by Theresa C. Gaynord
"And the veils between past , present and future shall be
lifted." EARTH, WATER, AIR, FIRE… WALK WITH ME.
She doesn’t know she’s dead!
I had tied a cord securely to one of the higher, stronger light
fixtures, making a running noose and slipping it around my neck,
kicking the chair from under my wake until I fell forward, dying of slow
It was like creeping through a tunnel where a brook must have been,
but all the water had dried up so that it was quite dark and silent. It
seemed like I was going on forever; a dismal ticket through the birth
canal before I came out crying again, blind to the world and twisted
between the stillness and silence, invisible among horrid-grinning men
and women. I had found another world in between life and death that no
one had ever remembered experiencing before. It was as if I had fallen
on a dead, cold, star - void of air and the blowing wind. I looked all
around, down and round about me, outside of myself. I felt my face
whiten and my heart still within me where I knew no peace could dwell.
As I clung between the world of consciousness and the world of matter a
huge shadow leapt from behind me, darkness flowed past me. I could
smell a fragrance, a light familiar scent drifting toward me. The scent
clung to my hair. There was a slight breeze and I felt like I was
sleepwalking, laying naked under drifting shadows. I, outside myself
watching them move. My spirit had the lightness of a bird coasting .
Realizing I had the power to draw back, to stand before the doors
that opened wide before me and not enter in, I awoke. For the first
time I could see beyond the world of shadows. The past was closed and I
could only travel onward.
The choppy waves jerked the ferry up and down creating a fine mist
which rose over the river as sprays of water mixed with the heat of the
engine. I was drawn to the contrasts and the closeness of the
low-hanging dark clouds which seemed to hover directly over me.
From his end of the bench seat on the ferry, a man who can only be
described as a vessel of black crystal filled with blood red wine, kept
shooting furtive glances in my direction. A sense of foreboding chilled
my soul and I shivered huddled inside my coat.
"You have the sight, girl. You've seen her, yes? So sad, her husband
was a good man. She was bedridden in the last stages of tuberculosis.
She only wanted to end her pain and his grief." The man knelt beside
me, kissing my hand with eyes full of tears. Then he calmly got back on
his feet and retreated from sight.
This had nothing to do with sleep loss and everything to do with the
loss felt by a death.
The ferry pulled to the dock and I caught my breath over the
enormity of the situation. The wind whipped up tangling my hair around
my face and I stumbled then stopped and turned my attention to the man
standing before me as a small crowd shifted, people staring, some
gasping with a general sense of fear emanating from their very being.
"She's dead," he said. His height separated him from everyone else,
giving him an air of authority.
The gloom of the dark clouds shadowed his eyes that night and I took
great strides in finding my way back home.
Turning to the bed where my husband was sleeping peacefully I could
see the sun coming in through the window pane.
He felt like an invisible time period in my life. As though he
happened years and years ago, maybe even before I lived and I'm just
learning now what his presence was all about. I can sense his motions
but I cannot remember his touch. I know we had plans, serious ones,
future pictures and images I wasn't used to until that hole in my life
was somehow fulfilled, fulfilled by him. We enjoyed the water under
Rubicon falls. Silence was our first language. Even between the threads
of denial, we understood. We experimented. Trusted. Hated. We were
honest. Unfaithful. Contradicting. Inside him was my safe place. He
paused my life, everyone around me; the traffic, and the noise, all
froze and he took my hand and allowed me to step out of that picture.
He and I lived on a pause far away from the world. When reality hit, it
knocked me clear over the edge where we were left standing. I fell. The
wind pushed play and I was back to the life I let go of, and he was
just welcoming the life he had yet to begin. Now, I've found him again.
New place, new time. Tell me why I am here, missing a mere dream?
© 2020 Theresa C. Gaynord
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