The Visitation
We stand there, our souls divided, desire gushing out of our slow-blinking eyes.
You haven’t come to me in this way since December 2016. Although you have visited me in other forms since then, meeting up with you in the astral plane is my favorite place to see you.
Early this morning, around 3 or 4 am, ich sehe in der Ferne, I see you in the distance, hovering in the black void, smiling, and with relaxed hair for a change. You are wearing a glowing-white, button-down shirt. Civilian clothes. Good. You reveal contentment in your pale blue eyes. A dreamy visitor from an ethereal world.
You telepathically invite me to dinner.
“It’s about time.” I silently reply with a grin on my face. Finally, a meet up without tears.
No academic fencing, no wrestling with illusions.
I’m reliving a past in Martha’s Vineyard. Nick Drake plays in the background of a cozy restaurant on a desolate November evening. I had no idea you were with me then. Is this our dinner date now, entranced by a blast from the past?
I am standing before you again, waving at you, camouflaged in the darkness, clothed in the blackest black dress.
“Gorgeous,” you say to me in your mind, taking my picture with your eyes.
I’m the mist that aimlessly drifts into the bedroom with you, then pulls me away to my studio. I see myself pushing wire through malachite beads.
Back to the darkness, determined to reach you, but stopped by an invisible wall.
We stand there, our souls divided, desire gushing out of our slow-blinking eyes. You mumble something then vanish as soon as my cat starts yowling. I am jolted back into my body and sit up on the bed without turning on the light.
My heavy heart betrays the feel-good moment of seeing you tonight. Your physical absence is a struggle. Yet eternity with you is only one dimension away.
Please visit me again soon.
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