what happens to her. And I’ll be a Leading Mentalist who’s renowned throughout the old, crazy World, in due course, if the plan succeeds. I’ve already gained a higher degree in Technical Studies from Aberdydd Poly-varsity, as you know. But first, I’ll need to listen to that old Doctor Procter (“Mister Walking-on-Eggshells”) droning on about the “ineluctable antimodalities of the invisible” in order to be able to write my final essay, and become a Member of the Guild, as if were. And then, having proved myself at last, I’ll begin to behave as I wish, rather than playing all these ridiculous games.

 

“How can we describe the relationship between human beings and what exists beyond them? That’s a question indeed! Well, we live in two worlds, as it were. As regards the mind, let me concentrate on how we conceive, think, believe, imagine. One must consider, to start off with, all the symbols that define and order everything, especially the symbols of language. They create an endless net which captures us, even before we’re born. Here’s an example for you. Imagine Sorakados discovering the secrets of his inheritance as reincarnation of some old astrologer, and that his name means ‘Sorcerer’ in the original language of some Imaginary Kingdom he’ll need to visit to meet his fate. Or then again, what about Swtakh revealing to some lost lad in the blue room deep below the River of Tears that Stharafan was his real, original name. And of course, that’s a name that means ‘Skilled Leader,’ although the man had no clue before that.”

 

It’s me who’s been reciting all these stories, well, recording them and reading them out to myself as I transcribe them, anyway. For the purpose of research. Well, that’s what they think, at least, the inmates in this belam. I’m collecting the psychic energy, that’s the truth. 'What thing is a man?', they keep on asking all the time – or more importantly – 'What kind of man am I?' What kind of man, indeed! Such a heap of old suppurant slumgullion! They tell tales full of sound and fury without a doubt – our laughable lost souls – but their stories mean nothing. Ooh, they’re mad for the old Shake-a-Shaft in this lamentable place, but it’s me who’s the only real creative spirit here at the moment, without a shadow of a doubt. And don't I just have some tasty morsels for you – the handmaid’s tale, indeed – to borrow an apt phrase! 

 

“And so, unbeknownst to us, and out of our control, structures and processes in the mind are formed from chains of interconnected symbols. For example, there’s the names of our parents, their occupations, their faiths, their positions in society, their languages, their dreams and their nightmares, and the medical conditions they suffer from, to name but a few. But what happens if you don’t have parents to begin the avalanche of symbols? I don’t mean that the parents have died, but rather I’m considering those who’ve created themselves, as it were. Well, considering mythology, they become deities, like the Seven Terrible Sorcerers, named Lushfé, Tefnuth, Hebé, Nuthkí, Wezir, Isheth, and Nebesh. And you know what happened to them.” 

 

And talking of Mrs Grossmann who believes she’s Lady Meykbeds, it’s me who’s been running the place ever since I walked in through the front door of this filthy mansion where they’ve almost gone bust. And that’s despite what she claims. She was always encouraging David to get up to mischief, too, and lead Stevie astray on top of that. And why she insists I talk funny, I’ll never know! It’s me who’s travelled all over the World after all to discover new methods from overseas to help those locked up in here. I’ve invented lots of them too, based on experimental poetry and acting. Especially informative were the trenches in the Heart of the Continent where I learnt the secrets of the mini-mind-maim-bots which are second to none on the whole Eyrth. Of course, I’ve shamelessly stolen plans and concepts from the Oppressive Overseers, as well.

 

“And in legends, once again, some were satisfied with only one parent. There’s Zuvnirathé, for instance, The Black Goat of the Woods with Thousands of Offspring, created by Hebé from her own flesh as a demon of fire who rules over the laws of nature. But, in general, everything is immeasurably worse if a human being grows up and matures without being taught at all about the ever-changing sets of symbols which belong to his society by some Tom, Dick or Harriet. However, this network, which develops and ramifies around us all the time, is not the be-all and end-all of human life. When the baby comes across his own reflection in a mirror for the first time, the world-view that was crystallizing from the linguistic solution shatters into fragments.”

 

So, what about my poor sweet-heart, David, you’ll be asking next? Well, lover, that’s what he used to say. But of course, we weren’t having a relationship of any kind, apart from the correct therapeutic sort that needs to be established between clinician and client. Anything else would have been very inappropriate, what with him being rather incompetent. In a way, I used to like him, and indulge his whims, that’s all. He was quite interesting and funny on occasions, and in small doses, like an excitable and noisy red monkey, perhaps. He was attractive but dumb, and boring after half an hour. But everything changed to a large extent when he lost his mind on ‘super-marrow’ – a spectacularly psychotropic drug if ever there was one – and I was upset and very disappointed to start with. He was producing it somewhere with Uncle Jack’s help, it now appears, to sell at the illegal musical events. He started to run about the countryside thinking he was communicating with his Father’s troubled spirit or other strange entities. He’d convinced himself he was the Old Gods’ Anointed One, and thus that he was invincible, and that he needed to save the World. Despite my initial feelings, though, I pulled myself together quickly, and resumed my essential duties just as professionally as before. I should get a medal, in my opinion. 

 

“The little child begins to vie with the exteriorized image of himself. And that’s just the start of the process. And so, there is set in motion a continuing competition from then on, between two sides, namely that which is part of himself, compared with everything else, outside and beyond, where before there was only feeling and responding to the body’s needs. This builds a totally new way of looking at the world on the child’s part, as a place full of images that are unknown, uncontrollable, and terrifying. But at the same time, they’re painfully tempting, and exciting. In its time, this leads to a condition where he feels he’s been split into many fragments that will never be reconnected. But having said that, by interacting with the image, and then with other people who exist independently of himself, the kid will learn and practise a much more extensive variety of options for how to behave. After all, who would really want to exist in a totally empty world, some blue room, without a single other person in it?”

 

Despite everything I had discovered about his background, that was the end for me. And it made no difference to me, either, as he was the spitting image of his selfish father by then, by all accounts, despite all the fair words. Well, according to the Old Soldier’s report, anyway. Of course, everything dates back to the time of the Great Tribulation. The madman, John, that is Baxter the elder, was a wide-boy to start with, but he became an out-and-out bully and complete villain after his experiences. He never fought, needless to say, and in truth he took advantage of the situation as a shameless, cowardly smuggler who would steal from one side to sell to the other faction. And of course, he would use the nom-de-guerre ‘Ivan’ as if he were some kind of crusader from the Haunted Homeland ages ago. He would bring the lad with him on his expeditions to transport illegal substances, and he’d often force him to see and take part in awful activities. It’s no surprise at all that he grew up to be a confused and angry young man. 

 

“Once we’ve been caught as children by the image in the mirror, and fallen, as it were, into full existence in the World, we will never be able to return to our original innocence, nor escape from the grip of the images that are crawling everywhere. The images are cunning. They become real, alive. I don’t mean just pictures. They materialize in three-dimensional reality in the form of people, for example. And so, they slink into our lives to enswathe us, developing to be more important than what they’re displacing. They become part of us, and sweep us away, as we become parts of them, losing view of what and who was there in the first place.” 

 

But once, by happenstance, and through treachery, rather than bravery, John, in the guise of Ivan the Strong Little Devil, saved the life of Jack Procter, famed founder of this Clinic, who was then, somehow, a sub-commander in the rebel forces. [Indeed. Had he defected or was he playing both sides to his own inscrutable ends? — P.M.] He’d been captured by the coalition (that is, the invading side) and was being kept in a hessian sack to await his fate, bound tightly and unconscious after having a blow to the head (that’s how the story runs every time anyway). Baxter was supplying monkey-juice – an illegal spirit, full of cleaning fluids, nail-varnish remover, anti-freeze, methanol and lead – to the abominable oppressors. Their temporary headquarters was in a sky-blue cottage (with daubings on its walls of ancient and sacred symbols, according to the experts), near an old petrol station amongst the pines. There, they kept the stores including all the bottles of moonshine liquor.

 

“Then again, the symbols and the images, the objects of our normal perception, are just the tip of the iceberg. What lies behind, and beyond, and below these? There’s some medium, some stuff, some mode of being in which is set everything we know about. The Nw Yrth is my name for it, and I have been there once, when I was a youth full of strength, and although it is a remarkably beautiful place, and exceptionally frightening, I came back unscathed, more or less. I’ve not been able to follow the trail to go there again, despite how hard I’ve tried. But I have come to the conclusion that nothing else is real compared with that region which is indefinable and agonizing to experience. There my words were futile, but in the exceptional soil to be had there, all energy, and strength, and power in our Eyrth, sprouts up.” 

 

But there was a terrible accident when the spiv dropped his coconut and banana ciggy causing the place to explode. He dragged the sack away thinking it was full of money and drugs, the old wrinkly miser, and escaped with it in his flaming chariot (no, not a mystic conveyance from the Old Books, but a white van that was on fire because of the explosion). From then on, then, John pretended he was a war hero because he’d managed to save Jack’s life. But, like in some old tale of the Wýkingren – full of clawed dwarfs, shape-shifting ur-lizardians, talking birds, extorting divinities who break their oaths, eight-legged horses, flaming mountains, and flying ships – despite the wastrel’s constant good luck, his fundamental flaw would cause his long-expected downfall in the end. And it all goes to show one can’t escape life’s overpowering narrative. Well, not without getting support from an innovative mentalist like me, of course, who’ll help you to cut through the chains of the past. 

 

“When we think or describe things as usual, our seeing, our hypothesizing, and our planning are restricted by our unsuitable symbols and our pitiful images. On the Nw Yrth, there is neither truth nor falsehood, excepting that which one creates for oneself. And so, telling the way there is impossible, as every map shatters into smithereens as soon as it’s made. But, in contrast, this is where you can potentially find every answer and solve every problem – with the appropriate care and effort. Despite that, it’s also a place full of deceit and uncertainty, this locus of unmediated wonder which is totally disconcerting.”

 

As they stayed in the temporary hospital together, where John’s wife worked, to receive treatment from their wounds, Procter shared his odd ideas about the occult with the other man. His view was that everything on the Eyrth was out of joint because of the influence of unseen but extremely powerful agents from the Planet, or the Universe, or the Dimension, called the Nw Yrth. They were commanded by the Red Herald, Swtakh, Lord of the Wilderness, who would go about our World in the form of a pitch-black shadow, spreading lies, sowing strife, extolling violence, and encouraging everyone to fight in the name of purity, faith, and strength. 

 

“Those who play a powerful role in society (often, the Chief Representatives of the People, the Secret Agents of the Arch-guardian of Public Behaviour, the Watchful Warders of the Walls of Morality, the Masters of the Black Arts in the Venerable Institutions of Higher Education, and the Oppressive Overseers of the Church Militant, for example), join completely with the kingdom of the symbols, internalizing their own particular signs to win status and power in life. By doing this, they become symbolic sorcerers or linguistic technologists, who rule communication, fashion sense, and define meaning. The enormous pleasure connected with using their magic rises up in the pause of expectant postponement between stimulating the mind, and the awaited release which comes from realizing the meaning and ruling and changing the World.” 

