Sea Swell

Posted on June 9, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

“The seas can be a wandering voyager…”

 Sea Swell

for Rob Steenhorst the artist

Now,
some incline to travel o’er the lands, on hooves well shod, with saddles oiled
and girth straps tight,
those graceful riders stirrups measured, find their seat and with an easy rein outstretched, prepare to cover miles by night.

And so it was a man set out to ride under the rising light, the moon’s full glow in its ascent would be his totem skyward, providing him that needed long range sight .
But moons are not the only ones, affected by the ebbs and flows of heavens fickle stride.
The seas can be a wandering voyager, drunk and reeling dangerously upon the moonshine tides.

This night passed into history, the churning river mouth washed in a swell,
flooding brackish water over Spring- high river banks and pasture lands.
The water flowed across the road, that sudden sea swell sweeping upstream everything it chanced to meet, including live stock caught, then buried in the roiling sands.

The brave and hapless rider, mounted on his gaited bay, was pulled under the surge, knocked out by rocks, a prisoner tangled in debris, held down until he drowned.
 A town woke up to tragedy, all counting heads of loved ones in the family,
and neighbors grabbed their boats and oars, while sirens wailed their sound.

The midnight horse-backed wanderer was finally carried out to sea, where it took three days for waves to send him back, that he might be buried properly.
But all say it was a miracle how those Thompson brothers in their little boat,
found his frightened bay six miles upstream paddling in the foam afloat.
The youngest finally tied him to the stern, and to their credit and their glory,
they rowed him back to safer shores,  pure-blind-luck’s survivor of this story.

Karima Hoisan
June 9, 2011
Renacer LINC Island SL

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

*please see my comment

Posted in Poems | Tagged , , , , , | 12 Comments

Part Two~The Colored Dreams~Dream Diary Entry #4

Posted on June 6, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

I invite you to listen to my reading of this chapter, over a beautiful mood weaving music track. It should hopefully add another dimension to the story for you.
Just click on the link below “Diary Entry #4″ to enjoy the mp3 recording while you read along or just look at the pictures, as if I were in your room, reading it to you out-loud
Diary Entry#4.mp3

I Wake up in a nightmare

I wake up in a nightmare dressed in an evening gown lying on top of my bed, at least I think I have just awakened. It has been almost two months now, since I entered the world of my Intimate and held him in my thoughts and heart. I am confused as a haze surrounds me, and when I focus, I see mixed into the haze, an image from the other world. The applauding hands that stay silent suspend over me and I believe I have not woken up at all, but am caught between the worlds, with no way back to either one easily. As I have learned to do, I don’t fight it, although I feel a current of fear surge through me like a fast moving surf. I see what seems to be a few little balls of light, hovering in a small group, spheres from the other side, but when I concentrate on them,  and try to take note of  details like my position, what surrounds me, they disappear, and I know it is time to close my eyes, as I am feeling drawn now to the other side. I don’t even remember going to bed tonight, and it’s almost as if I were dreaming without the benefit of going to sleep. Could this be possible? I close my eyes and count at least 30 heart-beats before I open them again.

I am at the barrier

I am at the barrier, that strange pale green wall I have come to think of as I would think of a beautifully decorated door, one that always leads me into a house of mystery, love, mystical excesses and uncertainty. I can not pass through it, and I see no sign of my Intimate, yet I think to myself, why else would I be here if he did not call me? It is obvious now to me, that the only way I can pass over, is if I am invited in. I wrap myself in the wall, and pray in my way, trying to contact him through my mind with my most fervent thoughts of wanting to see him. I close my eyes one more time, and I imagine holding the sphere that contains his amazing and beautiful life form. I allow my longing to show through my images, the longing to be reunited with him, just one more time. My whole body begins to tremble, with just the memory of what it feels like to be joined to him, in a ritual that cannot even be described, only felt and felt again and again. My obsession in these last two months, to see my Intimate and to be denied that request, has caused me suffering, and tension that has crossed over into my daily life affecting ultimately both friends and family, especially my sister Ismara.

“Please let me in…”

“Please let me in,” I say it with my voice, although when I am with my Intimate, I never use it to speak, only to gasp, and moan, and be overwhelmed. Then these sounds come out of me not as communication, but more as involuntary signals, that I am being taken so deep and so far away from what I call reality, that my mind, reverts to something more basic, than the intelligent woman I always believed I was. I am like a dumbstruck animal, who can’t help or stop the strange sounds that flow out of her. As I sit back at the wall, and try several times the method of closing my eyes and releasing all expectations, even releasing the hope that I might find myself on the other side, a glowing sphere drifts slowly towards me coming from the farthest point I can make out. It floats in silence, no humming, none of those odd singing sounds that sometimes accompany them and it pushes through the fibrous framework until it rests directly in front of me.

This is not my Intimate…

This is not my Intimate… oh I know it before it even reaches me. Why has he not come? I ask it directly  in my thoughts, I do not wait for it to enter in mine,
“Where is my Intimate? Why have you come for me instead of him?”
The sphere answers me, in strange tones, so unfamiliar, very thin and strident,
“He will not come. The one of us you call yours, that you call my Intimate, does not belong to you. You will cease to call him this name in my presence, or in the presence of the others. This is unacceptable.”
“Why? Why will he not come? Please, I beg of you, allow me to see him and to talk to him, even if it be only a few minutes.”
“No. Do not ask again.”
“Then let me go. This world holds nothing for me if I am denied seeing him.”
“That is correct,” its dissonant tone so harsh,” Our world holds nothing for you, and you are not welcome into it. But it is not so easy as you think , to just go. No, you will come with me.”

…landing on moving floors surrounded by tipping walls

 I don’t even have time to protest or blink my eyes, when all of a sudden I find myself landing on moving floors surrounded by tipping walls, it is so dizzying, I almost fall. This room, this place on their side has never been viewed by me before, not in my other journeys here. Even though everything in their world is constructed in ways I am not used to seeing, somehow all seems in order, and balance, maybe not the order I am accustomed to, but not molded in moving chaos, as I now feel I am seeing and standing upon. Something seems so wrong. I can not get any hint my Intimate is even present here, no feeling of him at all, as I stand dazed and reflecting what all this, the bringing of me here by force is all about. I’m scared. I am so scared, and worse yet, I am totally alone.

Then the sounds begin

 Then the sounds begin to shoot into my head, and I choose the word carefully, it is as if I am being shot in sound vibrations, not music, and not voice, but pitches and tones that clash as if they were fighting among themselves. It is so painful and disorienting, and even if I put my hands over my ears, there is no stopping it, as it is being bombarded at me from the inside, and not coming at me from out there. The doors and the windows are in constant motion, they seem as if they are disassembling themselves before my very eyes. The moldings lift off the floors, separate into sharp pieces and fly at me passing through me, releasing currents of pain on impact, that although last but a second, are very sharp and unpleasant. My mouth begins to protest, by wincing and gritting my teeth, and the fear of the unknown rises up into my throat and begins to choke. Whatever is going on, I say to myself, I will not give them the pleasure of showing them how terrified I now am.

thrown to the ground by an unnatural disaster

Then I am violently thrown to the ground by an unnatural disaster, as if a tornado and an earthquake joined forces and shrieked a howling moaning duet over the entire room. Then small balls, small orbs begin to buzz around my fallen frame, and each time I make an attempt to stand up, to try and find some balance, on this moving floor, that is like being on a ship on rough turbulent seas, I feel them send me back down to my knees again, and there is no way I can right myself. The adrenaline breaks the dam, and floods my entire system, heart pounding, panting breaths, sweating profusely, and the most icy fingers of fear grab hold of my courage and dig in, making it melt away, until all that is left inside of me is pure unfiltered terror.

they overpowered me

More and more begin to circle me, and they overpower me, throwing me onto my back, paralyzing me, my arms and hands and legs useless to move or defend myself, to kick or fight them off. I cry out in a desperate terrified scream
“My Intimate help me. Help me Help me.”
“Shut up. You were warned.” The chorus of orbs, devious dark feeling orbs, answer as if they were spitting the words over me, “There is no ‘my Intimate’. Nothing here belongs to you, and you do not belong here or in the thought of anyone who lives in our world. You are an intruder and you will be exorcised from us.”
“I will be what? I scream at them in my thoughts, I will be exorcised??” You all of you are the devils that need to leave me alone. I will you out of my sight. I will you all to be gone.”
There is a long silence and then in unison I feel them close to me pressing into me even into my most intimate places. One pushes into my chest, right over my heart and I feel the intention of this choice is to perhaps stop it from beating. They all begin to vibrate, humming in tones that ascend and grow louder and louder and the sound I hear them all make at once is a mocking, coarse, sneering sound of unearthly laughter.

I am raised up to my knees

I am raised up to my knees, and they continue to overpower me in disharmonious chords of laughter and chittering like the sounds electronic monkeys might make if they are attacking. The walls and floors continue to change colors, nothing is in harmony, the sounds, the sights that surround me and now the accusations that I am some kind of evil spirit that must be exorcised from them. “Oh God!.” I call out, “Save me! Please save me!” I keep trying to wake myself up, but I feel I am down so deep, there is no doing that, and a chill makes all my skin raise up as I begin to imagine what they mean by exorcising.  I try to stand again, and this time it seems I am allowed to. They seem to want me to stand.

My will is being broken and I feel them like sharks in a deep sea

 My will is being broken and I feel them like sharks in a deep sea, coming up from the bottom to tear me apart. God, where is he? Why does he allow this to happen to me? Then as I stand, my arms are pulled tightly behind my back, and I am frozen in fear and a dread, a sense of sheer agitation takes over me and I begin to sob and sob. I am at the mercy of these hostile beings, not a one feels any sympathy towards me. They act as one big bully, and synchronized mob and I feel they represent so much more than themselves, I know now the persecution is coming from the very highest level, and I have been judged and sentenced to be purged and cleansed from contaminating them or him or their world anymore.

