Okay...I can't wait any longer...
I look up the steps of the temple. It is pyramid-shaped in the Meso-American style and would be at home in Chichen Itza or Tenochtitlan, and I can't imagine how such a grand site has escaped being found long ago. Yet there are no crowds of tourists anywhere nearby, no sign of recent human trespass at all.
I begin to climb the stone stairs, past the jaguar sentinels, slowly making my way upward. Looking up, I notice the air shimmering about midway up the steps, like heat shimmering against the achingly blue sky.
The higher I go, the harder it is to move. My feet feel as if they are encased in concrete, my arms feel like lead weights. The thought occurs to me that it feels like g-forces, but my rational mind dismisses that as absurd.
I come almost to a standstill, hating the thought of turning back, but unable to continue struggling against such extreme pressure. Then with my next step, I break free of the force and nearly fall from straining against something that is no longer there. I look behind me, down the pyramid, but see nothing.
As quickly as I can, I begin to climb again. At first I think the pounding sounds I hear come from my heart, beating heavily with exertion, but with every step forward I take, the sound grows louder until I can clearly hear the rhythm being played on what must be huge drums.
Just as I make it to the top of the temple, a masculine figure appears above me, draped in what can only be jaguar skins, wearing a necklace of teeth and claws. His skin is the color of red jasper, his hair like jet. He looks quite intimidating, but I feel no fear as I join him atop the ziggurat.
He does not speak and does not seem surprised to see me. I follow him to the other side of the temple and gasp as I look down on hundreds of other natives in similar garb. I look around in confusion, not remembering having read about such a demonstration. Suddenly I realize that as far as I can see, there are no signs of modern civilization. There are no tourists wandering around. The buildings in front of me are not ruins, they look whole and vital and alive. Swinging around to look behind me, I do not see the dense overgrowth of jungle from which I just came...there are plants and trees, but not the same ones through which I had emerged only a short while before...I wonder wildly where everyone else is...and where I am!
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.