 

Swtakh promised enormous prizes to those who would obey, and terrible penalties for those who would resist. It sounds unlikely, I agree. But perhaps this figure represented some odd, imagined combination of spiritual and worldly leaders like the Malicious Marshal from the Absolute Authority of the Fruitful Valley, and the Everlasting Father who desired to seize power in the Church Militant at the time. And as a result, the inhabitants of this whole World would fight over skin-colour, faith, language, ethnicity, and other differences of every kind. So, neighbours would set fine to each other’s houses, daughters spit on their mothers, friends kill old comrades, and fathers attack their sons. 

 

“It takes an enormous effort to work with the symbols effectively, creating new systems of them, controlling them, and broadcasting them. Religion used to do that best, but it has not succeeded in governing the World on its own. Now, the unholy alliance between the International Committee on Faith and Morals, the Military Mercantile Union, and the Independent Broadcasting Agencies is taking its place to a large extent. I haven’t decided about the blasted international electronic net, as it lets ordinary people create and share their own ideas too freely.”

 

Mentalists working for the marauding Pink Overlords were trying to frustrate the efforts of the freedom-fighters by sending nightmares and visions; packs of rabid, white, ginger-eared dogs together with herds of fierce, skeleton-bodied, flaming-eyed, vampire-horses. It was not difficult for Procter to convince Baxter without a doubt, as the latter was ready to believe almost anything after surviving the accident. The two new comrades-in-arms became blood-brothers, swearing an oath by the Ineffable Essence to rid the Eyrth of the Oppressive Overseers who upheld the dominance of the EGO and the Pink Empire. And of course, all this would begin have an enormous influence on poor David’s life soon enough, when he would have to take part in detestable rituals, and so on. On one occasion when he was very young, he felt he’d been sent on a mission to some weird Planet where he became a different person, and he started behaving very eccentrically from then on, according to the scant records. 

 

“As a rule, the power of the symbols goes down from sorcerer to apprentice, from technologist to trainee, when the apprentice takes the place of his master in the Guild. But not without a battle. To start with, the young apprentice identifies with the sorcerer. Then, the trainee desires to experience and possess the exceptional ability he lacks. As a result, the apprentice will have to displace the older sorcerer, as it were, to steal the secret techniques and establish himself in his own right.” 

 

They believed that they would have to use esoteric practices which called for strict discipline to accomplish whatever would be needed to be done. Thereafter, however, whilst Procter kept his promise, Baxter took the opportunity provided by the cloak-and-dagger antics to expand his parochial drugs-business into the world-wide arena. He became much too fond of eating the multi-coloured fungus he was transporting and selling – in order to communicate with cosmic forces, apparently – and that was one really good reason he would report that he was hearing voices.

 

“Every sorcerer fears Swtakh, the Lord of Misrule, who could confound the symbols and withdraw his strength. As a result of this, technologists tend to be hyper-aware and full of dread of the Primal Father all the time. They need to use their abilities constantly behind the scenes, so that they don’t evaporate. We could say this without a doubt, therefore: once a sorcerer seizes the symbolic power, he’ll need to act, and speak, and love, and fight, and cast spells, not through choice, but in case the strength devours him before vanishing, leaving him as nothing but a withered husk.”

 

Well, that was Baxter the Father, and I’ll be talking about Baxter the Son now. Well, like father like son, they say. In truth, both of them were prisoners of the social order they came from. Oh, David tried to escape from the slum, and his sadistic old man, and the casual violence, and the monkey-spice. But one can’t hold back fate, nor avoid the mill-stones of upbringing and circumstance. In the fullness of time, then, David’s Father was stabbed in a bungled drug-deal. 

 

“On the other hand, the joy experienced by the few who succeed in channelling the power of the Nw Yrth without keeping it nor being warped by it, is totally different, and very difficult to handle. In a manner of speaking, they’re like craftsmen who work with the raw material of the World. Imagine a potter moulding the flexible and ever-changing clay, or the sculptor chipping away at the rock to release a hidden form. We could say that this power is real, although it’s beyond description, rather than the kind which circulates ceaselessly in the unreal world of the technologists built of tricky symbols and transient images. The power of the craftsman cannot be spoken, cannot be controlled by symbolic laws, and is only understood through experience.” 

 

It was a great pity that David was home when his Father staggered back to the house, mortally wounded but still clinging onto life. The Father was cursing the Son worse than usual, commanding him to take him away in the van. David wanted to kill the unrepentant bully who was at death’s door anyway. But, despite his hatred, he couldn’t overcome the instinctual terror and overwhelming sense of obedience engendered by the man who was more spiteful and furious than usual due to the injuries, and so the lad did help him. What else would a school-aged boy be expected to do? There was one last twist of fate that was as poetically well-deserved as it was comically sad and cruel (under the circumstances). The Father died in an explosion – strange to say – whilst disparaging his Son with the words that he would never be a man (David discovered this during our intensive sessions in the Clinic).

 

“The magical craftsman wants to blanket himself in power which disappears in the instant it is experienced, even when one tries to describe it, which produces joy like the swoon of love-making, like the taste of strong red wine, like the striking beauty of a sunset. And in this, every handful of clay is unique. The prototypical piece of it doesn’t exist. But by being able to journey freely to the Nw Yrth, it would be possible for everyone to be satisfied entirely with such unique strength, which is creative and liberating.”

 

With his last breath, it appears – before the Father got blown to bits and the Son leapt to safety, but not without being badly burned – John said that David had almost caused his Mother to die when he was born, and that they had both hated him ever since then. Well, the lad had already lost his Mother, and in the wake of this heinous disclosure (recalled here, under my expert therapeutic guidance) – since David could not get rid of the image of his Father, as it were – then the Son inherited the burden, the curse, the lack of joy, and the constant uncertainty that had always plagued the older man. The torture did not come to an end then, either, as far as I know, for David had been being abused for some time by an Uncle who was supposed to be helping to care for the children. David blamed himself for failing to be brave enough to escape from the violent situation at the time, causing the infernal internal images to grow wild and strong, abetted by the pain of the psychosomatic scarification.

 

“The powers of the sorcerers, that is the technologists, and those of the craftsman are not symmetric to each other, nor are they complementary either. They are fundamentally different. The technologists are trapped, whilst the craftsman is free. The wretched sorcerers labour to create and control a complete, finite world using words, images, and concepts. However, as a result of the tenderness and loving persistence of the craftsman, every lump of clay reveals different and unknown forms which come to light as the object of his craft evolves.” 

 

Hmm, well, now, it’s time to turn back to considering my ‘Uncle’ Jack, who was old enough to be my grandfather, truth be told. The Old Solider wasn’t actually related to me by blood, of course, thank goodness (whatever aspersions certain splenetic serpents may wish to cast in my unblemished direction)! Anyway, in spite of his age and his peculiar, pseudo-religious convictions concerning tantric mantras and compelling Kundalini to comply with his will, the old goat was so ludicrously lascivious, to be perfectly honest. Ooh, he would keep on insinuating that I was very fond of him in some unnatural way, it wasn’t funny at all in the end. Yuck, imagine! How horrid would that have been? It gives me goose-bumps! I wouldn’t touch him with a barge-pole, the old reprobate, and just as well too! 

 

"Blood and fire are the elements of the magical reality on the Nw Yrth. Here on the Eyrth, it’s women for the most part who naturally possess the seeds of the fundamental creative power, as they always have done, although they don’t realise the fact. Indeed, only in societies under the control of the Followers of the Seeress will they reach as a rule positions of true authority where they can wield power and influence events. Everywhere else, men eagerly desire to steal their power and possess it through violence and deceit. And, Oh, I’ve learned so much from my dear sister, although she never uses her exceptional powers. But it’s obvious that women aren’t simply pretty flowers, of course, but also beings who can appear as deadly beasts with wings and claws when needs be.”

 

But he, Uncle Jack, didn’t so much as even touch me, although he thought he’d done me wrong when I went to ask him about his theories regarding mathemagical patterns in minstrelsy {Art}. I can't fathom where that idea came from. Wishful thinking on his part, perhaps, who knows? To be honest, I wanted to have a gander at all the treasures he was keeping in the cellar of that ugly old cottage, together with the collection of boring, musty volumes. He had nothing of worth there as far as I could see, the sweaty old rascal, although the door leading downstairs was like one you’d find in some dungeon. Anyway, he had an eye for the lads on the sly, I think, to speak plainly, and a lot of good that did his poor wife, more’s the pity. I doubt they’d married in the first place, in any case. 

 

“You have to follow the patterns of life’s drama to succeed in the game. But who writes these, creating the blueprint for thinking and behaving? By influencing people’s systems of belief, those in power can force them to do anything. They understand how the group mind works and use this to govern the masses according to their will, and without them realizing. By spreading ideology, they persuade the populace to believe in particular theories, concepts, and stories, until they’ll do anything.” 

 

The innocent woman, the Old Soldier’s wife, disappeared in the end, whilst she was expecting a little baby, in the company of some dentist, or poet, or televisual presenter, or would-be politician from the Promised Land, so they say, like a shadow in the night, never to be seen by her former-husband again. (I, however, know what happened, who the man was, and where they went, but I’m not going to tell you here). Everything’s so complicated, to say the least. Jack blamed himself, somehow, when I got with child whilst staying here – in the old blue cottage, to spill all the beans. I won't hazard why, but the deranged alchemist would get exceptionally excited every time I’d go to visit the place, whether he was there or not. And they – the ones who think they’re in charge here – would let me stay there on my own very often, that’s the truth (since Uncle ended up being cared for in the Manse as his condition worsened). Ooh, what a hellish hole! it used to stink, that’s the thing. And the vile loo – ye Gods! 

 

“Thus will the Temporal Powers organize the World, and encourage people to connect with the shadow repressed within them, answering its dark calls without understanding it or respecting it. We are prompted to ignite a fire to get rid of fear, only to be consumed by it. That is the font of all the tribulation, and war, and hatred, which pertains in the world today. And indeed, this feeds the Insatiable Divinities in the Other World. When people begin to fail to recognize the difference between fantasy and reality, then the Old Masters shall come back.”

 

After hearing the news that I was carrying a baby, scarcely could he, the Old Soldier, restrain himself from dancing about the room and muttering mantras or blessings every time he met me, despite his terrible illness. And I’d swear an oath by Swtakh that he promised everything to me after his time. I’m already running the llama sanctuary up in the north very successfully. Soon I’ll get my hands on the shares for the pig farm on the Southern Continent, too (Kos-tagwa, wasn't it?). Ooh, he was a very odd man. It was as if he’d been enchanted by a demonic face in some magic mirror, fallen through it into Another World, and found strange powers, or lots of alien ideas at least. He had nothing else on his mind by then but playing the hero, pretending he was saving the Eyrth, and staying alive for ever through the magic of the House of Rebirth (there's a stupid notion for you!). He did use to love animals, though, the white cats, and the black roosters, and all the hateful beetles, there’s no two ways about it. 