“You Will be punished as he has already been.”

“You will be punished as he has already been.”
I hear their words as a final sentence being handed out, and now I am like a cuffed prisoner who is waiting for the decision to be declared but she is made to walk to her own execution. Even in my panic and confusion, I am not oblivious to what they just told me, “…as he has already been.” Oh my poor….”, and I don’t even think it as I know they will hear me.” Oh this is why he doesn’t come. Maybe he has been executed.” The thought stings my eyes and tears roll freely down my face.
“Oh he doesn’t come, because he doesn’t care, not because he is unable to you silly life-form, ugly thing with appendages that grab and trample everything you find.” Their thoughts are powerful and with no mercy, as they throw these words into my face.
You will be exorcised. You will no longer remember us, or him, or anything. We will mean nothing to you, as you will leave not one memory to us, and we will see you gone in our world and also soon in yours too.”
“Gone. Be Gone”
“Noooo please….” I cry out for mercy begging them to just let me go, “I promise I will never return. I will go and I will never attempt to come back.”
“LIAR!!” They hurl the bitter word at me, “It is not so easy for you who have dared to cross over to us and who have seen what is forbidden. He has erred even more than you and his punishment has been swift and just. You have been erased from any memory he ever held of you. Now we will do the same to you, as your future will be revealed.” They push me hovering above and below my bound body to a dark room and when we are all inside, they make me ascend higher and higher until my head is pressed up hard against the ceiling. I cry out,
“Stop. Stop.”
They don’t stop, but push me up even harder until, I feel the ceiling give way slightly, and my head is thrust through to the other side, which is like a floor right above this one. I am now just another orb, a round structure with hair and eyes and mouth and ears, and nose, but now I see what they have done. They have reduced me to being a sphere, limbless, with no appendages, as they say to “grab and trample everything in my path”

I am in shock

 I am in shock, and maybe they have already started to do something to me, as I feel totally immobile. My eyes can not blink and my body below the floor feels to me as if it is no longer attached, like I am decapitated here, conscious, but without benefit of the rest of me. I am numb, totally numb, and all I can do is stare out in front of me, with unblinking eyes. Then two orbs appear. Their design is so different than the others, they roll, they do not glide, and they roll within several inches of my face and then speak.
“Helmet her,” they order. “Prepare her for the sentence.” Their voices are like a booming bass duet of cold commands.
“Mute that ugly voice exit” “Helmet her now.” I feel an orb very cold and gelatinous being placed over my face, for a minute I think I will suffocate as it presses over my nose, but I still take in air, although I can not know if it goes down into my lungs or even if I still possess lungs. I feel nothing at all from below the floor.

My head is now just another orb in the floor

My head is just another orb in the floor, and the two, what I feel to be executioners, now glow and grow in size, becoming pale yellow guards one on each side of my head.
“You will be punished, purged of all memory and banished from our land.What happens to you after this, is no importance to us, but you will also suffer the consequences, for breaking the most basic rules of Creation. Solid beings and beings of airy fire, must never join together. Our worlds were meant for kinds, and you are the wrong kind.” What that one did to bring and keep you and re-bring you over and over is wrong. If you would have touched no one here, entered no one, we would look upon your infringement with more compassion, even allow you in as a sensitive observer, which is why you were let in, in the first place. However you entered into one of us, and saw what you are not allowed to see. There is no other way to right this wrong.”
I stare, eyes pinned open, watching the haze grow brighter and brighter.There are no tears, no cries, no protests, now not even any thoughts. I try to hold the sensation of him in my mind, not scenes, not memories, the feeling of love that he allowed me to feel. Will I die now for this sin? I surrender and think only these words, “So be it”

All begins to grow fainter and lighter

 All begins to grow fainter and lighter and I feel I am dying or being put under an anesthetic, and soon will lose the little bit of consciousness that I cling to. I know now they have already done the same thing to him, and this thought makes it all easier somehow, because now I feel I don’t care. There is only one regret I have and that is that I never had a chance to say goodbye properly to Ismara. I never told her of this, because I was so afraid that she might be sucked in too. I know they are monitoring each thought and I now let them see my concern about my sweet twin sister, who has shared my love with me, and who no one in my world, ever came closer, or knew me better and more honestly than her. They answer me. They answer me with their thoughts,
“We do not injure those who respect the barrier.” If she stays on her side, she has nothing to fear.”
“Be purged and be gone.” They all repeat this over and over until I slip away.

I find I am not dead but waking up in the driver’s seat of my car

I find I am not dead, but waking up in the drivers seat of my car, the music plays on my radio, a tune I am familiar with, one I play over and over. All is still so hazy, and I am not sure how long I have been dreaming. This dream seems very unclear, as most dreams do, but I decide to see where it is taking me. I am not afraid.

Small little  colorful balls are hovering

Small little colorful balls are hovering and I think, “these balls remind me of something, something else, something more than a game.” They seem to be harmless, but for some reason float in my car, and my car is not on any highway I remember, but rather on planes of shifting scenery, and so many sounds of life as I know it, from  dogs barking to rain falling, even claps of thunder overhead. I see myself as if I have a camera that revolves and zooms in and out, but I am not really watching the road, and for a minute I try to concentrate and do that.

I look down and I am holding a large soft green ball

I look down and I am holding a large soft green ball in my outstretched hands. I don’t even have them on the wheel but seem to hold in my grasp almost desperately this sphere that looks a bit like a sealed fish bowl with no way to put in a fish. Then all of a sudden I am overcome with the deepest feelings of sadness, and of trying desperately to remember something I have forgotten. I get so close… I almost grasp it, but then it is robbed from me, snatched away just when I think I have it. I feel so utterly alone, and the tears flow out of my eyes in a stinging river of desolation and despair. I drive, sobbing, the rain hitting the windshield blocking my view, the hum of the engine, the wipers beating their rhythm, I drive on blindly, knowing that I can not stop this dream.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry”

 “I’m so sorry. I am so sorry.” I don’t even know why, but I suddenly feel it…so sorry.

truck in my lane..in the rain

The tears run down my face, the downpour washes away the visibility on my windshield, and with all of this, there is suddenly looming up ahead, quickly , silently,
a truck in my lane…in the rain heading right into me.
“Oh God please no!”

heading into the headlights

I try to grab the wheel, but the sphere I hold seems some how attached to me, and I can’t let it go. I am heading into the headlights of the oncoming truck, and I see there is no way to escape it.

At almost the last minute I try to duck down

At almost the last minute, I try to duck down, maybe a last -second desperate attempt to not go through the windshield, but it seems I am glued into this upright position. My arms and legs are not responding to my terrified pleading to get down..”Get down, get down, get down” I hear my voice, but also too I hear another over it. Oh whose voice can that be? It is like an angel inside of me and it begs me to “get down.” I am powerless to move, powerless to stop this accident and I face it head on.

This is my death, so be it…

This is my death, so be it… and at the last moment I am finally able to shut my eyes.

I am thrown out of the car

I am thrown out of the car, and all I hear is the sound of wrenching metal, broken glass, and my own screaming, as the car falls on top of me. The class bowl in my hands breaks into a million pieces, and the pieces pierce me and I feel a heat enter me and hide deep down inside of me.

 Is this my dream within a dream and I am dying?

Is this my dream within a dream and I am dying?

No , I am hanging in mid-air

I am hanging in mid-air and the accident is now a fading memory. I know I am still dreaming as this is no place in reality I have ever seen before. I feel no pain, and I feel no fear, just being carried from one dream to the next, semi-lucid, semi -detached, but now with a new sense that I am not alone, even though I seem to be completely on my own

I have been marked by a red hand

I have been marked by a red hand, that looks as it it were dipped in paint and pressed upon me as some sort of sign, or message. I struggle with the control of my arms, and legs,  and they feel like they don’t even belong to my body. Sometimes they move in spite of me, and sometimes simply do not obey me.

I am in the strangest landscape

I am in the strangest landscape, with that odd feeling, I have seen this before in another dream, but I am tied somehow and not free to move around, or just get up and leave. I wait patiently numb, enjoying the peace and silence of this scene, so different from the one I just  dreamed before..the accident on a rainy night- time highway

I want to end it now. Let me end it

“I want to end it now, let me end it.” I say it aloud, my head hanging upside down.
“I want to wake. I will wake up now. Please let me wake up now.”

A wall of hands

 A wall of hands blocks my way, as I stand. I can not move in this direction, so I slowly sit down and try to understand what I am supposed to do, to get out of this dream.

I close my eyes

I close my eyes and I count many heart-beats. I feel so exhausted, and the dream of the accident,  with the truck on the rainy highway, seems like something I dreamed before a long time ago, but there is the most nagging thought, that I am forgetting something very important, perhaps leaving it behind me, something I must try to remember.

I am back  in my bed still covered in the dream

I am back in my bed, still covered in the dream, and I am looking at myself from the ceiling, seeing that this is how my dream began, the first part very hard to remember, and when I think about writing it down, I know I should wait until morning. I must remember what I have forgotten. This was a nightmare, a very confusing nightmare, maybe because I had stayed out too late and fallen asleep on top of the bed in my clothes after they brought me home from the party. I must have gotten that hand stain there. I don’t remember seeing it until now when I was waking up. “Wow what a wild party it turned out to be after all” I say confused and smiling weakly.

