I invite you to click the music link to listen to a carefully selected medley by
Angelo Badalamenti that sets the mood very well for this vignette.
As soon as I drink the pink liquid, I fall asleep. Not one voyage of these colored liquors is the same. The Red Dream, was a massage and an opening, The Ship of White Dreams, showed me my worst fear and allowed me to become it gracefully, and The Candy- Apple Red & Blue Dream, let me see the sweet and sour of Life with no comfort blanket, muse, or guide. I awake inside the dream, and instead of the bright primary colored flags of deep red and blue of the journey just past, I feel I am covered in a thin haze and all I see around me has this same muted-pale look. I am wearing my best peach dress, as he instructed me to do, with my brand new white shoes he laid out for me as a surprise, next to the fluted crystal glass of the pink liquid. Now I look down and my dress has turned as pink as the potion that swirls inside of me, making my bloodstream carry soft rose tones to everything I perceive. This might take some getting used to, and I stay prone for a few minutes, looking down through the grates of what I assume is the sofa, or bench I am lying on. Below, the blue with pink white caps of a new sea and a grid-like structure that holds all of it loosely connected. What was the last thing he said to me? I remember now he said “Dance and be Glorious!”
I roll over as the haze begins to lift and just lie here, legs bent, as if I have woken from a summer’s nap and the wind is barely moving through this scene. Although the colors are dimmed, they are so impressive that my eyes almost overflow again. Colors are my favorite altered state and paint my potions in many varied hues. I feel an excitement rise up as to where this dream will take me. His voice now is not always in my ear, yet I do feel he is close-by, and I am enjoying the feeling of being free to decide what small details I may choose, as it seems to me, that with time exercising this skill, I might choose more wisely.
I decide to sit up and admire the new soft elegance surrounding me. There is a feeling of romance and mystery here, but no fear. I guess having his voice tell me to trust my instincts, has prepared me to take -in these altered states of worlds in stride. Each one so very different from my daily life that I call home, but he is right, each time it seems to get easier. I see a boulevard, with no people, there are almost never people in these worlds of my colored dreams, and I have considered they were constructed only for me, somehow. It sounds very self-centered, but why else would so much be created, if no one, but myself ever comes to admire them? An Artist of the highest level, has let his art flow out over the alternative lands, and one thing I am very sure, I am not that Artist, nor could I ever attempt to create what I see in these dream-states. Everything is always there, before I arrive, very different from normal dreaming, which some believe we do have a hand in creating, but even those I find difficult to believe, come from just my imagination alone. I want to experience it all here, all that he has so generously allowed me to see. I call his name out loud, asking,
“Are you here?” and he answers “Always”
I smile deep inside and feel that I am not alone, and hope never again to feel that unbearable emptiness. Just as I think of him, I feel the air shift, and I smell the odor of polished wood, there is the sound of a flute playing from a mountain-top. The scene shifts with the air, I am no longer sitting but am moving straight up a complicated wooden cylinder, climbing higher and higher. I am hovering not standing and my arms are now locked behind my head, not in a casual repose as I was on the sofa, but more like a restraint has been applied, although my wrists are not bound.
“Oh…what is happening to me?” I call out. I am hoping he will reassure me, feel his voice in my head or better yet, close to my ear, but he says nothing. I have learned over our time together, which is almost two years, that it is not when I think I want it or need it, but when he wishes to speak, he does.
Then I look up attentively, because he is speaking to me,
“Flow with it. Get up and explore where you are”
“But how can I?” My arms are tied behind my head”
I hear his smile when he says,
“No, they are not. Just lower them. You tied yourself up again.”
As always, he is right, and I can easily lower them and move around, which I do.
I hear him call me from below,”Come Down” I wave to him,”I’m coming.”
I smile in his direction lovingly,and make a promise one more time, to not paralyze myself over imagined restraints. I take a deep breath and turn towards a winding staircase that will take me down. I realize that I am very high up now, and the stairway seems to be endless.
I slowly begin my descent, while music plays in a bronzed room far below. I can imagine a roomful of elegant couples and for a second, I even imagine that he takes corporal form, and stretches out his hand and asks me for a dance. I know this will never be, but my heart skips a beat, seeing us revolving around and around in this beautiful room of deco patterns and textures. So lost in my own romantic fantasy, I almost fall off the stairs that end abruptly, quite a ways above the dance floor.