 

“Our ancestors were right about dealing with the mental sparks which allow us to open a path to the Nw Yrth. Well, the shamans at least had the correct idea, those who would steal and gulp down the mead of wild poetry in order to visit the Alterverse illegally but unhindered. Then they’d have to sacrifice their human senses to walk the ways of the mute, follow the streets of the deaf, and tread the paths of the blind. But at last, whilst swimming in the infinite lake of the imagination, they would touch the original chaos which is eternal and disconnected, and teeming with the differences that are always present between thinking an experiencing, which are extinguished so quickly within the ever-moving confusion. And so they would learn how to steer the creation of the future as if they were throwing stones to stir up waves in the fluid of the shared past of all humanity.”

 

The old fool Jack was caught in an imaginary realm, in a sense, what with all the arithmetistics and fake-wizarding, but his character – and the sickness – caused him to act out his delusions. There were, of course, consequences to his exotic behaviour. I would guess that he desired David – the big hairy bogey-man – very strongly, to be honest. Indeed, the Old Soldier was always trying to chat with the lad about his Father, and their adventures, as well as all the crazy beliefs, and so on. He wouldn’t leave him alone. That’s why David came to hate Procter in the end, although he was here in the Clinic because of Jack. And moreover, although Stevie liked David so much, he had problems of his own, which I can’t talk about at the present time. Enough to say that he was extremely jealous of the attention the other boy was attracting. So, he admired David and despised him at the same time.

 

“This is the genuine nature of the World I’ve been revealing whilst doing this job throughout my life. This is the knowledge about human consciousness I’ve been labouring to spread through the World to create a new way of thinking and behaving [**]. And in order to do that I’ve borrowed so much from so many – words, voices, stories, personalities – using the sound-transceiver, the televisual screen, newspapers, novels, and patients – over the years! I have tried to devise the future by enchanting the shadows of the past.” 

 

Ooh, there we are, I mustn’t forget – my empty-headed genius of a step-brother Stevie, or whatever the word is – who’s Mrs Grossmann’s love-child, of course. He was her little accident, that’s what she says. It’s no surprise that something like that would have happened, with Mr G  – my Pater – going off all the time to film interesting weather systems, record televisual programs, interview deceitful politicians – and the rest. Before running off with my Māter, that is. Well, it’s fair to say that the lad suffered from an overabundance of mother-love, whereas on the other hand, I had precious little parental affection. 

 

“Only the terrible Book of Mirrors containing techniques belonging to Wezir, the legendary shape-shifter, can allow one to become a master of the craft of constant transformation. And having done that, one will be able to disappear from within the magic whirlpool of pictures, personalities, characters, masks, and illusions which surrounds us and besieges us every second of every day.” 

 

The pressure was overwhelming in the end, and Stevie-boy went off the rails, although he’s getting better and better by now. He lives here in my new Clinic, and is helping me to care for our wonderful baby and all the other residents (the alternative-youth crew I mean, haha, who're so annoyingly talented and so creatively dangerous!). There must be someone for everyone somewhere, and maybe he’ll be as happy as a wave dancing on the sea, in the long run, when he finds his own love, but I wouldn’t expect that that’ll happen too soon. Pigs might fly, and so on, right? Hmmm, where’s the silly lad now? He must’ve gone for a spin in the van – there’s one cheeky flax-haired lemur for you! 

 

“From one view-point I’ve failed in my task of re-making the World under my own steam, but I’ve not been lazy. Instead, I’ve succeeded in creating through magical tricks the Son Foretold, and it was essential for me to use several people to accomplish this. In any battle, some will have to die, or suffer at least – and the war to end all wars awaits. The lad shall be a true phoenix, son to the Daughter of the Dawn who refused to be an old maid after losing her sweetheart. His father the Unsuccessful Hero was steeped in blood, and death, and confusion, and pain. However, the babe shall gain pleasure from bathing in the imaginary waters of the Nw Yrth, beyond good an evil, without truth and falsehood.”

 

Of course, I almost died in a van accident, too. I was only attempting to go through things and organize everything. And there I was getting rid of lots of the old rubbish from the cottage, when he tried to knock me down, David the complete fool, that is. Well, that’s how it felt to me, anyway. He was using the fake-name Daa·hweeth, or Daud, or Dai by then, and he almost died too. No-one knows how he survived. Some kind of miracle, they said. I told him to leave me alone after that, in no uncertain terms. But he kept on following me everywhere and hiding like a stinking shadow or an annoying younger brother, worse than before, to be honest. Really, the situation was awfully odd when we met each other in that old blue cottage sometime after the accident, and I fainted. There were enormous problems with the sewers there, it was as if there were vulgar voices muttering and laughing gutturally all the time. The smell was so unpleasant, too, like ozone, I believe. It was directly before I became pregnant, and Oh, I had an awful shock because of what happened. I can’t describe it or explain what went on there. For once, I don’t know what to say at all, but the whole World changed completely from then on. Maybe I’ll try to express everything through the medium of one-woman cathartic theatrics someday.

 

“Maybe, as a result of his inhumanly unique abilities – at some fateful and completely terrifying time to come – the Son Foretold shall bring new information back from the Nw Yrth, or even, having slipped through the Cleft between the Worlds without being harmed, from some new Unknown Dimension. And then he’ll show us how it’s possible to live. Then, we’ll acknowledge and begin to celebrate the foundational differences between the self and the other, the technologists and the crafter, the signs and the clay, the Eyrth and the Nw Yrth, rather than trying to force the two sets of conflicting characteristics to agree. I’ve learned that we are all trapped in a web of symbols. And we’ll all have to guard against the deceptive images, always. If we can escape, the Alterverse will be awaiting us, and that’ll be a kingdom full of joy, and tears, and glory. And then we can overcome the barriers between men and women, sons and daughters, information and imagination, fact and fantasy, the oppressed folk and the elevated lords, necessity and possibility, creating a new organic whole. That’s my steadfast hope, and my heart-felt prayer.”

 

Right, then! Having said all that, having shared all the dirty secrets, and now that our good Doctor’s sermonizing has come to an end – that’s more than enough of the heavy nonsense. I have to admit – I’m a real cheery cricket who’s half woman, called Jiminy, most of the time anyway, one who’s forever chirruping “r-chep, r-chep, r-chep.” But, Ooh, one last thing before I go to talk with the inhabitants of this Mad’ouse about wetting the bed, bodies crawling with maggots, sacks with children in ‘em, letters from the dead, bad thoughts, my attitudes towards education, magic compared with science, bloody tears, the advantages of arson compared with poisoning, the Town Hall, the Ziggurats of the Nw Yrth, the Seven Wonders of the World, and so on, and so forth – to surfeit and beyond. Here we are – remember this – I am the voice of sense and reason. It’s only me who knows what’s what, and can get things done round here. Keep an eye out for me, I’ve great expectations for the future. I’ll not give up on putting this crazy place in order, even if the whole World’s on fire. And my son will inherit everything in due course, be sure of that, exactly in accordance with the Old Soldier’s promise! But before long I’d like to go and visit the little squealers on the pig farm, Ooh, they’re hellish cute, those wrinkly pink critters, aren’t they?

 

*             *             *             *             *             *             *             *

 

[*] The main text comes from “Screams from the Outskirts” by Helen Balrog Grossmann and the interpolations from “Beguiling Minds: Incomparable Phaneronic Methods for Growth and Transformation” by D B Procter MD PhD. — P.M.

 

[**] Before he disappeared once and for all, D B Procter insisted that I include the following here. — P.M.] EDITORIAL NOTE: Having been captivated for a while by the short-lived charms of music, I devoted myself to discovering more persistent truths and began studying numerological theorems of all kinds. I came to believe as time flowed by (although I cannot substantiate this definitively even now), that there are some numerological statements that we shall never be able to prove or disprove without inventing utterly new ways of thinking. But, when we do that, we shall find more propositions of the same type, and so will the cycle continue. And worse, I worry that it will not be possible in general to prove that interesting systems are even self-consistent using methods available in these structures themselves. But at least all my ideas regarding chaos, fractals, cellular automata, and artificial brains have borne profitable fruit in terms of intuiting truths and producing practically useful results, although we are not able to demonstrate formally why these are correct. I am still convinced that we as a species must allow ourselves to be transformed entirely. — D.B.P.

 

Y tu mewn i gysgod seicig unigolyn y cynhwysir pob agwedd anymwybodol y meddwl nas goleuir gan ffagl ymwybyddiaeth. Cartref greddf anifeilaidd yw’r cysgod anrhesymol, a chronfa gwyll a drwg ydy hefyd, ond ffynhonnell creadigrwydd ydy ar yr un pryd. Os bydd dyn yn gwrthod ei anghenion sylfaenol, a ffrwyno’i awyddau dyfnaf, fe’u hallanoli o’r diwedd ar y byd. Bydd hyn yn creu yn ei dro len lledrith rhwng yr unigolyn a’i amgylchedd fel na all weithredu’n briodol. Ymhellach, egni gwyllt y cysgod arswydus sy’n cynrychioli ysbryd cryf a chyfiawn, yn hytrach nag atalnwydau’r ysgolhaig analluog. Bydd y cyntaf yn gweithio tuag at dyfiant a rhyddhad yn y pendraw er yr afreolaeth, tra bydd yr ail yn arwain tuag at wrthgyhuddo a diddymiad ar ben einioes o rwystredigaeth. Felly gallwn ni gyfaddef nad yw dylanwad y cysgod yn hollol niweidiol, ond bod rhaid ei drin yn ofalus iawn a chyda pharch eithriadol.

 

Dewch ‘mlaen, ‘ta, dewch i’m parlwr, medd y corryn wrth y pryf [*]. Nid mi sy’n gwau gwe o wead cywrain, yn llawn dichell ac ystryw, ynye? Fyddwn i fyth yn dweud celwyddau wrthych chi, fyddwn i? Helen Grossmann MSc dw i – enw ddylai’ch atgoffa chi am Seléynē, y Lleuad; am Elen Fannog, merch i Ddial, a’i henw yn dŵad o Helénē sy’n golygu 'ffagl’; ac am Vánas, duwies Sintig cariad a harddwch. A, on’d ydym ni’n ymguddio tu ôl i eiriau, ac enwau, a theitlau eraill, fel ‘taen nhw’n fentyll hudol? Mam sengl lwyddiannus iawn dw i, fydd yn dŵad drwyddi, doed a ddelo, ni waeth beth fydd yn digwydd iddi. Ac mi fydda i’n Feddyliaethydd Blaenllaw sy'n adnabyddus ledled yr hen Fyd gorffwyll, maes o law, os bydd y cynllun yn llwyddo. Mi rwy eisoes wedi ennill gradd uwch mewn Astudiaethau Technegol o Boly-ysgol Aberdydd, fel y gwyddoch chi. Ond cynta’, mi fydd arnaf angen gwrando ar yr hen Ddoethur Procter ‘na (“Mistar Gerdd-ar-Fasglau-Wyau”) yn rhyngu arni am “wrthffurfiau anochel yr anweladwy” er mwyn medru sgwennu fy nhraethawd ola’, a dŵad yn Aelod o’r Urdd, fel ‘tasa. Ac wedyn, wedi fy mhrofi fy hun o’r diwedd, mi fydda i’n dechrau ymddwyn fel y mynnaf fi, yn hytrach na chwarae’r gemau chwerthinllyd hyn i gyd.