I know that I am keeping a dream diary

 I know that I am keeping a dream diary, or at least I was a few months back. This dream sure seems like it might be a good one to write down. I make a promise to myself  to do that in the morning. I will read all my dreams over and try to make some sort of sense out of what I just lived through in this night of dreams that began by waking into other dreams and then into others…how many layers are there in reality?  As I lie on my bed, the dream slowly fading above me, I have this strange memory or vision that there are infinite beds, with infinite girls like myself, arms stretched out wide, that we are only changing textures. We are only changing textures… on puzzle pieces that click into place, forming the fabric of the entire picture. As many as can be imagined above and as many as can be imagined below and somehow these all have to do with the deepest way of loving. I am feeling the most profound love well up from inside of me, and I hold it in my heart where I am sure if I let myself continue to feel it, my heart just might swell until it bursts.

to be continued…

Karima Hoisan
June 5, 2011
Renacer Linc Island SL

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

*Please see my comment on the whole series “The Colored Dreams”

 

Posted in Prose Vignettes, The Colored Dreams | Tagged , , , , , | 15 Comments

The little World Of DOUGIE Flossberg

Posted on June 1, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

Come One Come All The SLmRR is now open

Last week my railway buddy and favorite ghoul DOUGIE Flossberg sent me this poster announcing the opening of his miniature city on Thyris, complete with railway and airport, traffic, and bombs. I met DOUGIE not very long ago, March of this year, and have written several blog posts on him, because he is a very interesting Mainland character and creative avatar. See: Private Guided Rally On  The SLRR,
 Come Josephine in My Flying Machine and in this post, he is one of the Wizards.

I landed here and surveyed my surroundings

I landed on The SLmRR on Thyris and surveyed the surroundings. At first it takes a little while to get a perspective of size, and not until I walked around did I begin to feel the scale. I am going to let the pictures do the talking as I really think it’s worth going there and seeing it for yourself.

I was captivated by all the little details

I was captivated by all the little details, and transport was hopping on land, on sea and in the air

King Kong is an obvious presence

King Kong is a presence that is hard to over- look, and brings you back down quickly if you were starting to feel big and powerful in this miniature city. I crossed the tarmac and took a closer look at the canal he seemed to be protecting quite doggedly.

Hanging around on the hangar

Hanging around on the hangar in a cloud burst I suddenly got the feeling that I wished I could hitch a ride on one of the numerous take-offs that were making the runway buzz and shake. The sounds everywhere are just great by the way, and add to the feeling of being in a city.

Sometime wishes do come true

Sometimes wishes do come true and I successfully hitched a ride on a small commercial liner, which took me as far as the sim crossing. I felt the roar of the engines, and the blast of air made my curls fly on lift-off. What a rush!!

I had to slap my hand to not pull my own Kong Kong impersonation

I had to slap my hand to not pull my own King Kong impersonation, and take that little police car off the highway and swing it around a few times and toss it. I bet that would surprise the men inside no end, but honestly being bigger than most anything, can put some crazy ideas in your head.

Then I went to sit on the Big Guy's shoulder

Then I went to sit on the Big Guy’s shoulder. I know he prefers blondes, but I told him a little story that kept his interest high and his desire to eat me or maim me quite low. We bonded in our own special way, two entities too big for their habitat, and in this little city I felt he and I had more in common than anything else here. It was an experience I will always remember.

Yikes!

Yikes! When I jumped off of King Kong, I landed badly on top of a busy overpass and was about to get my knees burnt on the vertical pipes of a sixteen-wheeler.. The traffic was so heavy I wasn’t sure how to get off without getting my shins skinned. With planes taking off, and ships heading out to sea, there was a lot to look at while I figured how to remove myself from the freeway a bit more gracefully than I landed.

They were coming at me right and left

They were coming right and left at me, and finally a police car passed under me and blew his loud speaker which to me sounded like a loud squeaker and said “Get off the road lady.” He sounded like a hoarse mouse on a megaphone, but I got the message and jumped.

It was a good thing too...

It was a good thing too because the special effects truck from Flossberg Studios was weaving back and forth, a driver under the influence no doubt, and might have stubbed both my big toes at once. The skyline glowed and the rain clouds poured. Quite a little world here indeed.

"Oh Oh", I thought,"Better take cover King Kong."

“Oh Oh,” I thought,”Better take cover King Kong.” I had a funny feeling those fighter jets were about to make a big loop back over to his direction. After all… I had seen the movie.

Who might that be coming down the track?

Who might that be coming down the track? Well at first glimpse from far away I thought it was an escaped prisoner, in a retro prison outfit, riding on top of the coach car, making his get-away on the urban railway line.

DOUGIE FLossberg Creator of The SLmRR

Well to my surprise,*smiles, it was the one and only DOUGIE Flossberg, creator of this fabulous city in miniature and the SLmRR. I told him how much I loved his city and was even hoping to move my company here and hire a bunch of mini-workers to run it. He generously offered me a building and now I can proudly claim residency here on Thyris. Moments like this are why I suggest all you region dwellers, take a chance and get off your islands and re-discover the Mainlnd! Wonderful sites and wonderful people to explore. It’s a small world too….

Hoisan Publications

Hoisan Publications on Thyris… I take a deep sigh and feel pride rise as I lovingly caress the roof. Come see it Soon!!  Here is your taxi to take you to

The SLmRR

Posted in Slices of Second Life | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Part Two~The Colored Dreams~Dream Diary Entry # 3

Posted on May 29, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

I invite you to listen to my reading of this chapter, over a beautiful mood adding music track. It should hopefully add another dimension to the story for you.
Just click on the link below “Diary Entry #3” to enjoy the mp3 recording while you read along or just look at the pictures, as if I were in your room, reading it to you out-loud (Diary Entry # 3 mp3 recording)

Another night of battling with insomnia

Another night of battling with insomnia and I am lying on top of my bed, as if crucified by my over- active nervous system, that won’t allow me to find sleep. Tonight is the third night I feel this agitation, and also I must admit a growing sense of depression and doubt. I think perhaps I am wrong about some things I felt I knew only a week ago. I can not enter into the other world. It is as if I am locked out, and I am not sure who or what has slammed that door, but closed it remains to me night after night. I also am not sure I am right about not including Ismara in this now. If the world does exist, each day I don’t see it, makes it a hazy reality, at best a pale memory, that loses credibility even with me, so how can I drag my poor sister who I love and would protect even  to die for her,into something I don’t have any idea about? I sometimes think I am going mad, and if that is the case, I must at all costs, hide it from her too. I am judge,  jury, defendant and prosecutor and my nightly courtroom dramas rob me of my sleep and any chance at all to be invited back into the portal that is a light green wall that shifts and pulsates between our world and theirs.

Finally after tossing and turning, I fall into a deep sleep

Finally after tossing and turning, I fall into a deep sleep. When I begin to be aware I am dreaming, I am still not really sure I am in “that dream” the one that is a life and a  real world, not a fantasy of my own mind’s making. I feel skeptical at first, as nothing is exactly as it was before. I even try closing my eyes, and taking a few deep breaths, so that I may open them and find I have now safely crossed over, but when I open them, I am still where I was, a place of bright yellow and green rods of color that are foreign to me and give me no idea where I am. Is this the Dream that is a Life? It feels more like my own subconscious inventing a regular dream, and a deep feeling of disappointment begins to take me over. Another night it seems, without my Intimate to guide and coax and teach and love me.

This way back in seems so different at first

This way back seems so different at first, that I stay poised where I am listening, feeling, observing how the images I see are behaving. Do they fade into others? No, they remain solid. Do they change if I stare at one spot too long? No, they do not. My heart begins to quicken with the thought that I am in his world, and that yes, if I stay calm and lucid I will see him. I will be with him tonight. I try to see through the barrier that is much more dense, and makes me think I am in some other part of this world, a part I have never yet visited. I am in my pajamas still, I look down , hoping to see I am dressed in an evening gown, but no, I am dressed for bed, in a world that might still be this one, what we call the real world, or maybe the real world is moving away quickly as I approach what could be the cross over point. I try again. I close my eyes and I extend my arms through the thick foliage of stems and tubes, half organic and half something else.This world, and what holds me in awe about it, is that it has different rules that govern it. The basic building blocks could not survive in our world. He tried to show me a little tiny glimpse into how different, and I crumbled like a mouse terrified, quaking and unable to look more. I close my eyes, and wait counting the beats of my heart, before I dare to open them again. When I do, I am on the move, like a low prowling cat, or a vehicle that effortlessly is pushing through the twisted forest of this land, and I feel a cool gelatine feeling of a sphere in my hand, and I dare not even look at it, I know now…I am in. I am in his world, and I am being taken to him, or this I hope.

I crouch below rows of strange glass beetles

I crouch below rows of strange green glass beetles, fibrous tubes of organic textures that give off a pungent perfume. I am sailing below the impasse, and I am yet to be in the clothes that are always chosen for me. I am running effortlessly, as if I weigh nothing, my feet barley touching the ground. My running suit is my pajamas and the little ball, which I am not sure even has the power of language, pulls me along as it rests on top of my open palm. It pulls me though places that my eyes say can not be traversed, yet we never lose speed, or have to halt. Then all of a sudden we do. We come to a complete stop.

Will you take me to see my Intimate?

“Will you take me to see my Intimate?” I hold the globe close to my face, and I speak to it as if I were speaking to a child who did not speak my language, enunciating carefully each word, taking my time. Perhaps this ball does not know the name of the one who has chosen me as his, who has me call him “my Intimate” Perhaps this term is for me alone, and not generally used or known about all over this world. Before I can ask again, it replies
” Mine, I am your Intimate. Do you now not recognize me? Has this little bit of time passed erased me from your mind?
I am shocked, and at the same time, elated so giddily I can’t help smiling and I let out a small laugh,and press him to my lips, kissing him several times, rubbing him against my cheek, fitting him into the curve of my throat, where I feel him grow warmer.
“Forgive me I did not recognize you. I have waited and waited to see you, lost nights of sleep, robbing myself of the chance to crossover and call your name. Oh my Intimate, I have missed you so much, I was doubting my own sanity.

