"I don't know when you will stop acting as if I don't exist..."
I was sitting with friends.. We were speaking of something, I guess, I don't remember what it was... Words were monotonous, eyes half closed, it wasn't difficult to know that the topic was forced so we wouldn't feel the awkwardness of silence..
A heavy spirit..
There was hardly anything that flowed naturally.. Maybe breaths.. No, even some held their breaths.. Maybe heart beats.. I had forced myself to leave home, forced myself to walk the chaotic streets, and forced myself to sit upright and listen, and smile, and nod, all in the hope of getting caught in a natural flow...
But it was obvious there was none... We were swimming in an angry sea..
It is incredible how it drains away the energy.. In the last hour of our meeting I was so tired, hungry and dizzy.. And my friends looked drowsy too. I barely moved a limp, yet I was like, just like, someone rescued from a sea storm.. All I needed was to lie on the sand and sleep, though all I wanted was a long run in the meadows, and the contradiction, the conflict, was an added load, I was overwhelmed.. Even more with that undefinable force that pushed phrases in my mind and infront of my eyes, that sometimes I really would be unable to see before me..
I opened my bag and started searching inside..
"Not every time you will find something.."
I opened my wallet, the contents peered at me defiantly..
"Where you will search next? In your pockets? There is nothing there either... Do you know what you want?"
I looked.. I felt my friends were looking at me, wondering what I am searching for..
"What if everything else was lost? Will you cease to be?"
I started to breathe heavily... I wanted to shake my head..
"What if you can't find something to show to them?"
I was trembling slightly, ravaging my bag.. The keys jingled and the papers crunched.. There was nothing..
By then I wasn't looking in my bag, I was turning my mind upside down..
"I am not an idea roaming inside your tired head.."
I kept searching..
"What you are looking for is not inside your bag!" It was hard to ignore her last words.. So I stopped, drew my hands back on my lap.. and looked around..
"Have you lost something?" my friend asked..
"Yes.." she said, and I repeated after her..
And I smiled.. A question, though unsaid, was a flying elephant floating in the air between us: What was lost?
We were ready to leave.. We walked together down the street.. I was dragging my feet and dreaming at open eyes of my bed.. With the last breaths I had I saluted them, we agreed to meet again, and next thing I remember I was in bed, next to a pocket book opened at the start of "To Solitude" by John Keats, and a white paper crumbled by the numerous times I rolled over it in my restless sleep in the past nights.. The folds in the paper were more expressive than whatever my poor pencil and poor higher brain would have sketched.. The pencil was already snapped in half.. My brain, I guess into much smaller bits, and scattered beyond gathering..
I went into whirls of dreams before this dream came to me..
The devil appeared to me, I was in great distress that I felt myself dying, excruciating pain and fear..
He told me "I am the god of this place.. Your most pious men worship me, your fiercest atheist worship me.. My rules are your laws.. Your gods are but my three shadows.. Do you think you can stand in my way?"
He didn't sound dramatic, he talked in the voice of an angry man.. However, I was in great pain and horror..
"If you want salvation from your torture, point this knife to another soul, and all your pain would be hers.."
There were thousands of glowing cyan glass bottles.. He pointed to them, then he pointed to my chest.. I looked, there was a dagger, stabbed all the way to the handle, beneath my heart.. I didn't know what to do.. To condemn another soul, or remain in my unbearable pain..
I took hold of the handle of the dagger.. The devil walked away and I was face to face with the effervescent bottles.. I wondered if they were babies and children, and one of them will grow in misery by my own hands..
The pain was getting worse each time I thought it reached the ultimate degree, I was about to pull the dagger, when two hands grabbed my feet and pulled me.. I fell to my face but I didn't hit the ground.. Instead, I woke up..
Drenched in sweat and with a heart that was almost to rip out..
I stared into the darkness for a while.. Then I cried..
Half an hour later..
After a while I started to calm down.. I washed my face and abluted.. And I stood in my room to pray..
Instead of performing the usual prayer, I just stood there.. After some minutes, trying to say anything, I muttered "hmm-mm".. It was hardly audible from the humming sound of silence.. A few tears dropped, the last in the well this night, and I went back to bed..