 

“Sut allwn ni ddisgrifio’r berthynas rhwng bodau dynol a’r hyn sy’n bodoli tu hwnt iddyn nhw? Dyna gwestiwn yn wir! Wel, rydym ni’n byw mewn dau fyd fel petai. O ran y meddwl, gad i fi ganolbwyntio ar sut rydym ni’n amgyffred, meddwl, credu, dychmygu. Rhaid i ddyn ystyried i ddechrau, yr holl symbolau sy’n diffinio a threfnu popeth, yn enwedig symbolau iaith. Maen nhw’n creu rhwyd annherfynol sy’n ein dal ni, hyd yn oed cyn i ni gael ein geni. Dyma enghraifft i ti. Dychmygwch Sorakados yn darganfod cyfrinachau’i etifeddiaeth fel ailymgnawdoliad rhyw hen sêr-ddewin, a bod ei enw’n golygu ‘Swynwr’ yn iaith gysefin rhyw Deyrnas Ddychmygol y bydd yn rhaid iddo ymweld â hi i gyflawni ei ffawd. Neu eto i gyd, beth am Swtach yn datgelu i ryw lanc colledig yn y ‘stafell las yn ddwfn islaw Afon Dagrau taw Stharafan oedd ei wir enw, gwreiddiol. Ac wrth gwrs, dyna enw sy’n golygu ‘Tywysydd Medrus,’ er doedd ‘na ddim clem ‘da’r dyn cyn hynny.”

 

Mi sy wedi bod yn adrodd y straeon hyn i gyd, wel, eu recordio nhw a'u darllen i'm hun yn uchel wrth eu trawsgrifio nhw, beth bynnag. At bwrpas ymchwil. Wel, dyna beth maen nhw’n ei feddwl, o leiaf, y gwesteion yn y fedlam hon. Casglu’r egni seicig dw i, dyna’r gwir. 'Pa beth yw dyn?', maen nhw’n dal i ofyn drwy’r amser – neu’n bwysicach – 'Pa fath o ddyn ydw i?' Pa fath o ddyn, yn wir! Dyna lwyth o hen slwtsh crawnllyd! Maen nhw’n traethu chwedlau’n llawn helbul a helynt, heb os – ein heneidiau colledig, chwerthinllyd – ond y straeon 'ma nad ydynt yn dynodi dim byd. Ww, maen nhw’n gwirioni ar yr hen Chwifiwr-gwaywffon yn y lle gresynus hwn, ond mi yw’r unig wir ysbryd creadigol yma ar hyn o bryd, heb rithyn o amheuaeth. A mi sydd â llawer o friwsion blasus ichi – hanes y llawforwyn, yn wir – a benthyg ymadrodd cwmws!

 

“Ac felly, heb yn wybod i ni, ac allan o’n rheolaeth, llunnir strwythurau a phrosesau yn y meddwl â chadwyni o symbolau cysylltiedig. Er enghraifft, dyna enwau’n rhieni ni, eu swyddau, eu crefyddau, eu safle mewn cymdeithas, eu hieithoedd, eu breuddwydion a’u hunllefau, a’r cyflyrau meddygol maen nhw’n diodde’ ohonyn nhw, i enwi dim ond ychydig. Ond beth fydd yn digwydd os na fydd gennych chi rieni i gychwyn yr afalans o symbolau? Dw i ddim yn golygu bod y rhieni wedi marw, ond yn hytrach rwy’n ystyried y rhai sy wedi’u creu’u hunain, fel petai. Wel, o ystyried mytholeg, byddan nhw’n dod yn dduwdodau, fel y Saith Swynwr Erchyll, o’r enw Lushfé, Tefnuth, Hebé, Nuthkí, Wezir, Isheth, a Nebesh. Ac rwyt ti’n gwybod beth ddigwyddodd iddyn nhw.”

 

A sôn am Mrs Grossmann sy’n coelio mai’r Arglwyddes MacBeth ydi, mi sy 'di bod yn rhedeg y lle byth oddi ar pan gerddais i mewn drwy ddrws ffrynt y plasty brwnt hwn lle bu bron i'r hwch fynd trwy'r siop. A dyna er gwaetha'r hyn mae hithau’n honni. Mi fuodd hi wastad yn annog David i ‘neud drygau ‘fyd, ac arwain Stevie ar gyfeiliorn ar ben ‘ny. A pham mae hi'n mynnu fy mod yn siarad yn rhyfedd, ni wn i byth! Mi sy 'di teithio ledled y Byd wedi'r cwbl i gael hyd i ddulliau newydd o dramor i gynorthwyo'r rhai wedi'u cloi yn fan'ma. Mi rwy 'di dyfeisio llawer ohonyn nhw 'fyd, wedi'u seilio ar farddoniaeth arbrofol ac actio. Addysgol dros ben oedd y ffosydd yng Nghalon y Cyfandir lle mi ddysgais i gyfrinachau'r dyfeisiau bychain anafu meddwl sydd heb eu hail yn y Ddaear gron. Wrth gwrs, mi rwy wedi dwyn cynlluniau a chysyniadau oddi ar y Goruchwylwyr Gormesol yn ddigywilydd, ‘fyd.

 

“Ac mewn chwedlau unwaith eto, roedd rhai’n bodloni ar yr un rhiant yn unig. Dyna Zuvnirathé, er enghraifft, Gafr Ddu'r Goedwig sydd â Miloedd o Epil, grëwyd gan Hebé o’i chnawd ei hun, yn gythraul o dân sy’n rheoli deddfau natur. Ond, yn gyffredinol, bydd popeth yn ddifesur wael os bydd bod dynol yn tyfu lan ac aeddfedu heb gael ei ddysgu o gwbl am y setiau cyfnewidiol o symbolau sy’n perthyn i’w gymdeithas gan ryw Dwm, Dic neu Harriet. Fodd bynnag, nid holl hanfod a diben bywyd dynol yw’r rhwydwaith hwn sy’n datblygu ac ymganghennu o’n cwmpas ni bob amser. Pan ddaw’r baban ar draws ei adlewyrchiad ei hun mewn drych am y tro cynta’ bydd y byd-olwg a oedd yn crisialu o’r toddiad ieithyddol yn torri yn yfflon.”

 

‘Lly, beth am fy nghariad druan, David, mi ofynnwch chi nesa? Wel, cariad, dyna beth roedd o’n arfer ddeud. Ond wrth gwrs nad oeddem ni’n cael perthynas o unrhyw fath, ar wahân i’r siort therapiwtig, gywir fydd angen ei sefydlu rhwng clinigwr a chlaf. Unrhyw beth arall fuasa ‘di bod yn dra amhriodol, ac yntau’n eitha’ analluog. Mewn ffordd mi roeddwn i’n arfer ei hoffi o, a boddio ei fympwyon, dyna oll. Mi roedd o'n eitha’ diddorol a doniol ar adegau, ac mewn dognau bychain, fel mwnci coch swnllyd a chynhyrfawr, ella. Mi roedd o’n ddeniadol ond dwl, a diflas ar ôl hanner awr. Ond mi ‘naeth popeth newid i raddau helaeth pan aeth o’i go’ â ‘goruwch-fêr’ – cyffur campus o seicotropig os bu un erioed – ac mi roeddwn i’n cynhyrfu a mynd yn siomedig iawn i ddechrau. Mi roedd o’n gynhyrchu fo yn rhywle efo help Wncwl Jack, mae’n ymddangos rŵan, i’w werthu yn y digwyddiadau miwsig anghyfreithlon. Mi 'naeth o ddechrau rhedeg o gwmpas y cefn gwlad gan feddwl ei fod o’n cyfathrebu efo ysbryd cythryblus ei Dad neu endidau rhyfedd eraill. Mi roedd wedi’i ddarbwyllo’i hun mai Eneiniog yr Hen Dduwiau oedd o, ac felly ei fod o’n anarcholladwy, a bod angen arno fo achub y Byd. Er gwaetha ‘nheimladau gwreiddiol, sut bynnag, mi ddes i ataf fy hun ar fyrder, ac ailymafael yn fy nyletswyddau hanfodol yr un mor broffesiynol ag o’r blaen. Mi ddylwn i dderbyn medal yn fy nhyb i.

 

“Bydd y plentyn bach yn dechrau cystadlu â’r ddelwedd wedi’i hallanoli o’i hunan. A dyna ddim ond dechrau’r proses. Ac felly y sefydlir cystadleuaeth barhaol o hynny ‘mlaen rhwng dwy ochr, sef yr hyn sy’n rhan o’i hunan, o’i gymharu â phopeth arall, y tu allan a‘r tu hwnt, lle o’r blaen roedd dim ond teimlo ac ymateb i anghenion y corff. Bydd hyn yn adeiladu dull hollol newydd o edrych ar y byd o ran y plentyn, fel lle’n llawn o ddelweddau sy’n anhysbys, aflywodraethus, a brawychus. Ond ar yr un pryd maen nhw’n boenus o ddeniadol, a chyffrous. Yn ei dro, bydd hyn yn arwain i gyflwr lle bydd e’n teimlo ei fod wedi’i hollti mewn sawl dryll na chân nhw’u hailgysylltu byth. Ond wedi dweud hynny, drwy ryngweithio gyda’r ddelwedd, ac wedyn gyda phobl eraill yn bodoli’n annibynnol iddo’i hunan, bydd y crwt yn dysgu ac ymarfer amrywiaeth fwy helaeth o lawer o opsiynau ar gyfer sut i ymddwyn. Wedi’r cwbl, pwy yn wir fyddai eisiau bodoli mewn byd hollol wag, rhyw ‘stafell las, heb yr un person arall ynddi?”