“Dress yourself for me and cross over. I will be waiting.”

“Dress yourself for me and cross over. I will be waiting.” He disappears from my hand and a cold shiver runs through me, my knees almost buckling. “How can this be?” I think to myself, “He has crossed over to my side. He had never seen me in my pajamas, I am always dressed, before I am placed in his presence. Does he now have that power? If he crosses over into my normal dreams, could he not cross into my waking life? Would I welcome this crossing, or would I be filled with fear?  Ismara? What about Ismara? Am I putting her in danger if I continue this.?” I am on a threshold, as I look down and see somehow I have gotten myself dressed, in the same elegant style always chosen for me, an evening gown of the palest green, matching shoes, some jewelry, and I am climbing the wall, hanging off of it like a fly, unsure what is the best thing to do. I see I have yet to pass to the other-side, and if I hesitate too much I might find myself suddenly there, in the same way I see I have become dressed in only a blink. My mind is made up by him, by what he says to me,
“Let yourself fall backwards through the barrier. Close your eyes. I will catch you.”

I don’t hesitate but do a swan-dive and find myself on the other side.

I don’t hesitate but do a swan-dive and find myself on the other side, falling on my back, head downwards, floating to the ground.
“Hold out your hands and catch me,” he says.
I do, and as soon as they are outstretched, he lands gently on them, like a warm liquid ball come to bathe my palms in the most sensual heat. It can not be described, only felt, and I am filled with the feeling of belonging to him and to his world. I am ashamed now I thought these negative thoughts and fears. If he wants to cross over into my real life, I will help him. I could never refuse him that. We fall past webbed nets, wall panels of reeds and frames, then descend below the level of the applauding hands, that remain clenched,  not giving any ovations or synchronized applause. Oh how I love this landscape, this other place that now feels a bit like a homecoming, each time I pass through the parallel frontier. I look up into him and I see my own face reflected, and I smile and I feel him smile. How can I do this? There is no way to explain, and I imagine my sister thinking I am totally mad, making some sort of remark like, “Oh I saw this really nice looking beach-ball you might like to go out with” I am in love with a globe. Who could understand that?

As I gently land, he whirls inside his sphere and I reach out to hold him tighter

As I gently land, he whirls inside his sphere and I reach out to hold him tighter. The only way I could explain it to Ismara or to anyone, would be to say, that when one sees an image far away, coming closer, and it looks tiny like a small doll coming your way, if you know because everything tells you, this is not a little stranger, but your lover, who when he arrives will be his own size, you do not hesitate to believe he is inside that tiny figure moving in your direction. It does not look like him, but your heart begins to flutter for what you know is inside. Our perceptions are so relative. There is a soul inside, that lives in a body which is its casing, like my Intimate lives inside spheres but yet is so much more than his housing suggests. I am reminded of how foolish I have been in the past, to notice more the case then the music played by the instrument when it is freed. When the instrument has been taken out of the case, this is the part that thrills me, because I know the notes that will be played, can bring me tears of ecstasy moving me beyond myself. The case is just that, a case, a closet, a shell, a body that holds the instrument, that when it is being true to its nature plays the most haunting and beautiful songs. I love the songs, I don’t love the case. I feel surging in me the greatest desire for him to know I know how very special our love is.
“I know.” He says in my thoughts, “I know how unique and impossible we are.”
He settles against my throat, and feels once again cool, “Mine, I will taste a little more of you. Please do not resist. While this moment lives, I take what is mine. I take you”

“Mine I have missed you”

 “Mine I have missed you” He coos and the globe, vibrates, and hums, I almost hear a chorus of voices inside, singing. I reach out to touch him, to show him I too have missed him, but he pulls my arms back again and says gently, “Don’t. Do nothing. Leave your arms outstretched, you are mine and I will know you more and more. This is my pleasure. Do not resist, or it could feel very frightening to you.

“My Intimate I  am afraid.”

 “My Intimate I am afraid.”
“No, there is no reason to be. Does not your heart tell you this is love? Are you afraid of love? If you love me, give yourself to me, let me know you, all of you, every memory, every fear, every lie, every false step, not to judge you, but to love you more. Do you think I will love you less?
“Yes” I say, “I think you will love me less.”
“Well this night will let us know who is right. I am going to enter you. Be empty for me, and welcome me to come inside”

“I will heal you of that fear”

 “I will heal you of that fear”
At the moment he says these words, I feel an incredible state begin to come over me, at the same time I am being emptied of my fears, my doubts, my reactions, my  weakness, and my anxieties, at the very same time, all of this is leaving, like little puffs of air, that blow out of my mouth, through my barely parted lips. I now feel him filling me up with his presence, that opens, doors of past memories, so many memories, and my body trembles with the weight of him inside of me, yet the final feeling is of ecstatic peacefulness. I let my body go limp, not one muscle tenses, and I feel him opening doors, as he walks through me. I know he sees everything, and I too begin to see scenes, I don’t even remember, yet I know they are from my life.
He whispers from inside of me, his voice and mine one,”I love this life and all the mysteries”

“Ohh Ohh Ohh”

 “Ohh Ohh Ohh” It’s all I can say, and I don’t think the words have been invented yet in our poor language for the feeling that passes over me, through me, but in one moment I see the very structure of  existence, the life and death, the dark and light of it, the birth and death of it, and all is reduced to spheres. From the largest gaseous sun to the smallest atom, all are in the shape of my lover. All of these spheres from the biggest to the smallest carry me, suspend me as he glides from door to door opening me, looking at me, and glowing, I laugh and tears flow. I am in awe, that state of coming up against too much to comprehend yet somehow our poor minds try for a second and then when they give up trying, before they explode, that moment of surrender is what I am feeling, the awe to know I am alive, and I am part of this creation.  All those little spheres, whirling and spinning inside of me, but all that comes out of my mouth is, “Oh god…Ohh!” I wish to be held here in this moment, I wish to never ever leave it, or to feel myself without him inside of me.

 He glows and I glow and we are one

  He glows and I glow and we are one. My body, my mind still reverberating, shaking, and I can’t stop smiling, I can’t stop loving, it shakes my body like a true moment of rapture and I feel how satisfied he is and I feel my own body as if we were two ignited mortals, who have just finished making love in the most profound, passionate way. I know now he has seen me, in a way no one else will ever see me.
“My Intimate, how I love you.” I moan these words like a cello’s prolonged note, and I raise him and bring him back to my lips and raise him again, over and over. You have seen all of me, all of me is yours, all of me is yours.”
“Do I love you less or more now?” His voice reclines in my mind, a soft over-lay on my own.
“You love me more and I too, I too love you beyond what I thought love could do.”

He grows larger and the heat lights up my hands, then my forearms

He grows larger and the heat lights up my hands, then my forearms, I feel him strain against the ball, until it gives and swells,
“Now you will come into me. You will my world, and we will truly be together. It is not fair, that I know all of you, without you knowing all of me.”
“But I couldn’t stand it last time, please it was too much for me. I will die inside of you.”
His voice smiles,”Do you think death is so bad? You are not prepared to trade it to come inside of me, live in me? Is this not for you a worthy trade? If you realized death is only a door, situated on the top of a circle, you would walk through it and keep walking around it, and we would be together forever? Will you not trust me and die for me?”
“I wish to be so brave, I want to. I want to.” I begin to cry softly as his words, and my own inadequacies fill me with such turmoil, after having felt such peace.”
“Stop,” he says. “Be empty and fill me. Be empty and see me. Do not fear.”

“Don’t be afraid, submerge in me”

 “Don’t be afraid, submerge in me”
My hands lower him slowly over my face, and a sigh of acceptance pours from my lips. If this is to be my death, what a mystical one indeed. I will drown in him willingly.

He covers my face and I begin to see everything through his eyes

 He covers my face and I began to see everything through his eyes, and really there is no explanation, perhaps only short cries of realization that leave my lips, little one- word gasps that push out of me involuntarily. This is not death, and I know I will not die, but I also know my mind, will never be the same for seeing what he allows me to see. I look into him, I see everything as if it were a fabric made of many millions of puzzle pieces, stretched out on a grid suspended in space. Each puzzle piece has a texture, a face and there are an infinite number of fabrics. that move in synchronization. My eyes float through one and the other, and every gesture, every facial  expression these pieces make, these human and non human forms, they do it the same. If one raises her hand, layer and layers above and below this piece, raise their hands too, some are female, some are male, some are inanimate, maybe a tree branch, maybe a wave, but all move together, all at the same time. I think each stretched fabric puzzle is a world, I think my world is only one in this infinite number and I see smiles, and laughter, and I see confusion and doubt, and building after building, structures all textured differently on the same spot where each piece goes, but the amazing thing I do see, that I hope to be able to put into words, is how all these fabrics are connected and woven together by only one brilliant artist and planner, who has given these textures life, breathed movement, longing, and purpose into every single one of the pieces.
“Ohhhhh”

I smile and I smile “Yes I understand, oh I do now”

 I smile and I smile, “Yes I understand, oh I do now.” Tears wash my eyes, and each tear helps me to see deeper, “Thank you…. thank you.”

I see my face enclosed as if I were a painting or an icon

 I see my face enclosed as if I were a painting or an icon, or an etching on glass and it could be from any time, and I am inertly at peace. Trust radiates from my eyes. Then I go through this image to the layers so many layers beneath me.

