Last night, a night dream. A very large "house". So many people, coming and going. The walls, extremely tall walls were being painted by her mother and father who were in their maybe 40's. when really, they've been long dead. Her "things"…that were in the corner of one very large room had been moved for this painting and she didn't know where they were. There were many hallways leading off from the central room and they (her stuff) were somewhere, but there was comotion and no one caring really about anything, just participating kind of mindlessly in the comotion, so she kept looking, and it turned into the same building that has been in so many recurrent dreams over the years, that seems ok enough, even fine, until you go to the far edge of it to kind of a fire escape stairway and realize that it is rotting, about to implode. That it could happen at any moment…
and it goes on, no need to tell the rest. She dreams. Then wakes. 2:30, the appointed hour for waking. Lying there, looking out at those STARS. Having become accustomed to their SIZE, she lies there, watching Night.
Closing her eyes, she travels back to where she came from. This is for the first time since she left. First time, really looking at the true fact that she had gone. That she had loaded up "her" Goats, her dog, her cat, her stuff, her Self,
and left.
she realizes how she has done this before. The details different, the things she "took" different, but that she has done this before. Made a decision to change Everything, based on some deep and unknown "felt sense", and without undue plan
left.
done it again.
She rests with this thought. She then sees herself back, in the Place of Before. She is in the old metal house, its walls moving in the WIND. Her morning chair being gone, she stands. Its empty. The house is empty. OutSide….also Empty. the Goat fencing is gone. The Albatros is empty. Only the earth and it's companions, remain except for the Raft. But she had taken things from the Raft, so it, in it's way is also empty.
there is no describable way to tell of the feeling of this. It simply is. Not Good or Bad. but is. She sees what she left behind. and sees that really, it's not much. Not much to account for so many years of living. of doing. of trying. of Just going.
Not much. and there is some kind of clarity about how it IS this way, living, how we just DO and TRY and Go, every day. And it doesn't really "amount" to all that much, but that it's just so very OK. It HAPPENED.
She falls asleep and now in this day, staring out with some kind of ennui, that has prevailed since she has been here, she knows she is repeating. And how will it go this time? Her most probably, Final time?
windthread 
Leave a reply to yvette Cancel reply