I hover over the mist for only a few seconds as I don’t seem to be able to sustain it, until I choose the freedom to free-fall into the unknown. I have been transported very high up, and I realize that what I think is mist, are really clouds, and that I am at the level of the highest mountain ridge that glows green behind me.
I am a pink dove, falling down gracefully, and just before I hit the bottom, I flip myself over and look up at the sky. I am floating down more than falling, all in slow motion. How exquisite this feels, like I am as immortal as he is and that I fear nothing and enjoy everything with passion and trusting.
I land on a cushioned divan, perhaps miles below where I first let myself fall. I feel an urge to laugh, and look around me to see if I am alone.To my shock I find myself staring into the giant face of a woman looking out at me from behind a veil, and I too am partially veiled and not sure if she is real or not. She does not move or blink and I am beginning to think she is only an image when I hear her beautiful voice speak.
“Why are you here?” She asks me in thoughts. Her voice is like the flute in the mountains and it sings like a fine reed instrument. Her tone plays in my head more than it speaks to me, but it is a very real dialogue, and I am thrilled and amazed that I have communicated once again, with a life form from another separate world. She glows pink, like my dress and the rest of the room is bronzed, even I who have seen such incredible colors am overwhelmed when I look at her, hear her thoughts and feel a sensation all over my body. I tingle in this room, of rose pastels, and the rich brown of the wood and bronze. The music that comes and goes, waltzes, flutes, symphonies and mystery themes, oh..how can all this be for only me?
She asks again,”Why are you here?”
Without hesitation I answer, “To dance and be Glorious”
I look back at her as I am caught in the updraft of a very new dance. It takes me and there is no refusing it. The music switches and changes, and I am now dancing with what I feel are hologram images of more dancers, all of them so graceful and supple, their eyes closed in ecstasy. But they too sing to me in the most beautifully high clear voices, that harmonize with the music,and I open my mind wishing to be like them even for a few short minutes, for the length of this dance. Then I am them. I sing in floating notes of pinks and bronzes and I feel what the next step will be and we are truly Glorious.
I shout, “Yes , I am Glorious” and they all echo this back to me.
“We are Glorious!” All of us sing this phrase and dance freely.
“You are Glorious” his deep voice joins the choir of our dance.
I am dancing with him! It is not corporal, but it is real, and I feel him glide past me, glide with us all. His deep voiced- tones herd our light ones into the perfect circle of sound. I am so moved my eyes roll up, and my mouth hangs open and Time stops. We dance forever and we sing our dance as I have never believed it could be done. Just as I am thinking and hoping we could stay here forever, his voice brushes my cheek and he whispers,
“It’s time to find the door home now.”
I dance, flying out the door, and the cloud of colors calls me home.
I feel a hesitancy to leave him here, but I also feel the liquid waning inside of me.
“How will you get back? ” I ask him as I am concerned he might not want to leave.
“I am already back.” he smiles. “Come!”
The colors become a churning wind and I at first, brace myself against it, but it takes me anyway, much stronger, and I release my tight grip without having to be told. It feels right. I am being carried home on a windstorm of color, and as we get further away from this land, the color begins to increase.
Turning over and over, I am the beauty of the dance and the colored wind
“Thank you” I whisper.
I twist and turn on pale pastels of lifting clouds, and I begin to grow weary and sleepy.
The colors begin to grow brighter and my body goes limp as my mind begins to fade
I lay down on the beautiful colored streams of air, and feel myself slipping back.
It’s perhaps like death, or maybe like being born, but I am powerlessly at peace
All begins to fade away, and I am inert in the smooth return from the pink and bronze journey.
I open my eyes, and am staring at the familiar dark patterns of my bed spread. I see the glass still tipped over where I left it, and I feel his presence wrap over me and hold me in silence. I realize I am falling in love with him, and I am ready to die for him if that’s what it takes to be with him forever. Then his voice admonishes me in a whisper.
“No. I show you Life. Always choose the dance over death.”
I fall into a dreamless sleep…
to be continued…
April 20, 2011
Misty Shores Linc Island SL
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