I see the past and the future and all these layers hold up their hands

I see the past and the future and all these layers hold up their hands. He speaks in my mind,
“Go deep with me mine,” and I do, I go deeper, and deeper, until I no longer know which face is now, my world, my place, but truly not any of this matters. I am inside of him where there is no insecurity, and I feel protected to drop down further and further.  This movement inside of him, is timeless and forever bonding, as if we had just committed to our love in a very formal way,a way that nothing can destroy or change, not even us, or anything in either of our worlds.

Then I close my eyes and when I open them, I feel he is leading me back

Then I close my eyes and when I open them, I feel he is leading me back. I am in a room with coiled serpents hanging as wall decorations,and he is lifting my foot, I feel the heat rise up into my body, from this foot. He and the sensation climb slowly up me, up my thigh, and into my lower belly. I do not see the snakes as something to fear, I feel them as something to touch, to admire their sinuous forms, so different from own. Are they not just another texture on some of the puzzle pieces, that make up our floating changing fabric? The heat of my Intimate makes me swoon again, as he crawls slowly up to my chest and there he glows and blands his shape until I reach around  him and pull his form into me. Half of him enters my chest, in a feeling of electricity that jolts my heart until I can barely stand it, so pleasurable, beyond my pale description. I shake and my breathing is heavily full of him.

“I am growing stronger in you…”

“I am growing stronger in you, every time I feel you I grow stronger,” he says to me.
“I think I could almost pass over to your side, but instead of you, inside of you, not in my sphere, that is not compatible to your world. It will not survive the crossing of the barrier, but I have hope, I’m filled with it now actually, that you could serve as my vessel.” He glows now half inside my chest heating it in waves, “You are my vessel. I am not strong enough yet, but I think I will be soon. Mine, will you serve me in this way? When we have crossed over, I will need another vessel to hold me. You will have to have that ready. Will you do this for me, for us? As we are now, we will not be able to continue. There are forces and laws here, that will begin to try to impede us. I did not want to worry you. If you sense that all in your world would not understand what you do with me, believe me, it is very similar here too. Our Creator created us separate, not to be joined. This is something we both must know. There could and most likely will be hard consequences to our being together, but tonight I feel hope that you will be strong enough to do what will be needed to be done.”

I pull him inside of me

 I pull him inside of me, “I will do whatever I must do. I fear losing you more than I fear death.”
“We will part here mine. Wait for me to call you and do not despair if it is not immediately. I will choose the moment, that will be safe for both of us. Hold me inside of you. Press me all the way in.  At the barrier, I will leave you, but every minute, know that you live in me as I believe I also live in you. Never doubt the reality of what we have done. This is our reality we create with each second we are together.”

I begin my climb back

 I begin my climb back, filled still with his warmth, and I hold myself back from any doubts or thinking too much about the details of what we are planning on doing, as I know he hears every thought as if it were his own, and it seems he decides to do the same, for now we climb up the wall, both in wordless silence.
“I will leave you here,” he whispers  from inside my chest, making my breasts heave with the vibration of his thought, “Close your eyes, and count to three then open them.
Goodbye beautiful mine.”

One…two…three

 One… two… three…
I am awake and back in my room. I sit up quickly and reach for my diary, but I am not ready to even write this down. My head reels, and it aches, and there is no way of reconciling the joy and the fear I feel all at the same time. I decide to lie back down, and try to remember only the joy. He filled me with love, with hope and with fear, all in one night with him. I hear Ismara stirring in her room. Oh Ismara, I must protect her at all costs, from anything that could go wrong, because of my decision to break the very laws of Nature and the Universe, to love the one who loves me. May the One who created it all, forgive us if we are wrong, and protect the innocent who are too close to us.

to be continued…

Karima Hoisan
May 29, 2011
Renacer Linc Island Sl
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.


*Please see my comment for a complete list of all the posts in order of “The Colored Dreams.” If you enjoyed this one, it is the fifth post of Part Two.  There is Part One that Contains six posts and it will all make a lot more sense if read from the beginning of the story.

 

 

 

 

Posted in Prose Vignettes, The Colored Dreams | Tagged , , , , | 14 Comments

Breezes of Change Blow In Gently

Posted on May 26, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

Well, here is a somewhat different post from me today, a change from the poetry, and colorful parallel worlds and mystical love in a diary, that I have been dedicating this blog to recently.
As my friend Chrome Underwood says, “It’s always good to take a little break.”
I have lived on LINC Island (LINC stands for Life Is Not Complicated) in SL from the first day I entered Second Life at the end of 2007 and fell from Avatar Island into the world below. I have also lived on other sims too, but this was always my home base, and a little over a year ago, the owner just gave it to me one day and left SL for good. It has always been a public place, for romance, and beauty, sculptures, and art, and just a pretty nice little sim to visit with a friend. The main landing point was built in 2009 and was called “Misty Shores Memorial to Love and Beauty” That is what it was too, slow dances, fog, a dark Gothic gazebo to steal a kiss in, waves crashing and moaning against a rocky coastline. The sim was almost virtually unchanged since then.

Misty Shores Memorial To Love and Beauty

But in this virtual world, as in the big real one too, things change, and when they do we always hope that at least it will be for the better. I was struggling with keeping my island all on my own, as my other SL family members who were here with me,  from the beginning,began to leave, until I was the only one left. Many times we must swallow our aesthetic tastes, and for the sake of paying the rent watch a parking lot or a gaudy Mall go up next door on an adjoining parcel we just rented out, and I was already prepared psychologically for that event too.  I was spared this disaster by the greatest of good luck, in the form of a new friend, Happiness Merryman, who offered to take over half of it and do a joint project together with me. How much fun it is when two people have the same basic vision, yet each puts in their own seasoning to a delicious stew, that while still on the fire cooking (still under construction) is smelling very tasty indeed. The original Misty Shores has gone from darkly romantic to gloriously colorfully romantic, and at Midnight setting, it is ethereal and beautiful. We renamed it “Campo de Colores” “field or countryside of colors”.

Campo de Colores

We still have a lot to do, but it’s very much open to the public, while we keep working on it. There is a teleport system at the landing point that will take you to many of the older and unchanged original parcels on Linc Island like Kari’s Kantina del Mar( a seaside Bolero Bar) Renacer Sculpture Garden, The Cloud Forest, The Octopus Garden( a romantic undersea spot), Kari’s Pond of Peace,(a frog filled crickety night at the pond) and now Happiness is putting out drum circles, lots of cozy fire spots, and opening the sim up to light and color, romance, peace and meditation. I will include a few pictures below of different points of interest.

Renacer Sculpture Garden

You can still find some of the favorite sculptures of Scottius Polke too at the Renacer Sculpture Gardens and on the path leading there stop and play at the Drum Circle, or enjoy the Peacocks, great sounds of Nature and cuddles or meditate awhile at “Virtual Environments”

Virtual Environments

The Cloud Forest, has cozy spots to lay and enjoy, tables on a foggy bridge to drink coffee, a dance ball and the original Gothic Gazebo is now up here, so there is still that kiss to be robbed if you are so inclined  *smiles

The Cloud Forest

Take a chance and throw yourself off the Flying platform by jumping on  the Omega Star Dance ball, which holds 5 at a time and gives an amazing feeling of soaring and flying. It will dip you down under the water too, so keep your eyes open for the humpback whale.

Omega Flying Ball

The Octopus Garden, so named because it has several of them floating peacefully, at times aggressively, around the garden. It is the home of the humpback whale and my submarine abode which is open to the public as well. Blankets and places to explore, and cuddle, and of course the dance ball is fully water proof too.

The Octopus Garden

Kari’s Pond of Peace, where you can sit cozily and be serenaded by more than 15 types of toads and frogs and when you least expect it, you might be caught in a frog shower.(compliments of Menubar Memorial)

Kari's Pond of Peace

Below is the Bolero Bar where I hold a poetry reading on stream once a month, and the rest of the time, it has the greatest Spanish Bolero Stream, and a very well equipped bar and romantic Dance Ball, with little tables seaside.

Kari's Kantina del Mar

I will include a few more spots still being worked on, but all open for you to come and spend a relaxing time. SL for me and for Happiness, is about creating and collaborating and of course sharing the final product with anyone who lands on our island. So you are all most welcome to visit anywhere on the sim, and enjoy the fruits of this creative cooperation.

Happiness's Spot of Tranquility

Happiness's Spots of Tranquility

I will conclude this post, which by the way, is the first I have ever written specifically about the island I have called home for going on 4 years, with an invitation to visit us. The winds of change came in like a gentle breeze off the ocean, and transformed an island of romance, beauty, and art into another very beautiful version of itself. When you land at Campo de Colores Please pick up a free”Flower Float” which is an ingenious little vehicle, where you sit in a lotus position, and just hover over the ground, a fun and smooth way to explore the whole island. A special thanks to Nikita Weymann of Grimalkin Workshop for inventing this very elegant form of travel. Visit her shop and you will see you absolutely “need” to buy something. She has made things, no one has even imagined yet.

Please click a flower float as a gift, wear it and take off to explore

Float hovering through fields of Color

A special thanks to DB Bailey for the gift of a whole flock of his very colorful and oddly beautiful glass birds that now roam and decorate the fields.
Finally, I include one last picture, that Happiness took in one of the beautiful Glyph Graves Particle Sculptures. She is demonstrating the kiss balls in the center, which I find work much nicer if you have someone on the blue ball too, someone you really care about *winks at Happiness.

Campo de Colores with Happiness

Come Visit Us Soon. Campo de Colores LINC Island

Posted in Announcements, General Discussion, Slices of Second Life | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

Sand Pit

Posted on May 23, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

A hazy morning, wood smoke, blooming flowers in the summer air..."