 

Er gwaetha’ popeth roeddwn i ‘di ddarganfod am ei gefndir, dyna oedd y diwedd i mi. A ‘doedd gen i wahaniaeth, 'chwaith, achos mai’r un ffunud â’i Dad hunanol fuodd erbyn hynny, yn ôl pob cyfri’, er gwaetha’r holl eiriau teg. Wel, yn ôl adrodd yr Hen Filwr, beth bynnag. Wrth gwrs mae popeth yn dyddio yn ôl at gyfnod y Cythrwfl Mawr. Mi roedd y gwallgofddyn John, hynny yw Baxter yr hyna’n walch bach i ddechrau, ond mi ddaeth yn fwli rhonc a dihiryn llwyr ar ôl ei brofiadau. Nid oedd o fyth yn ymladd, ni raid dweud, ac mewn gwirionedd mi roedd o’n manteisio ar y sefyllfa fel llwfrgi o smyglwr digywilydd a 'nâi ddwyn oddi ar yr un ochr i werthu i’r garfan arall. Ac wrth reswm, mi fydda fo’n defnyddio’r ffugenw ‘Ivan’ fel ‘tasa fo’n rhyw fath o grwsadwr o’r Famwlad Aflonydd flynyddoedd maith yn ôl. Mi ddôi â’r hogyn efo fo ar ei deithiau i gludo sylweddau anghyfreithlon, ac mi fydda fo’n ei orfodi’n aml i weld a chymryd rhan mewn gweithgareddau ofnadw’. ‘Sdim syndod o gwbl iddo yntau dyfu’n llanc wedi drysu a dig.

 

“Unwaith ein bod ni wedi'n dal yn blant gan y ddelwedd yn y drych, ac wedi syrthio, fel petai, i fodolaeth lawn yn y Byd, allwn ni byth ddychwelyd i'n diniweidrwydd cysefin, na dianc rhag gafael y delweddau sy'n cropian ym mhob man. Mae’r delweddau'n gyfrwys. Maen nhw'n dod yn real, yn fyw. Dw i ddim yn golygu lluniau'n unig. Byddan nhw'n ymrithio mewn tirwedd dri dimensiwn ar ffurf pobl, er enghraifft. Ac felly byddan nhw'n sleifio i'n bywyd ni i'n lapio ni, gan ddatblygu i fod yn fwy pwysig na'r hyn fyddan nhw'n ddisodli. Dod yn rhan ohonon ni 'nân nhw, a'n hysgubo ni i ffwrdd, wrth i ni ddod yn rhannau ohonyn nhw, gan golli golwg ar beth a phwy fuodd yno yn y lle cynta'.”

 

Ond unwaith, ar hap a damwain, a thrwy frad, yn hytrach na dewrder, mi ‘naeth John, yn rhith Ivan yr Ellyllyn Cryf, achub bywyd Jack Procter, sefydlwr enwog y Clinig hwn a oedd, rywsut, y pryd hynny, yn is-gadlywydd yng ngrymoedd y gwrthryfelwyr. [Oedd, yn wir. Oedd e wedi mynd dros i’r ochr arall, neu’n chwarae’r ffon ddwybig at ei ddibenion astrus ei hunan? — P.M.] Mi roedd wedi’i ddal gan y glymblaid (hynny ydy, y goresgynwyr), ac yn cael ei gadw mewn sach hesian i ddisgwyl ei ffawd, wedi’i rwymo’n dynn ac yn anymwybodol ar ôl cael ergyd ar ei ben (dyna sut mae’r stori’n rhedeg bob tro beth bynnag). Mi roedd Baxter yn darparu llaeth mwnci –diod gadarn anghyfreithlon, yn llawn hylifau glanhau, tynnwr farnais ewinedd, gwrthrewydd, methanol, a phlwm – i’r gormeswyr gwrthun. Mi roedd eu pencadlys dros dro mewn bwthyn glas yr awyr (ac ar ei waliau ddwbiadau o arwyddion hynafol a sanctaidd, yn ôl yr arbenigwyr), ger hen orsaf betrol ymhlith y pinwydd. Yno mi roedden nhw’n cadw’r storau’n cynnwys yr holl boteli o wirod golau lleuad.

 

“Eto i gyd, dim ond crib y rhewfryn yw’r symbolau a’r delweddau, y goddrychau o’n canfod normal ni. Beth sy’n gorwedd y tu ôl, a’r tu hwnt, ac islaw i’r rhain? Mae ‘na ryw gyfrwng, rhyw stwff, rhyw ddull o fod ym mhle gosodir popeth rydym ni’n gwybod amdano. Y Nw Yrth yw fy enw arno fe, ac fe fues i yno unwaith, pan o’n i’n laslanc yn llawn nerth, ac er ei bod yn fangre hynod o hardd, ac eithriadol o arswydus, fe ddes i ‘nôl yn ddiniwed, mwy neu lai. Dw i ddim wedi gallu dilyn y trywydd i fynd yno eto er gwaetha’ mor galed dw i ‘di ceisio. Ond rwy wedi dod i’r casgliad dyw dim byd arall yn real o’i gymharu â’r fro honno sy’n anniffiniadwy ac ingol i’w phrofi. Yno roedd fy ngeiriau’n ofer, ond yn y pridd eithriadol i’w gael yno, fe fydd yr holl egni, a nerth, a phŵer yn ein Daear ni’n blaguro.”

 

Ond mi ‘naeth damwain ofnadw’ ddigwydd pan ‘naeth y cono ostwng ei smôc o gneuen goco a banana gan beri i’r lle ffrwydro. Mi ‘naeth o lusgo’r sach ymaith gan feddwl ei bod yn llawn arian a chyffuriau, yr hen gribiniwr crebachlyd, a dianc efo hi yn ei gerbyd fflamllyd (na, nage rhywbeth cyfriniol o'r Hen Lyfrau ydoedd, ond fan wen a oedd ar dân oherwydd y ffrwydrad). O hynny ‘mlaen felly, mi roedd John yn cymryd arno ei fod o’n arwr rhyfel gan iddo lwyddo i achub bywyd Jack. Ond, fel mewn rhyw hen chwedl gan y Ficingiaid – yn llawn corachod crafangog, dinosoriaid ffurf-newidiol, adar siaradus, cribddeilwyr o dduwdodau sy’n torri’u llwon, ceffylau wythgoes, mynyddoedd fflamllyd, a llongau hedegog – er gwaetha’ lwc dda gyson yr oferwr, mi fydda ei nam sylfaenol yn achosi ei dranc wedi hir ddisgwyl yn y pen draw. Gwers hyn oll yw na all dyn ddianc rhag traethiad gormesol bywyd. Wel, nid heb gael cymorth gan feddyliaethydd arloesol fel mi, wrth reswm, fydd yn helpu ichi dorri drwy gadwyni’r gorffennol.

 

“Pan fyddwn ni’n meddwl neu ddisgrifio pethau fel arfer, bydd ein gweld, ein hamcanu, a’n cynllunio’n cael eu cyfyngu gan ein symbolau anaddas a’n delweddau truenus. Ar y Nw Yrth, ni cheir gwir nac anwiredd ac eithrio’r hyn fydd dyn yn creu ar ei gyfer ei hunan. Ac felly yno, mae dweud y ffordd yn amhosib, gan fod pob map yn chwalu yn chwilfriw cyn gynted â gwneir e. Ond yno fe allwch chi mewn theori gael hyd i bob ateb a datrys pob problem – gyda'r gofal a'r ymdrech briodol. Serch ‘ny, mae hefyd yn lle llawn twyll ac ansicrwydd, a dyma leoliad syndod digyfryngiad, sy’n hollol aflonyddol.”

 

Wrth iddyn nhw aros yn yr ysbyty dros dro efo’i gilydd, lle roedd gwraig John yn gweithio, i dderbyn triniaeth ar gyfer eu briwiau, mi ‘naeth Procter rannu ei syniadau od ynghylch yr ocwlt â’r dyn arall. Ei dyb oedd fod popeth ar y Ddaear oddi ar ei echel oherwydd dylanwad asiantau anweladwy ond eithriadol o rymus o’r Blaned, neu’r Bydysawd, neu’r Dimensiwn o’r enw y Nw Yrth. Mi roedden wedi’u gorchymyn gan y Gennad Goch, Swtach Arglwydd yr Anialwch, a fydda’n mynd o amgylch ein Byd ni ar ffurf cysgod pygddu gan ledu celwyddau, creu cynnen, canu clod trais, ac annog pawb i ymladd yn enw purdeb, ffydd, a nerth.

 

“Bydd y rhai sy’n chwarae rhan rymus iawn mewn cymdeithas, (yn aml, Prif Gynrychiolwyr y Werin, Cudd-weithredwyr yr Arch Warchodwr Ymddygiad Cyhoeddus, Wardeniaid Gwyliadwrus Muriau Moesoldeb, y Meistri yn y Celfyddydau Duon yn Hybarch Sefydliadau Addysg Uwch, a Goruchwylwyr Gormesol yr Eglwys Filwriaethus. er enghraifft), ymuno’n hollol â theyrnas y symbolau, gan fewnoli eu harwyddion neilltuol eu hunain i ennill statws a phŵer mewn bywyd. Trwy ‘neud hyn fe ddôn nhw’n swynwyr symbolaidd, neu’n dechnolegwyr ieithyddol, fydd yn rheoli cyfathrebu, llunio synnwyr, a diffinio ystyr. Bydd y pleser enfawr wedi’i gysylltu â defnyddio’u hud yn ymgodi yn y saib o ohirio disgwylgar rhwng ysgogi’r meddwl, a’r gollwng dirybudd a ddaw o sylweddoli’r ystyr a rheoli a newid y Byd.”

 

Mi roedd Swtach yn addo gwobrau enfawr i’r rhai fydda’n ufuddhau, a chosbau erchyll ar gyfer y rhai fydda’n gwrthsefyll. Mae’n swnio’n annhebygol, mi rwy’n cytuno. Ond falla fod y ffigwr ‘ma’n cynrychioli rhyw gyfuniad dychmygol, od o arweinyddion ysbrydol a bydol fel y Marsial Maleisus o Awdurdod Absoliwt y Cwm Ffrwython, a Tad Tragwyddoldeb oedd yn dymuno cipio grym yn yr Eglwys Filwriaethus ar y pryd. Ac o’r herwydd mi fydda trigolion y Byd oll ‘ma’n brwydro dros liw croen, crefydd, iaith, ethnigrwydd, a gwahaniaethau eraill o bob math. Felly mi fydda cymdogion yn tanio tai’i gilydd, merched yn poeri ar eu mamau, ffrindiau’n lladd hen gymrodyr, a thadau’n ymosod ar feibion.

 

“Bydd yn cymryd ymdrech enfawr i weithio gyda'r symbolau'n effeithiol gan greu cyfundrefnau newydd ohonyn nhw, eu rheoli, a'u darlledu. Roedd crefydd yn arfer 'neud hynny orau, ond dyw hi ddim wedi llwyddo i reoli'r Byd ar ei phen ei hunan. Bellach mae'r cynghrair anfad rhwng y Pwyllgor Rhyngwladol ar Ffydd a Moesau, yr Undeb Masnachol Milwrol, a'r Asiantaethau Darlledu Annibynnol yn cymryd ei lle i raddau helaeth. Dw i ddim wedi penderfynu am y rhwyd electronig ryngwladol felltigaid, gan ei bod yn gadael i'r werin bobl greu a rhannau'u syniadau'u hunain yn rhy hawdd.”

