It has always amazed me that so many of us forget what history is. We push forward each day in an attempt to forget what has happened. No one likes to linger on memories or the past, we’re encouraged to welcome the future with open arms. But not I, that’s not the way I follow my path through this world. Perhaps so many of us on this earth choose to forget because the memories are too painful. It’s also very easy to feel stuck when considering the past, locked into a room without a door. I will admit that sometimes, staying in the past has caused many problems for me. However, there’s a difference between holding on to the past and learning from it. Since infancy I’ve had dreams that went beyond this world. At the age of 6 I had my first and only out of body experience. I was sleeping in-between my parents on a Friday night and dreamed of being abducted. Not be aliens, but by men in all black, in a type of military gear that was also all black. We were airborne by helicopter and the night was so expansive. I can’t even try to verbalize how rich the night seemed, dense with brightly shining stars with a navy blue/black velvet coat so intense. Then, they pushed me out of the helicopter. At first I sped down through the night through gravitational force, but at some point I began to slow and fall like a feather. The feeling of supsension was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, so I let go to the feeling. But after a few seconds, I could see myself lying inbetween my parents sleeping and my soul zoomed into my body. Awaking instantly, I threw up friday night pizza everywhere. From that point on, the supernatural has always interested me.
With each year came more dreams. They were very bizarre to say the least, not things a 9 or 10, or 12 year old should think about. Eventually they registered as either memories or fictitious bouts of mental escapism. But they felt so real, they became itches on my brain I could never ease. These dreams have brought me to situations I otherwise wouldn’t know a thing about. At age 12 I was at Barnes and Noble with my sister, she left my side for a second and I encountered a couple. The man said “nice to see you again” while walking past with his lover. I still don’t know where we’d seen each other before that date. These dreams became travels for me instead of signs of a wild imagination. These dreams drew me into the arms of the studying of the occult and held my hands at night when no one else would. The old ones of our world, so many of them are forgotten. But there are some who don’t forget, who can’t forget.
It amazes me how a month can change how we relate to the earth. September is my favorite month. To me, it reminds me a woman, a mother even. In Celtic mythology, late August starts the descent of the “light” into “darkness”. The light is slayed by the darkness so that death may come to cleanse all and then lead right back into the light of spring. What’s best about this particular month for me is how I can literally feel the earth changing. It sends shivers up and down my spine, I feel the colors change and feelings of romance/solace bled into moments of bliss and loneliness. September specifically reminds me of my mother, her birthday’s home is here. For as long as my memory works, this month will always remind me of her and I’ll always smell the smoke from her cigarettes, the smell of vodka and diet coke, and the smells of mild spices cooking in red beans. I don’t know why September’s magic is so filled with romance, perhaps it’s because of the cold making all want a partner to share warmth with - wanting to find someone to share the light with against the coming dark of deepest winter.
when everything starts falling into changing colors,
before the winter comes
i hope it’s you i run into.
on the street, or at the airport, or at your car
with wide open arms, warm mouth to warm mouth,
then i sigh into sleep without noticing as the smell intoxicates my consciousness.
i hope you’re at the stairs to the deepest cathedral of my heart when i wake.