 Sand Pit

for Rob Steenhorst the artist
~*~
A hazy morning, wood smoke with blooming flowers in the summer air,
The village wakes to breakfast, and warm chatter about local gossip and the news.
Two loyal subjects, dressed for work, prepare themselves to toil and to bear,
The Royal King of Swine is to be escorted for a walk that he can not refuse.

The Porcine Monarch’s litter is well suited for the ride that he will take,
A large metal tub, which when he sits upon it, feels just like a regal throne,
To be be carried and escorted through the woods, by professionals, make no mistake,
 His steadfast constant helpers, who underneath his weight now weave and groan.

His reign has been a long one, and his growth both swift and quick,
Pampered with the best that for his kind and bloodline money could buy.
All adored and waited on him hand and foot to keep him well, and never sick,
Until this day was chosen for his grand final parade, under a watchful sky.

Is it not the way of Heads of State and Royalty to finally fall into decline,
When all their power wanes, and all their faithful hoards begin to tire?
Then off they’re carried to a sand pit, the ending of their lineage and their line,
At dawn,”Long Live The King!” at sunset just some loins, and chops to crackle on the village fire.

Karima Hoisan
May 22, 2011
Costa Rica
©2011 all rights reserved

*please see my comment below

Posted in Poems | Tagged , , , | 5 Comments

Part Two~The Colored Dreams ~ Ismara ~ Chapter 4

Posted on May 22, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

While the nearly empty plane was still on the ground

While the nearly empty plane was still on the ground, I pulled out Karima’s diary and  sat back to hear her voice speak to me once again. It was like having her sitting next to me, telling me a little secret, she had been keeping. But this little secret, had been kept for almost three years all told, and now was about to be revealed, word by word, to the light of day, and to my curious eyes, as I sat on an empty flight back to the mainland.

The more I read, the more upset I became

The more I read, the more upset I became, because I am not sure how to explain this, but I just didn’t expect what she was telling me. In some ways, I  felt I was trespassing on her privacy. Diary’s are not meant to be read by anyone, but the author of the diary, and this became very obvious the more I read. I even wondered if this somehow could be my fault, her seemingly slipping into a fantasy dream-world, was brought on because I was never home much anymore, and our conflicting schedules, robbed us of “quality twin- time” as we used to jokingly call it. When I would see my name, it would always make me catch my breath, wondering how it would be used. Sometimes it is not good to know too much, about what others think of you, or how they see you. More and more I saw this as I read on. In her first diary entry, which had no date, she had a sexual experience, and I felt odd reading it all, because in some ways, her words, were also exciting me, and this is something we never did or talked about in such detail in our lives together. It just was a taboo we both knew and respected, but did not however, include hours of analyzing why some guy was hot or why another was not. We discussed things like that day and night in high-school, but when it came to our own sexuality, the new experiences we were having, we kept it at a minimal of detail, which is why her voice, admitting every reaction to this dream, caused me to feel uncomfortable, as if I were really spying on her.

I put the book down after only the second Diary entry

I put the book down after only the second Diary entry, my head was spinning round and round, and a feeling of building sadness, crawled up inside of me and started to lodge in my eyes, where tears began to fall. Her entries, were long, and she went into great detail to tell it so it could be pictured, easily visualized. I felt she had an idea, she wanted to paint the scenes, some of them anyway, as these details were only for herself. This is difficult for me to talk about, but as each page turned, I was feeling more  and more a sense of betrayal from someone who was literally my other half. Of course we had differences of opinion, and tastes, and everything, but one thing we always had for each other was loyalty, and after reading the second entry, I realized she had chosen something, some fantasy that was not even real, over me, her real-life identical twin.

How could she not have told me about this?

“How could she not have told me about this?”
I admit to being emotional, we both are, or were, and Karima was the artist, while I never found an art form that felt right, one that I could turn feelings into beauty. I tried my hand at writing, took art classes right from the beginning alongside my sister, but where she excelled, I  failed, and felt I could not control my hand well enough to draw or paint, or my train of thought to be a poet, or a writer, so I gave it up very early. My sensitivity lingered on with no way to channel it into more positive things. My tears were how I could show my feelings, only my tears, and they fell on their own, coming from the deepest place of sadness that I possessed. I was so glad the plane was empty, as I let them flow freely over my cheeks, without trying to stop them. It would have been useless anyway to even try. Only one thought repeated itself over and over again,
“How could she not have told me about this?”

I fell over into the empty seat next to me and cried my eyes out

I fell over into the empty seat next to me and cried my eyes out, and a river of tears began to make a river of questions surge inside, like a flash flood of negative ideas, that was beyond my stopping. What had my sister gotten into? She believed so quickly, after only a few nights, that it wasn’t normal dreaming she was experiencing, but a sort of astral projecting I guess, that carried her into a parallel world. She never mentioned anything about drugs, and I searched my memory thoroughly and could not remember one incident of finding any on her, or in her room. We just didn’t do drugs, either of us. So..could she have been right? Or was she clearly delusional, almost a year before her accident? Then even the accident came into question. Was it really that, or something self-orchestrated by Karima, to leave this world, and me behind? Worse yet, could it have been subliminally planted into her, and was it really murder, as I sometimes suspected?

Today is the day I realized a sad truth

Today was the day I realized a sad truth and none of these speculations made any difference. Karima did not trust me. I wouldn’t have jeopardized her, I know I wouldn’t have, and maybe I could have been her confident instead of the diary, where she chose to put all her truths.  Maybe I could have changed the course of everything, and she would still be here today. This is why I really cried, out of  frustration, the fact that I was powerless to stop anything that happened, and worse yet, the daily loss I felt, the knowledge that she was never coming back. I loved her and trusted her even if she didn’t feel the same about me. Her last words at the bottom of the page, felt like a knife being slipped into my heart,
<“Am I still tempted to confess and relate this all to Ismara? My answer is the last word of my diary entry,
“No”
I close it and put it away.>
I too closed the journal tightly shut at that point and thought, I just might put it away forever.

The plane landed and I picked up my carry-on to leave

The plane landed and I picked up my carry-on to leave, the diary once again locked up inside. As I got up to make my way to the exit, I was struck with an idea, and the more I considered it, the more I decided I would do it.

In the end opening the diary did not bring me peace

In the end opening the diary did not bring me peace, as I had hoped it would, so, wouldn’t it just be better to leave it lay inside a suitcase forever, maybe even at some point, bury it symbolically to give it back to her… for her eyes only?

Like a bird being sucked up into a jet

Like a bird being sucked up into a jet, the air was taken out of me, my thoughts were not under my control, and I just knew, that this is what I would do. I would put the diary away and not take it out again. It had caused me to realize a hard truth, that in the end, we never do know anyone else, not even a twin we thought we did.
Composing myself as best I could and putting on my best face, I walked off the tarmac, and through the terminal to catch a cab for home.

Finally at home, I could collapse on the floor

Finally at home, I could collapse on the floor, and this is what I did, as I found I had the house to myself. I talked to the diary hidden in my carry-on as if it were Karima herself who was closed up inside.
“I’m sorry you didn’t trust me. I’m sorry I can’t change anything that happened to you” Picking myself up and removing all the rest of my belongings and throwing them on a chair, I carried the suitcase back upstairs. Inside my walk-in closet, I found a space behind some boxes of old books, and I hid the suitcase with my sister’s Diary inside.
“Good bye Karima. I wish you peace, but I don’t want to know one thing more about a life you decided not to include me in.”
Closing the closet door all the way shut, behind me I walked away, trying for perhaps the first time since her death, to get on with my own life, and leave the past behind.


to be continued…

Karima Hoisan
May 22, 2011
Linc Renacer SL
©2011 all rights reserved

*please see my comment

Posted in Prose Vignettes, Slices of Second Life, The Colored Dreams | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

My Beloved Moth’s Burning Flame

Posted on May 20, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

"...where the piper lures me from the park..."


I invite you to click this link to hear an .mp3 music file by Angelo Badalamenti entitled Roberto’s Arabesque to set the mood along with the picture and the poem.

Weirdness is the first name for my beloved moth’s burning flame,
that fires me up to go to shocking places, startling and treacherously unknown,
where the piper lures me from the park, into the twisted wooded back-ways,
and there I’m finally set ablaze inside someone’s unexpected game.

Strange is the middle name for my beloved moth’s burning flame,
the bass keys, the minor scales, where a shopping cart preludes sad endings,
so attractive for my dark- side, waxen wings of off-beat curiosity,
yes, it’s probably that tendency, of poetic self destruction that’s to blame.

Disturbed is the first surname for my beloved moth’s burning flame,
Emo, Goth, white-skinned -red lipped and wearing a pale down-turned grin,
ominous black birds, fog wheels and rolls, while the piper’s music plays,
and dangerous dogs do not obey, while children tease as if they’re tame.

Freakish is the last surname for my beloved moth’s burning flame,
excessive imagination, makes the wind cry and the leaves now whisper “die.”
The wick tonight does burn too bright, and curious moths will crisp and sputter.
Eldritch strolls out of the gutter, and in the dim-lit park, what’s his, he will reclaim.

Karima Hoisan
May 19, 20011
Virtual Art Gallery LINC Island SL

*please see my comment below

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Abstraction of Heart

Posted on May 17, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

"Thrown against the splattered window pane..."


Please enjoy the music“Ode” by David Darling chosen for this poem

Abstraction of Heart
inspired by the painting “Visceral Fling” by Jan Betts

Thrown against the splattered window pane of broken dreams,
a shot rings out past candle-light, and the amorous wine for two,
illusions sweetened aperitif, now you taste it, and now you don’t,
the fresh bruised center piece, with wounded flowering flesh is you.