 

Mi roedd meddyliaethwyr yn gweithio dros yr Unbeniaid Pinc anrheithgar yn ceisio rhwystro ymdrechion yr ymladdwyr dros ryddid trwy anfon hunllefau a gweledigaethau; cnudoedd o gŵn gwynion cynddeiriog a’u clustiau’n gringoch ynghyd â greoedd o geffylau fampiraidd, ffyrnig, eu cyrff yn ysgerbydau, a’u llygaid yn fflamllyd. Nid oedd yn anodd i Procter argyhoeddi Baxter heb os, am fod yr olaf yn barod i goelio bron dim byd ar ôl goroesi’r ddamwain. Daeth y ddau gyd-filiwr newydd yn frodyr gwaed gan dyngu llw yn enw'r Hanfod Anhraethol i waredu’r Ddaear o’r Grymoedd Gorthrymus a gynhaliai oruchafiaeth yr EGO a'r Ymerodraeth Binc. Ac wrth gwrs, mi fydda hyn oll yn dechrau cael dylanwad enfawr ar David druan yn ddigon buan, pan fydda’n rhaid iddo gymryd rhan mewn defodau atgas, ac yn y blaen. Ar un achlysur pan oedd o’n ifanc iawn, mi ‘naeth deimlo iddo fo gael ei anfon ar neges i ryw Blaned ryfedd lle daeth o’n berson gwahanol, a ‘naeth o ddechrau ymddwyn yn ecsentrig iawn o ‘ny ‘mlaen yn ôl y cofnodion prin.

 

“Fel rheol, bydd grym y symbolau’n mynd i lawr o swynwr i brentis, o dechegwr i hyfforddai, pan fydd y prentis yn cymryd le’i feistr yn yr Urdd. Ond nage heb frwydr. I ddechrau, fe fydd y prentis ifanc yn uniaethu â’r swynwr. Wedyn, bydd yr hyfforddai’n dymuno profi a meddu ar y gallu eithriadol y bydd hebddo. O’r herwydd bydd yn rhaid i’r prentis ddisodli’r swynwr hŷn, fel petai, i ddwyn y technegau cyfrinachol ac ymsefydlu fel meistr yn ei fraint ei hunan.”

 

Mi roedden nhw’n coelio bydda’n rhaid iddyn nhw ddefnyddio ymarferion esoterig a galwai am ddisgyblaeth lem, i gyflenwi beth bynnag fydda angen ‘neud. Wedi hynny, fodd bynnag, tra cadwai Procter ei addewid, mi ‘naeth Baxter fanteisio ar y cyfle wedi’i ddarparu gan y castiau glogyn a chleddyf i ehangu’i fusnes cyffuriau plwyfol i'r maes byd-eang. Aeth o’n rhy hoff o lawer o fwyta'r ffwng aml-liwiog roedd o'n ei gludo a'i werthu – er mwyn cyfathrebu â grymoedd cosmig, yn ôl y sôn – a dyna oedd un rheswm eithriadol o dda mi fydda o’n deud ei fod yn clywed lleisiau.

 

“Bydd pob swynwr yn ofni Swtach, Arglwydd Anrhefn, a allai ddrysu’r symbolau a thynnu’i nerth yn ei ôl. O ganlyniad i hyn bydd technolegwyr yn tueddu i fod yn or-ymwybodol ac mewn braw o'r Tad Cysefin drwy’r amser. Bydd arnyn nhw angen defnyddio eu galluoedd yn gyson y tu hwnt i’r llenni, fel na ân nhw i’r gwynt. Gallwn ni weud hyn heb os, felly: unwaith i’r swynwr gipio’r pŵer symbolaidd, bydd arno fe angen gweithredu, a siarad, a charu, a brwydro, a bwrw hud, nage drwy ddewis, ond rhag ofn i’r nerth ei ysu cyn diflannu a’i adael yn ddim ond plisgyn crebachlyd.”

 

Wel, dyna oedd Baxter y Tad, ac mi fydda i’n sôn am Baxter y Mab rŵan. Wel, fel y crafa’r iâr y piga’r cyw, meddan nhw. Mewn gwirionedd, mi roedd y ddau ohonyn nhw’n gaeth i’r drefn gymdeithasol ddaethon nhw ohoni. O, mi ‘naeth David geisio dianc rhag y slym, a’r hen ŵr sadistaidd, a’r trais achlysurol, a’r sbeis mwnci. Ond nid posibl rhwystro ffawd, nac osgoi’r meini melin o fagwraeth ac amgylchiad. Yng nghyflawnder amser, felly, trywanwyd Tad David mewn deliad drygiau aflwyddiannus.

 

“Ar y llaw arall, mae’r gwynfyd wedi’i brofi gan yr ychydig rai sy’n llwyddo i sianelu pŵer o’r Nw Yrth heb ei gadw na chael eu hystumio ganddo fe, yn hollol wahanol, ac yn anodd iawn i’w drin. Mewn ffordd o siarad maen nhw fel crefftwyr sy’n gweithio gyda deunydd crai’r Byd. Dychmygwch y crochenydd yn mowldio’r clai hyblyg a chyfnewidiol, neu’r cerflunydd yn naddu’r garreg i ryddhau ffurf gêl. Fe allem ni weud taw real yw’r pŵer hwn, er ei fod y tu hwnt i’w ddisgrifio, yn hytrach na'r siort sy’n cylchredeg yn ddi-baid ym myd afreal y technolegwyr wedi’i adeiladu o symbolau twyllodrus, a delweddau byrhoedlog. Nerth y crefftwr na ellir ei lefaru, nas rheolir gan gyfreithiau symbolaidd, a dim ond trwy brofiad y’i deellir.”

 

Mi roedd yn drueni mawr bod David gartref pan ‘naeth wegio’i Dad yn ôl i’r tŷ, wedi’i anafu hyd at farw ond yn dal i hongian byw. Mi roedd y Tad yn melltithio’r Mab yn waeth nag fel arfer, gan ei orchymyn i ddod ag yntau i ffwrdd yn y fan. Mi roedd David isio lladd y bwli anedifeiriol oedd ar farw beth bynnag. Ond, er gwaethaf ei gasineb, allai o’m goresgyn yr arswyd greddfol na’r synnwyr llethol o ufudd-dod a enynnid gan y dyn oedd yn fwy sbeitlyd a ffyrnig nag arfer oherwydd yr anafiadau, ac felly helpu fo ‘naeth y llanc. Beth arall fedra bachgen oed ysgol ‘neud, deudwch? Mi roedd un tro ola’ ar fyd oedd mor farddol haeddiannol ag oedd yn gomig o drist ac yn greulon (dan yr amgylchiadau). Bu farw’r Tad mewn ffrwydrad – ryfedd dweud – wrth ddilorni’i Fab efo’r geiriau na fydda fo fyth yn ddyn (mi ‘naeth David ddarganfod hyn yn ystod ein sesiynau dwys yn y Clinig).

 

“Mae’r crefftwr hudol am orchuddio ei hun mewn pŵer fydd yn diflannu ar yr eiliad y profir e, hyd yn oed pan fydd dyn yn ceisio ei ddisgrifio, sy’n cynhyrchu llawenydd yn debyg i lesmair caru, fel blas gwin coch rhywiog, fel harddwch syfrdanol machlud haul. Ac yn hyn o beth fe fydd pob llond dwrn o glai’n ddihafal. Ni fodola’r darn cynddelwig ohono fe. Ond o allu teithio’n rhydd i’r Nw Yrth, byddai’n bosib i bawb gael eu bodloni’n llwyr ar y fath nerth unigryw, creadigol, a rhyddhaol.”

 

Â’i anadl ola’, ymddengys – cyn i’r Tad gael ei ffrwydro’n gyrbibion a’r Mab neidio i ddiogelwch, ond nid heb gael ei losgi’n ddifrifol – mi ‘naeth John ddeud bu bron i David achosi i’w Fam farw pan gafodd o’i eni, ac iddyn nhw ill dau gasáu o fyth oddi ar hynny. Wel, mi roedd yr hogyn eisoes wedi colli’i Fam, ac yn sgil yr amlygiad anfad ‘ma (a adalwyd yma o dan f’arweiniad therapiwtig arbenigol i) – gan na fedrai David gael gwared ar ddelwedd ei Dad, fel ‘tasa – y Mab a ‘naeth etifeddu’r baich, y felltith, y diffyg llawenydd, a’r ansicrwydd parhaol, oedd wastad wedi plagio’r dyn hŷn. Ddaeth yr artaith ddim i ben yna, ‘chwaith, am wn i, am fod David yn cael ei gam-drin ers cryn amser gan Wncwl a oedd i fod i helpu i ofalu am y plant. Mi welai David fai arno ei hun am beidio â bod yn ddigon dewr i ddianc rhag y sefyllfa dreisgar ar y pryd, gan beri i’r delweddau mewnol uffernol dyfu’n wyllt a chry’, hefo cymorth poen y creithio seicosomatig.

 

“Dyw pwerau’r swynwyr, hynny yw’r technolegwyr, ac eiddo’r crefftwr ddim yn gymesur â’i gilydd, nac ydyn nhw’n cwblhau’i gilydd ‘chwaith. Maen nhw’n wahanol yn y bôn. Yn y fagl mae’r technolegwyr, tra mae’r crefftwr yn rhydd. Mae’r swynwyr gresynus yn ymlafnio i greu a rheoli byd cyflawn a meidrol gan ddefnyddio geiriau, delweddau, a chysyniadau. Fodd bynnag, o ganlyniad i waredd a dyfalbarhad cariadus y crefftwr, bydd pob lwmp o glai’n datgelu ffurfiau gwahanol ac anhysbys fydd yn dod i’r golwg wrth i wrthrych ei grefft esblygu.”

 

Hmm, wel, rŵan, mae’n amser troi yn ôl i ystyried fy ‘Ewythr’ Jack, oedd yn ddigon hen i fod fy nhaid, mewn gwirionedd. Nid oedd yr Hen Filwr yn perthyn i mi o waed coch cyfan, wrth reswm, diolch byth (ni waeth faint y dymuno rhai gwiwerod gwenwynllyd daflu ata i, ac inna'n hollol ddiniwed)! Beth bynnag, er gwaetha’i oed a’i argyhoeddiadau ffug-grefyddol, mympwyol ynghylch mantrâu tantrig a gorfodi Kundalini i gydymffurfio â’i ewyllys, mi roedd yr hen gi mor hurt o chwantus, a bod yn berffaith onest. Ww, mi fydda yntau’n dal i ensynio fy mod yn hoff iawn ohono fo mewn rhyw ffordd annaturiol, doedd o ddim yn ddoniol o gwbl yn y pen draw. Ach-a-fi, dychmygwch! Pa mor annymunol fydda hynny wedi bod? Mae’n codi croen gŵydd arna’ i! Edrychwn i’m arno fo drwy das wair, yr hen adyn, a llawn cystal, ‘fyd!

