Seventh Heaven, Seven Perceptions

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A whirlwind philosophical novel to challenge ingrained biases.

Open horizons.

Author: I was there to witness my mum, a believing Catholic, on her dying bed having a transformation, her subconscious drives surfacing.

“Oh, what joy for Brigid when the pastel-pink door opened. She was not alone and she had been holding on for this final communion. The brood of four sat around the bed in time to witness. Her body was limp, her voice a wisp, but the vulnerability in her eyes could speak volumes.

A lifetime of them. She was grieving and grieving is the fruit of how deeply we have loved and connected. She beheld each one in turn. Gigantic sobs were beginning to emit from the onlookers the ache of parting too huge to contain. Perhaps there was never a mother more loved.

Brigid turned the rosary beads around in her fingers, clinging, clutching, treasuring their promise of salvation, yet assenting to what was about to come.

Father, into thy hands I commend my...

But earthly words were no longer of her domain.

She felt her life force being drawn up to her eyes. And, through those eyes, she beheld a balmy light at the foot of the bed. A light that grew dazzling, fascinating, irresistibly so. And when she gazed into that light she saw a figure, a familiar figure that excited her, that inspired her.

It was her Jesus in his luminous raiments, holding out his arms to her in the most welcoming of welcomes. Lo and behold, her Lord had come. Death was a friend. She wanted to go to him. With him. On, into that hypnotising light that limns eternal bliss. Fraily, she lifted back the restraining bed covers and floated out of herself into that light of lightness.

A whiff of flowers, be it earthly or heavenly, filled her senses, because Our Lady was there too, drawing back a transparent blue-hued curtain for Bridget and Christ to pass into the resplendent phosphorence of Heaven, while her earthly family sat on weeping, wiping, choking, as if the riverbanks of their emotions had burst over-her her empty body.”

Author:

Her eyes glistened, she stared, something awesome was hovering at the foot of the bed. The Light.

This light was entrancing her because she lifted back the bed-clothes and gently turned her hand towards it breathing aloud, “JESUS,” wanting to go.

I began to wonder what other people would see in that most final of moments. Nobody was willing to discuss the concept with me so I slipped into the shoes of others, began to write and it snowballed from a village to a city to a planet.

The tale stems from the supposition that Heaven exists and that the paradise we see at the hour of our death is the fruit of our earthly conditioning combining with our vast subconscious. At a quirky pace, the tale offers romance and religion, sex and confrontation, exuberance and despair, while opening the curtains to the many cultures in our world.

The subject is ripe, juicy and nourishing for our epoch. The time has come for it to soothe, entertain and fascinate both the emotions and the mind.

Seventh Heaven, Seven Perceptions
by Maria D’Arcy

Read a movie adaptation proposal of Seventh Heaven, Seven Perceptions.

Watch a live performance of the comic Dublin Wit in Chapter 15, or a else a romantic reading from Chapter 14, The Agnostic.