Romance does die, and all is ugly raw, like meat that’s served too crude-
and blood slides dripping down the viaduct of one more lost affair. 
Let the heavens cry, and open wide to abject emptiness tonight,
I see you take one in the heart, oh… such a  painful bloody tear!

So don’t be mad if it won’t heal tomorrow or by the next week’s dawn,
Or sometimes, wants to disintegrate in liquid salt -filled plates.
Yes these pumps of hope and mirrors are known to finally self -repair,
but something that used to live within, gets lost forever from its fate.

Love’s lethal shell when passing, pierces, nerves cry out ever- imprinted,
It now survives, an injured veteran caught between a truth and lie.
Shot by a killer word that rings and echo- flecks with drilled disdain,
Ripped-out and flung, a heart beat stutters, grabs for breaths, but will not die.


Karima Hoisan
May 17, 2011
S.I. Costa Rica
©2011 all rights reserved

*please see my comment

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Part Two~The Colored Dreams~Dream Diary Entry #2

Posted on May 12, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

I can’t say I’m not tempted…

 I invite you to listen to my reading of this chapter, along with a selected, mood adding music track.
Just click on the link  here to enjoy it while you read along, and look at the pictures, as if I were in your room, reading it to you. <Karima~ Diary Entry#2>

 I can’t say I’m not tempted to tell Ismara about my first dream, because it would not be true, I am tempted. I’m lying here right now thinking about it, hovering on sleep’s border. Really, I never keep anything from her, except very personal details that might involve someone else in some way, but I can not get those sing-song words out of my head, each time I feel I just might let it all spill out.
“If you tell anyone. You will not be invited back. You will never come back”
I don’t want that to happen. I can not even think of it.
I sketched a few images this last week, and every night I wish and will that I will be allowed back in. I have now a book of sketches that I keep alongside my diary, and if she asks any questions, I will say it is just a project for illustrating a fantasy story, and in this way, I would hardly be lying. After more than a week has gone by, and I have not had another dream like the first, I am starting to believe it was a one-time vision or something of that matter. It really was only a dream after all, no matter how vivid, how real, how it physically touched me here in my bed, it was only a dream and there probably will not be another. These are my last thoughts as I drift off into sleep tonight.

When I become lucid in the dream, I am still in my pajamas

When I become lucid in the dream, I am still in my pajamas, and as hard as I try to push my way in, as I did the first time, I can’t seem to enter. I am inspired to call out, but as far as I can see, my voice has little to do with how they understand me. I say they, because so far I have felt many different entities, some that seem to be much higher and much more curious about me, than the others. I remember I first saw myself on the other side, as if I were at home, and when I closed my eyes, and opened them again, I was in the dream, dressed for the dream. This might be how I need to do it, and so I close my eyes and just listen to a far away music that sounds  like something I have heard awake, and yet it sounds like nothing I have heard. I keep trying to bring this world into something familiar, at least to compare it to, but it is illusive, dizzily changing, and so hard to describe, that when I try to write about it, I begin to think my diary will be painted like an abstract, open for many of my own interpretations.

I float on the other side, so painlessly, all I had to do was open my eyes

 I float on the other side, so painlessly, all I had to do was open my eyes. I am dressed in an evening gown, a hard to describe color, somewhere between pink and  pale-blue violet. I have high heels, jewelry, once again a style I would not wear in my waking life, yet I feel this is who I am supposed to be here, or perhaps someone’s idea of who I should be. Each time I think of this, I am so curious as to who that “someone” or should I call it “something” might be, and what he/she/it wants from me. As I float suspended on the other side of the barrier, I am thinking that this very moment is now my living proof, that I am not dreaming,but instead voyaging in a land I can barely grasp, or function in. So far I have only seen spheres, felt fingers, and a presence so strongly sensual, that I was moved beyond myself. How can I describe now what I feel like returning to this state, this world, if I may call it that. There is a slight feeling of embarrassment, as if I have been scrutinized in my weakest moment. I wonder if the presence I met in that dark room, will show itself again.I won’t lie to a diary, because what would be the point of that? I secretly hope it does find me again here, sometime.

Languid and liquid is how I feel

Languid and liquid is how I feel, when I am carried gently and smoothly from the heights of the barrier, through transparent floors that easily make way for my descent. I try to count them, and lose count, but I feel I am going very deep inside this structure of design, a new form of architecture for me, so foreign yet so beautiful in its strange angles, odd textures, surprising walls , sparse rooms with things that appear and disappear as I pass through them. It seems more logical sounding as I write it down, but at the moment I am living on this side, it is always on the edge of being too overwhelming. There seems to be no one to greet me, orient me, observe me, or tease me, so I lay here, still waiting to see what will happen next. Maybe only a few minutes pass, before I feel a direct summons to get up and to sit on the only piece of furniture in the entire long corridor, for this is not a room, but  a passageway, where I have been put down.

I stare into the long passageway and now feel I am not alone.

I stare into the long hallway and now feel I am not alone. I call out to the walls that look almost like they are textured in blue-green hair,
“Hello if you can hear me,” my voice has a metallic echo,” I have returned and I have told no one that I have come before”
A warm heat presses into my raised hand, as if sunbeams suddenly could grow hands, that could gently press against my own. I feel faint, and at the same time so privileged. Whatever this presence is, I know it knows I have just spoken the truth, and it greets me in a way, we both seem to understand is friendly and trusting. I look down to my right and see the pink sphere, about the size of the large red one I was given to hold and asked to take back with me. This heat, the hand I had just felt against my own, moves past me, leaving a trail of warmth and almost a slight smell, not unpleasant, but unknown. I watch it enter the crystal ball, filling it making the orb, wobble and shudder a little as it is being filled.

 It swirls in transparent waves, and then it sends a thought to me

 It swirls in transparent waves, and then it sends a thought to me. It is not a voice, if anything it is my voice I hear, but the words, the feelings, none of these are mine.
“We say this one is welcome, and only this one. That one, that is similar to this one, must wait outside. It is not that one’s time to come.”
“Yes”, I nod in total understanding.”My sister Ismara, who is similar to me, can not come here yet”
The sphere vibrates the entire basket I am sitting on, I feel a chill emanate from it, and I know the words it says to me are once again a reminder that its rules, its order, its world must be respected and obeyed.
“If this one talks of here to that one, it will cause a danger, and a crack, so unfortunate, that even the other side where this one lives, will unravel and perhaps terminate.”
I can not even believe this warning, so dire, that it places now in my head. I have so many questions I wish I could ask, but I only say with a sincere heart,
“Never. Never will I talk of what I see to anyone”
“Follow” and I rise and follow behind the ball that floats at waist level ahead of me.

The hallway glows as if  in moonlight

The hallway glows, as if in moonlight, and I am feeling that bewitched feeling of a full moon night. I have no fear, just a deep curiosity to see what it is I will be shown and how whatever I see, may help me understand this world. I already feel a certainty this is not a land of spirits passed over from the life I know and was born into. This is another world, that runs parallel, like my  grandmother referred to perhaps as the “land of fiery beings” because she was afraid to say the name all knew and whispered about, the world of Jinn. A world as valid as our own, created by the same Creator. These were her beliefs, and many  millions world-wide shared them, but no one liked to talk of them. Could it be I was the one who crossed over to this little-known side of Creation? What ramifications might this have on me, and on everyone? The sphere stops its floating, and right in front of me it begins  to divide into smaller perfect spheres, exactly like itself, until it no longer is visible as a whole, but only as the separate parts now floating around me, circling me, causing me to feel their presence as individual beings, yet with the same feeling as when it was one…the presence in all respects is clearly more feminine and light.

Then they apply fields of energy, that make my nerves respond…

Then they apply narrow fields of energy,like beams of broken light, that make my nerves respond in odd ways. I don’t feel this play is hostile, but I do feel helpless to stop it, so I try to relax and see what it is they wish to do with me. Before I realize it, my arms are twisting behind my back,as I am being slowly rotated, and I feel like  a captive on display for…for whom? The little balls almost giggle as they twist me around and around, and I try to feel their sense of joy, or at least play, but my heart begins to accelerate slightly with this thought,”Someone, something watches me again” It is almost as if I hear the thoughts, of something much stronger, masculine, commanding, that the smaller spheres move me this way or that for its own personal enjoyment.

There is a humming and the sound of dry wind

There is a humming and the sound of dry wind,while I rotate slowly around on my stiletto balanced axis, both feet like a dancers, pressed together tightly, my arms are now pulled and maintained behind me. The feeling is not as unpleasant as it may seem from my description but rather, I feel I am being asked to surrender my will to their order,and begin to be accepted in it. I find grace in my pose and a feeling again of warmth and well-being spreads over me. If I look upon this same position,from a point of view of fear, I could think I am being handcuffed and  restricted, but no, it is like a game, and they all seem to take enjoyment out of it, and in return give me these pleasant sensations, that radiate from my limbs to my heart, and then back out my fingertips, that are in a clasp behind me.

In an instant, this game of  subtle manipulation is over..

In an instant, their game of subtle manipulation is over, the smaller balls reunite to  the larger sphere again, and it begins pushing gently but firmly against the small of my back, urging me forward, floating me on the air, only a meter or so off the floor. My hands automatically wrap around it, holding it to me, and the sensation is so pleasing, I close my eyes, as we travel down this beautiful mysterious hallway, the large Sphere warm, vibrating in my hands that hold it behind my back. Every now and then it pushes against me, and I travel quicker for a few seconds, feeling it fit to the curve of my lower spine. When it touches me, I feel I want to cry, not even sure what my reasons would be, but I know it is not out of sadness, but rather the realization of my helpless smallness and also how chosen and blessed I am to be living, dreaming, imagining this night. In the end it makes no difference, be it fantasy or a separate reality, I am being changed by experiencing it. Every second I live here, I am being changed.