 

“Gwaed a thân yw elfennau’r dirwedd hudol ar y Nu Yrth. Yma ar y Ddaear, gwragedd gan amla’ sy biau wrth natur hadau’r pŵer creadigol sylfaenol, fel maen nhw wastad wedi ‘neud, er dydyn nhw ddim yn sylweddoli’r ffaith. Yn wir, dim ond mewn cymdeithasau dan reolaeth Dilynwyr y Broffwydes byddan nhw’n cyrraedd fel rheol safleoedd o awdurdod gwir, lle gallan nhw drin pŵer a dylanwadu ar ddigwyddiadau. Ym mhob man arall, bydd gwŷr yn awchu am ddwyn eu nerth a’i feddiannu trwy drais a thrwy hoced. Ac O, rwy wedi dysgu cymaint gan fy annwyl chwaer i, er dyw hi byth yn defnyddio’i phwerau eithriadol. Ond mae’n amlwg nad blodau pert yn unig yw menywod, wrth reswm, ond hefyd bodau all ymddangos fel bwystfilod marwol ag adenydd a chrafangau pan fydd rhaid.”

 

Ond ‘naeth o, Wncwl Jack, ddim rhoi cymaint â’i fys bach arna’ i, er ei fod yn meddwl iddo fo ‘neud drwg i mi pan es i i ofyn iddo am ei ddamcaniaethau efo golwg ar batrymau mathemahudol mewn mydryddiaeth. ‘Dwn i’m o ble daeth y syniad ‘na. Breuddwyd gwrach wrth ei hewyllys o’i ran o, falla, pwy a ŵyr? A dweud y gwir mi roeddwn i isio cael cip ar yr holl drysorau roedd o’n cadw yn seler yr hen fwthyn hyll ‘na yn ogystal â’r casgliad o gyfrolau llwydion, diflas. ‘Doedd ganddo fo ddim byd o werth yno am welwn i, yr hen gnaf chwyslyd, er bod y drws derw’n arwain i lawr y grisiau’n debyg i un ddoech chi o hyd iddo mewn rhyw ddwnsiwn. Beth bynnag, un am y bechgyn oedd o ar y slei, mi greda i, a siarad yn blwmp ac yn blaen, a mawr les fu hynny i’w wraig druan, gwaetha’r modd. Mi rwy’n amau nad oedden nhw wedi priodi yn y lle cynta’, sut bynnag.

 

“Rhaid i chi ddilyn patrymau drama bywyd i lwyddo yn y gêm. Ond pwy sy'n 'sgrifennu'r rhain, gan greu cynddelw i feddwl ac ymddwyn? Trwy ddylanwadau ar systemau cred pobl mae'r rhai mewn grym yn gallu'u gorfodi nhw i 'neud unrhyw beth. Maen nhw'n deall sut mae'r meddwl grŵp yn gweithredu ac yn defnyddio hyn i reoli'r lluoedd yn unol â'u hewyllys, a heb iddyn nhw sylweddoli. Trwy ledu ideoleg byddan nhw'n perswadio'r boblogaeth i gredu mewn theorïau, cysyniadau, a straeon neilltuol, nes byddan nhw'n 'neud unrhyw beth.”

 

Mi ‘naeth y wraig ddiniwed, gwraig i’r Hen Filwr, ddiflannu yn y pen draw, a hithau’n dwyn baban bach, yng nghwmni rhyw ddeintydd neu fardd, neu gyflwynydd teledol, neu ddarpar wleidydd o Wlad yr Addewid, meddan nhw, megis cysgod yn y nos, byth i’w gweld gan ei chyn-ŵr eto. (Mi sy’n gwybod, fodd bynnag, beth a ‘naeth ddigwydd, pwy oedd y dyn, ac i ble aethon nhw, ond dw i’m yn mynd i ddeud wrthych chi yma). Mae popeth mor gymhleth a deud y lleia’. ‘Naeth Jack roi’r bai arno‘i hun, rywsut, pan ‘nes i feichiogi wrth aros yma – yn yr hen fwthyn glas, a bod yn fanwl gwir. ‘Dwn i’m pam, ond mi fydda’r alcemydd lloerig yn mynd yn gyffrous y tu hwnt bob tro mi awn i i ymweld â’r lle, a fydda fo yno neu beidio. Ac mi fydden nhw – y rhai'n meddwl eu bod mewn grym yma – yn gadael i mi aros yno ar fy mhen fy hun yn aml iawn, dyna’r gwir (oherwydd gofalid am Wncwl yn y Mans yn y diwedd pan waethygodd ei gyflwr). Ww, am dwll uffernol! Mi roedd o’n drewi, dyna’r peth. A'r lle chwech ffiaidd – myn y Saith!

 

“Felly bydd y Grymoedd Bydol yn trefnu’r Byd, ac annog i bobl gysylltu â'r cysgod wedi'i atal y tu mewn iddyn nhw, gan ymateb i'w alwadau tywyll heb ei ddeall na'i barchu. Dyn ni'n cael ein symbylu i gynnau tân i gael gwared ar ofn dim ond i gael ein hysu ganddo. Dyna ffynhonnell yr holl helbul, a rhyfel, a chasineb sydd ohoni yn y Byd heddi'. Ac yn wir, mae hyn yn bwydo'r Duwdodau Anniwall yn y Byd Arall. Pan fydd pobl yn dechrau methu nabod y gwahaniaeth rhwng ffantasi a realiti, wedyn, bydd yr Hen Feistri yn dod yn ôl.”

 

Ar ôl clywed fy mod i’n dwyn baban, o’r braidd mi alla fo ymatal rhag dawnsio ar hyd y ‘stafell gan fwmial mantrâu neu fendithion bob tro bydda fo’n cwrdd â fi, er gwaetha’i salwch gwael. Ac mi fyddwn i’n tyngu llw yn enwau’r Saith Swynwr iddo fo addo popeth i mi ar ôl ei amser o. Mi rwy eisoes yn rhedeg y warchodfa lamaod i fyny yn y gogledd yn llwyddiannus iawn. Yn fuan mi fydda i'n rhoi fy nwylo ar y siârs ar gyfer y fferm foch ar y Cyfandir Deheuol, 'fyd (Kos-tagwa, on'd oedd hi?). Ww, dyn od iawn oedd o. Mi roedd fel 'tasa fo wedi'i reibio gan wyneb cythreulig mewn rhyw ddrych hudol, syrthio trwyddo i mewn i Fyd Arall, a chael hyd i bwerau rhyfedd, neu lawer o syniadau estron o leia’. ‘Doedd ganddo ddim byd arall ar ei feddwl erbyn hynny ond chwarae’r arwr, cymryd arno ei fod yn achub y Ddaear, a dal yn fyw hyd byth trwy hud Tŷ Aileni (dyna fwriad gwirion ichi!). Mi arferai fo wirioni ar anifeiliaid, sut bynnag, y cathod gwynion, a’r ceiliogod duon, a’r holl chwilod ffiaidd, ‘does dim dwywaith amdani.

 

“Roedd ein hynafiaid yn wir o ran trin y gwreichion meddyliol, fydd yn gadael i ni agor llwybr i’r Nw Yrth. Wel, roedd gan y siamaniaid o leia'r syniad cywir, y rhai fyddai'n dwyn a llyncu medd cerddi gwyllt i ymweld â'r Amgenfyd yn anghyfreithlon ond yn ddilestair. Wedyn byddai'n rhaid iddyn nhw aberthu'u synhwyrau dynol i gerdded ffyrdd y mudion, dilyn strydoedd y byddair, a throedio llwybrau'r deillion. Ond o’r diwedd, wrth nofio yn llyn anfeidrol y dychymyg, fe fydden nhw’n cyffwrdd â’r caos cysefin sy’n dragwyddol ac anghyswllt, ac yn heigio o’r gwahaniaethau sydd wastad yn bresennol rhwng meddwl a phrofi, fydd yn cael eu dileu mor gyflym tu mewn i’r dryswch sy’n symud yn gyson. A thrwy hyn fe fydden nhw'n dysgu sut i lywio creu'r dyfodol fel petaen nhw'n taflu cerrig i gynhyrfu tonnau yn hylif gorffennol rhanedig dynolryw oll.”

 

Wedi’i ddal mewn bro ddychmygol roedd yr hen ffŵl Jack, ar ryw ystyr, rhwng yr holl rifoleg a'r ffug-hudoliaeth, ond mi berai'i gymeriad – a'r salwch – iddo fo actio ei gamddychmygion. Mi roedd ‘na oblygiadau i’w ymddygiad egsotig, wrth reswm. Mi fyddwn i’n dyfalu’i fod o’n chwantu David – y bwgan mawr blewog – yn gry' iawn, a bod yn onest. Yn wir mi roedd yr Hen Filwr wastad yn trio sgwrsio efo’r llanc am ei Dad, a’u hanturiaethau, yn ogystal â’r holl goelion gorffwyll, ac ati. Fydda o’m yn gadael llonydd iddo. Dyna pam daeth David i gasáu Procter yn y pen draw er ei fod yntau yma yn y Clinig oherwydd Jack. Ac ymhellach, er bod Stevie yn hoffi David cymaint, mi roedd ganddo fo broblemau o’i hun, alla i’m sôn amdanyn nhw ar hyn o bryd. Digon dweud ei fod o’n genfigennus dros ben o’r sylw roedd y bachgen arall yn dynnu. Felly mi roedd o’n edmygu David a’i ddirmygu ar yr un pryd.

 

“Dyma natur ddilys y Byd rwy wedi bod yn datguddio wrth ‘neud y swydd hon drwy gydol fy mywyd. Dyma’r wybodaeth ynghylch ymwybod dynol, rwy wedi bod yn ymdrechu i’w ledu drwy’r Byd i greu dull newydd o feddwl ac ymddwyn [**]. Ac er mwyn gwneud hyn rwy wedi benthyca cymaint gan gynifer – geiriau, lleisiau, straeon, personoliaethau – drwy ddefnyddio’r sain-drosdderbynnydd, y sgrin deledol, papurau newydd, nofelau, a chleifion – dros y blynyddoedd! Dw i wedi ceisio dyfeisio’r dyfodol trwy swyno cysgodion y gorffennol.”

 

O, dyna ni, rhaid i fi beidio ag anghofio – f’athrylith penwan o lysfrawd Stevie, neu beth bynnag ydi'r gair – sy’n blentyn serch i Mrs Grossmann, wrth gwrs. Ei damwain fach hi oedd o, dyna beth mae hi’n ddeud. Tydi’m yn syndod i mi mai rhywbeth fel hynny fydda wedi digwydd, a Mr G – fy Pater i – yn mynd i ffwrdd drwy’r amser i ffilmio systemau tywydd diddorol, recordio rhaglenni teledol, cyfweld â gwleidyddion twyllodrus – a phopeth arall. Cyn rhedeg i ffwrdd gyda'm Māter i, hynny yw. Wel, chwarae teg fydda deud bod y llanc yn diodde’ o fwy na digon o gariad mam, ond ar y llaw arall, mai dim ond ychydig iawn o hoffter oedd gen i gan y rhieni.