The heat wraps my nerve endings, passing through me in undulating currents

The heat wraps my nerve endings, passing through me in surging and ebbing currents that I perhaps will never be able to describe in even a tenth degree, just how it makes me respond. Coupling this sensation with the feeling of eyes upon me, recording, captivating, not only visually, but in every way, brings me to see my rare beauty as a human being with limb attachments, voice box, and soul, as seen through the eyes of a being whose shape changes and is not corporal, who is voiceless yet its thoughts are passed to me in my thoughts , and who is very interested in knowing everything it can about me.
“Extend the arms this one, to pass the curtain here, must be for this one’s ability alone ” and as I hear these thoughts, the orb frees itself from me, and hangs back behind, before it returns to where I first saw it resting on a trunk at the far end of the hall.

 My arms shoot out ahead of me instinctively

My arms shoot out ahead of me instinctively, and feeling separated from the sphere, causes me a moment of panic, which I talk down, as I see I am coming to a curtain, a thin gauze that divides this side from another, or so I am guessing. It is like a border crossing, and only I have my papers in order to make it across…or this I hope. The curtain parts for me, as I go slowly gliding into it, through it, but as soon as all of me reaches the other side, I am abruptly placed on my feet, and my solo flight is halted rather jarringly.

 I am standing outside a door, opened a crack to let me glimpse into the other side

 I am standing outside a door, opened a crack to let me glimpse into the room. The colors are so magnificent, deep reds and soft pink, somewhat similar to the room with the beautiful hand holding me tightly to the floor, but here enters light beams of the palest of blue. I try to walk in on my own, but am stopped by a wall that although is invisible, is totally impenetrable. I have seen this a few times, and do not struggle. Simply, I close my eyes and take some deep calming breaths.  Any other action, would be fruitless, and as I slowly open them I see I am inside the room, standing by a window, bathed in light, a small, pinkish orb is resting on my right hand. I am trying very hard to not lose from my memory, all it is saying to me.

 I am not what you think I am

“I am not what you think I am,” its words pour into my mind as if it is speaking from my chest out, “But you also are not what you believe you are. For now it is enough that you learn what I am, and what this will mean for you. I am your intimate, this is what you will call me, and I will call you, mine.. just mine. You have crossed over into our world, perhaps brought over, as yet I do not know. Do not believe I know everything here, as I only know a part, as we all do. We cross over to your side, and many times it upsets things. We are cautious here too, you might cause unbalance, but we accept your presence, as long as you accept our rules.”
“Yes I accept” I answer him, a lump in my throat, reaching out, trying to understand what I just agreed to. I have decided upon calling this entity him, as that is how he feels to me, my intimate feels masculine, and there are no doubts in my mind about that, however all the rest, what my coming here can mean, swirls in uncertainty tinged with apprehension. I am not really sure I want all of this, or any of this, when I laid my head on the pillow and fell into his world, their world.

“I will enter you. Be empty”

 “I will enter you. Be empty,” he says, and before I can even try to imagine what this means, I am lifted off the ground, and at the same time, part of me, I would say almost all of me, is getting pushed out of my mind, by first a hum, then a breath that breathes inside my thoughts, and I am dissolving, fragmenting into I don’t even know, but he is inside me and I don’t have to breathe, my heart could stop and I would stay alive. His force, his life flows into me,and becomes me. Ohhh entry so sublime! I throw my doors open to anywhere he wants to go..and he wanders through me, sees my life and my dreams, lays in my bed, floats over Ismara, paints in his colors the word “mine” and it is like a tattoo inked upon my soul. I am in an empty space of ecstasy, tears bathe my cheeks,  it’s both physical and very spiritual.  I feel him inside of me, all my memories are thrown open to him, and he sighs, deeply moved as he lives one after another, as he lives me while viewing my personal picture album of all I have ever recorded in my memory.
“oh god, oh god, oh god”
Suspended in one long moment of communion with my intimate, time doubles back around, and I feel like we are re-meeting, having been joined before this moment. I surrender in ecstatic breaths, that come out of my open mouth like smoke being exhaled and in a moment of wild improvisation, I turn over on my back and pull his vessel, the small glowing orb close to my face.

In gratitude and feelings of the deepest kind of love, I press the ball to my lips

In gratitude and feelings of the deepest kind of love, I press the ball to my lips, and I kiss my intimate, in such surrender, I empty myself of myself, and there is only one inside my floating shell, my hovering vessel of attachments, and dressings, and it is called “mine-intimate” or maybe “intimate mine” and as I press my parted lips to the pink sphere, his vessel, of round smoothness and reflected light. I feel him leave out of my mouth, and fill up quickly the orb which grows and grows with the floodgates of his being, rushing out of my shell, and refilling his own..Oh, there are no words, to be so filled, and then drained! My tears pour out of me, and I fall down to earth, kneeling in reverence for what was joined together.

I hold him in my hands, on my lap, as if he were an innocent child in my care

I hold him in my hands, on my lap, as if he were an innocent child in my care, stroking and touching the orb, touching the inside, feeling the waves of the energy that filled me and then left me, leaving me dazed and gasping for breath. It has not yet ended, I sense it, and then he says to me, deep inside my thoughts,

I will let you see for one minute what I see. “Press me to your face”

“I will let you see for one minute what I see. Do not be afraid,” then he says to me
“Press me to your face.” I don’t hesitate but pick him up and do just what he asks me to do. Then I see the unseeable.
“Oh my god. It is too much” “It is too much” It is too much”

Oh my god…

“Oh my god, I am not supposed to know this” I cry out and cry into him, into the orb which has turned soft and gelatine-like, now covering most of my face. I am so horrified, shocked, that instead of pulling him off of me, I lean into him even deeper, crying, sobbing, seeing the future, I should never be allowed to see.
“Stop! Please Stop!”
I pull the sphere away and hold it, at arms length, trying to control my heaving sobs. “Please I can’t anymore, please, just let me go back. I want to go back,” I beg him.

Why did you show me this?

“Why did you show me this? There is a long pause, I do not hear his thoughts, and think maybe he is waiting for me to be calm again. The globe turns cool in my hand, and I look at it in such a different way, then I did when I saw the first one, in the previous dream. The globe, the orb, it is not him, it is his vessel, his housing,and transport, and for a short while, I too was that, a vessel for him to house all of his life essence inside. Then for an even shorter time, he was mine… but I could not handle this. I know it sounds so silly, the emotional hysteria of an unbalanced artist, but tonight I am feeling a love, as I have never known. I ask him gently again, my thoughts more quiet and at peace,
“Why did you show me this?”
“I do not know.” he answers me. “Lay back upon the floor, I will heal you”

“How can you not know? Are you as frail and fallible as we are?”

“How can you not know? Are you as frail and fallible as we are?” I look into him,”Oh… can you even imagine what these words you say to me, are doing to me? Oh, they cause me fear and distrust. I trusted you, because I felt you did know what you were doing. It is the reason, I surrendered my will and my corporal body to house you for a few minutes. Are we all blind and guessing, failing, and erring in all lives that exist? Is there not one more perfect than the rest? Surely yours must be more perfect than mine.”
“Lay back,” he repeats “I will heal you.”

He covers my throat with his sphere that begins to glow warm

He covers my throat with his sphere, that begins to glow warm, against my neck.
“Mine, I take away the images that you have seen. I apologize to you for showing you too much. You will remember you saw something, but not what you saw. Keep our rules, guard our secret, and I will see you again. I wish to see you again. I touched your beauty, and it is like no beauty I have seen. Go now, Mine, go in peace, and as you rise back up to your world, we will watch over you. You will be safe.” Close your eyes Mine… Goodbye…”

I do close my eyes, but expect to be in my bed when I open them

I do close my eyes, but expect to be in my bed when I open them, instead, I am lying, floating just below the level where the barrier exists, between our two worlds. I see hands, clasped hands all around me, and then they begin to unclasp, one then the next, starts to slowly break into soft applause. There is that strange music again, and the applause dies down until it stops. I am so drained, I can not even think if this  tribute is for me, or for something having nothing to do with me. I don’t care, I am at peace, and feel myself floating upwards, getting closer to the wall that divides, one life from another.

Like pushing up from the bottom of the pool…

Like pushing up from the bottom of the pool, I rise getting closer and closer to the point where I enter. I am starting to wake up, and there is the mixed feeling of relief and yet nostalgia. I have fallen in love, and there would be no one who could understand it, even if I could speak it. I have fallen in love.

I gently push against the barrier, the hands once again applaud softly behind me

I gently push against the barrier, the hands once again applaud softly behind me, and I feel it is their way today of bidding me well, and saying good-bye with approval. All I need to do now, is close my eyes, and resting my head upon my arm, I close them shut, and when I open them, I am in the same position, waking up in my own bed. This is how easy it is, although it seems to me, it should be more complicated to return from a place so very very far away.
I listen to the sounds of the household, and there are none. It is early, by the light in my windows, so I turn on my own light and begin to write everything I can remember tonight. I don’t think I will use the word dream anymore from this night on, but I will call it something else, maybe just my other life.

I know now that this is not dreamland, where I go to

I know now that this is not dreamland where I go to, but to an alternate world, where love has found me and bound me to want to return again and again. Am I still tempted to confess and relate this all to Ismara? My answer is the last word of my diary entry,
“No”
I close it and put it away.

to be continued…

Posted in Prose Vignettes, The Colored Dreams | Tagged , , , , , | 9 Comments