 

 

“Dim ond yr erchyll Lyfr Drychau'n cynnwys technegau'n perthyn i Wezir, y newidiwr ffurf chwedlonol, a all adael i ddyn ddod yn feistr ar grefft trawsnewidio cyson. Ac wedi 'neud hynny fe fedr ddiflannu oddi mewn i'r trobwll swynol o luniau, personoliaethau, cymeriadau, mygydau, a rhithiau sy'n ein hamgylchynu a'n gwarchae ni bob eiliad o bob dydd.”

 

Mi roedd y pwysau’n llethol yn y pen draw, ac mi aeth Stevie-boi oddi ar y cledrau, er ei fod yn dŵad yn wellwell erbyn hyn. Mae o’n byw yma yn fy Nghlinig newydd, ac yn fy helpu i ofalu am ein baban rhyfeddol ni yn ogystal â’r holl breswylwyr eraill (y criw ifanc amgen ni rwy'n olygu 'ma, haha, sy mor blagus o dalentog ac mor greadigol o ddansierus!). Rhaid bod brân i frân yn rhywle, a falla mi fydd o mor llawen â’r gog ym mhen y rhawg pan ddaw o hyd i gariad ei hun, ond fydda i’m yn disgwyl mai hynny ‘naiff ddigwydd yn rhy fuan. Tatws newydd ar bren ‘fale, ac ati, reit? Hmmm, lle mae’r hogyn twp rŵan? Rhaid fod o wedi mynd am dro yn y fan – dyna un lemwr melynwallt egr i chi!

 

“O un safbwynt rwy wedi methu yn fy nhasg i ail-greu’r Byd ar fy liwt fy hunan, ond dw i ddim wedi bod yn ddiog. Yn lle hynny, rwy wedi llwyddo i greu drwy gastiau hudol y Mab Darogan, ac roedd yn angenrheidiol i fi ddefnyddio sawl person i gyflawni hyn. Mewn unrhyw brwydr bydd rhai’n gorfod marw, neu ddiodde’ o leia’ – a’r rhyfel i orffen pob rhyfel sy’n aros. Fe fydd y llanc yn wir ffenics, yn fab i Ferch y Wawr a wrthododd fod yn hen ferchetan ar ôl colli’i chariad. Trwythwyd ei dad yr Arwr Aflwyddiannus mewn gwaed, a thranc, a cymysgwch, a phoen. Fodd bynnag, fe gaiff y baban bleser o ymdrochi yn nyfroedd dychmygol y Nw Yrth, y tu hwnt i dda a drwg, heb wir a geuedd.”

 

Wrth gwrs, mi fuodd bron i mi farw mewn damwain fan hefyd. Dim ond ceisio helpu i fynd trwy bethau a threfnu popeth oeddwn i. A dyna oeddwn i’n cael gwared ar lawer o’r hen ‘sbwriel o’r bwthyn, pan ‘naeth yntau drio ‘mwrw i lawr, David, yr hurtyn llwyr, hynny yw. Wel dyna sut oedd o’n teimlo i mi, beth bynnag. Mi roedd o’n defnyddio’r ffugenw Daa·hweeth, neu Daud, neu Dai erbyn hynny, ac mi ddaeth o fewn y dim i farw hefyd. ‘Does neb yn gwybod sut ‘naeth o oroesi. Rhyw fath o wyrth, medden nhw. Mi ‘nes i ddeud wrtho fo am adael llonydd i mi ar ôl hynny, heb flewyn ar fy nhafod. Ond mi roedd o’n dal i'm dilyn ym mhob man a chuddio fel cysgod drewllyd neu frawd ieuengach, plagus, yn waeth na chynt a bod yn onest. Yn wir, mi roedd y sefyllfa’n od ofnadw’ pan ‘naethon ni gwrdd â’n gilydd yn yr hen fwthyn glas y tro hwnnw rywbryd ar ôl y ddamwain, a ‘nes i lewygu. Mi roedd problemau enfawr efo’r carthffosydd yno, mi roedd fel ‘tasa lleisiau aflednais yn browlan a gyddfol chwerthin drwy’r amser. Mor annymunol oedd yr arogl, ‘fyd, fel osôn, mi rwy’n coelio. Mi roedd yn union cyn i mi feichiogi, ac O, mi gefais i sioc ofnadwy oherwydd yr hyn ‘naeth ddigwydd. Alla i mo'i ddisgrifio neu esbonio beth aeth ‘ymlaen yno. Am unwaith, ‘dwn i’m beth i ddeud o gwbl, ond ‘naeth y Byd newid yn llwyr ar ôl ‘ny. Falla bydda i’n ceisio mynegu popeth trwy gyfrwng theatreg gathartig un fenyw ryw ddydd.

 

“Falle, o ganlyniad i'w alluoedd annynol o unigryw – ar ryw adeg dyngedfennol a chyfan gwbl erchyll i ddod – bydd y Mab Darogan yn dod â’r wybodaeth newydd yn ôl o’r Nw Yrth, neu hyd yn oed, wedi llithro trwy’r Hollt rhwng y Bydoedd heb gael ei frifo, o ryw Ddimensiwn Anhysbys newydd. Ac wedyn bydd yn ein dangos ni sut mae’n bosib byw. Wedyn byddwn ni’n cydnabod a dechrau dathlu’r gwahaniaethau sylfaenol rhwng yr hunan a’r arall, y technolegwyr a’r crefftwr, yr arwyddion a’r clai, y Ddaear a’r Nw Yrth, yn hytrach na cheisio gorfodi'r ddwy set o nodweddion anghyson i gytuno. Rwy wedi dysgu ein bod ni i gyd wedi’n maglu mewn gwe o symbolau. Ac fe fydd yn rhaid i ni oll ochel rhag y delweddau twyllodrus o hyd. Os gallwn ni ddianc, mi fydd yr Amgenfyd yn aros amdanon ni, a dyna fydd yn deyrnas lawn gorfoledd, a dagrau, a gogoniant. Ac wedyn y gallwn ni oresgyn y rhwystrau rhwng gwŷr a gwragedd, meibion a merched, hysbysrwydd a dychymyg, ffaith a ffantasi, y werin dan ormes a’r arglwyddi bonheddig, anghenraid a phosibilrwydd, gan greu cyfan organig newydd. Dyna ‘ngobaith diymod, a’m gweddi galonnog.”

 

Reit, ‘te! Wedi dweud hynny oll, wedi rhannu’r cyfrinachau budron oll, a rŵan bod y pregethu gan ein Doethur da ni wedi dod i ben – dyna hen ddigon o’r sothach ddrwm! Rhaid i mi gyfadde’ – cricsyn siriol go iawn sy’n hanner gwraig, o’r enw Jiminy dw i, ran fwya’r amser beth bynnag, un sy’n grillian “r-chep, r-chep, r-chep,” byth a hefyd. Ond, Www, un peth ola’ cyn i mi fynd i sôn efo trigolion y Seilam ‘ma am wlychu’r gwely, cyrff yn gynrhon byw, sachau ac ynddyn nhw blant, llythyrau oddi wrth feirwon, meddyliau drwg, fy agweddau i addysg, hudoliaeth o’i chymharu â gwyddoniaeth, dagrau gwaedlyd, manteision llosgi bwriadol o’i gymharu â gwenwyno, Neuadd y Dref, Sigwratau’r Nw Yrth, Saith Rhyfeddod y Ddaear, ac yn y blaen, ac ati – hyd syrffed a’r tu hwnt. Dyma ni – cofiwch chi hyn – llais callineb a rhesymoldeb dw i. Dim ond mi sy’n gwybod beth yw beth, ac yn gallu cael ‘neud pethau yn fan ‘ma, ac mae gwaith gwraig yn ddiddiwedd, yntydi? Byddwch â llygad ar eich ysgwydd amdana i, mae gen i ddisgwyl mawr o ran y dyfodol. Ro i ‘mo’r ffidil yn y to, o ran rhoi trefn ar y lle gwallgo’ ‘ma, hyd yn oed os bydd yr holl Fyd ar dân! A’m mab i fydd yn etifeddu popeth maes o law, byddwch yn sicr o ‘ny, yn hollol yn unol ag addewid yr Hen Filwr! Ond cyn hir mi hoffwn innau fynd i ymweld â'r cenawon bach ar y fferm foch, Ww, maen nhw’n giwt ar y diawl, y creaduriaid pinc rhychiog ‘na, yntydyn nhw?

 

*             *             *             *             *             *             *             *

 

[*] Mae'r prif destun yn dod o “Sgrechiadau o’r Cyrion” gan Helen Balrog Grossmann a'r rhyngosodiadau o "Swyno Meddyliau: Dulliau Ffaneronig Ansbaradigaethusi Dyfu a Thrawsffurfio" gan D B Procter MD PhD. — P.M.

 

[**] [Cyn iddo ddiflannu unwaith ac am byth, naeth D B Procter fynnu mod i’n cynnwys y canlynol yma. — P.M.] NODYN GOLYGYDDOL: Wedi fy nghyfareddu am gyfnod gan swynion byrhoedlog cerddoriaeth, gwnes ymrwymo i ddarganfod gwirioneddau mwy parhaus a dechrau astudio theoremau rhifolegol o bob math. Deuthum i goelio yn llawnder yr amser (er na allaf brofi hyn yn bendant hyd yn oed yn awr) fod yna rai gosodiadau rhifolegol na allwn ni fyth eu profi na’u datbrofi heb ddyfeisio ffyrdd hollol newydd ar feddwl. Ond, pan wnawn ni hynny, cawn ni hyd i fwy o osodiadau o’r un fath, ac felly y bydd y cylch yn parhau. Ac yn waeth, wy’n poeni na fydd yn bosibl profi yn gyffredinol fod systemau diddorol yn gyson â hwy eu hun hyd yn oed, gan ddefnyddio dulliau ar gael yn y strwythurau hyn eu hun. Ond o leiaf mae fy holl syniadau ynghylch caos, ffractalau, awtomata cellog, ac ymenyddiau artiffisial wedi dwyn ffrwythau proffidiol o ran sythweld gwirioneddau a chynhyrchu canlyniadau ymarferol ddefnyddiol, er na fedrwn ni ddangos yn ffurfiol pam y mae’r rhain yn gywir. Rwyf yn dal yn argyhoeddedig ein bod ni, fel rhywogaeth, yn gorfod gadael i’n hun gael ein trawsffurfio’n llwyr. — D.B.P.