In the morning, it didn't make any difference it was morning.. I could force myself again to get dressed and go meet whoever where-ever.. I could put on a smile the way I put on my blouse, tell myself all would go well..
Sometimes I know it is worth trying.. But this time, I couldn't see beyond the instant.. Verily, not anything but the grace of God can save one from this state.. All one can do is just stay open to receive this grace at any point..
I ate breakfast, a series of unrelated food, and went back to bed.. I knew that I missed something, the last day I forgot, and the one before, but this day I was determined, it was intended..
I lay in bed, in a room swimming in day light..
Thinking myself dormant, neutral.. All this pain? I could not forget the dream..
How could I call for angels in a land that worships Satan?
"Angels are not afraid of devils, it is the other way round.. You have to release yourself.."
What do you mean? I asked..
"You have to choose.."
What are my choices?
"You have to know.."
I tried to dismiss those flashing phrases, though I knew they made sense.. A sense so perfect that they sound detached and symbolistic..
"Symbols? I am not mysterious, it is this world that is mysterious to me.. Who said that Antichrist is justthe man that will come at the end of time? You have to release yourself or you will remain torn apart.. You have to choose.. Fire is in the shape of water, and water in the shape of fire.. That is the reason for your confusion, but no longer the senses and man-made logic are the gauge.. You have to know, not doubt, not think, not assume.. Choose the fire that is water, and when you do, no fire or water will ever matter in your freedom.. But if you choose the water that is fire, though you know in your heart of the deception, you will suffer.. And you must know that fire and water cannot come together, that is what you are trying to do now.."
Suddenly my heart fluttered.. It continued fluttering for long minutes, and it felt like my heart detached, or like I collapsed and only my heart remained..
I was afraid I was getting a heart attack..
Or it was a dangerous withdrawal symptom, because I missed more than three days of the medicine..
But by time, it felt serene to me..
What are you? I asked..
"I am not your conscience, neither I am your guardian angel, nor an imaginary sub-consciousness of a schizophrenic mind.."
Can you show me yourself? Can you speak to me in words? I asked..
"It never happened.. I don't know if I can.."
And all was silent and quiet for long, I don't know if I fell asleep..
But I felt a warm air on my face.. Then I realized it was a breath.. I opened my eyes, and I saw a pair of hazel eyes looking into my hazel eyes..
My heart jumped to my throat, but I didn't move.. Her face was calm and she had a powerful look, undisturbed eyes, shining with well-being, and a mass of dark strands.. She sat there, naked, though I felt more as the naked one.. I sat up in bed.. Tens of questions in my head..
"By the manifestations and laws of your world, my codes result in what you see now.." she spoke in heard words, in a voice identical to mine, but with a completely different manner.. Steady words, serene rhythm, and something like joy...
She touched my heart with her finger tips and said "You have to choose.."
and by the blink of an eye, she disappeared..
What if I disbelieved my heart? I asked, how do I look then?
"By the laws of my world, you cannot handle what you would see.. Either ways, your eyes have a capacity, but the eye of the heart is limitless.."
Why doesn't she speak to me like you do? I asked..
"She is in so much pain that she can't see you, or me..Neither was she able to betray nor to silence her heart.."
And then all was quiet.. Even the ever-noisy street.. And I fell to sleep like a baby..
I woke up in late afternoon..
I couldn't say if all that happened was just a dream, and never will I be able to know..
It didn't matter.. What are dreams anyway? Sometimes they are more real than awakeness..
I took a long bath, and despite the imbalance and dizziness, I felt very comfortable and clean, something that reached deeper than my skin...
I knew that I was to receive God's grace, and I was eager for it..
This day I decided to stay home, like a rehabiliation.. The thought of it made me relaxed..
I drank tea and watched a documentary on weaver ants.. I read the poem by Keats and closed the book.. I threw away the paper and the broken pencil...
By evening, I felt restless..
My heart started to feel heavy again..
I was afraid to leave home or call anyone..
I turned off the lights and lit a candle.. My eyes were sensitive to the light..
I put the pear on the window sill, I couldn't eat it..
I sat on the cold barquet, and I gazed at my feet, for a long, long time..
"My children.." I whispered, and tears rolled down my face..
I was going to point the knife to my children..
I didn't care if people started asking "What is wrong with her?".. I was in pain..
I was imprisoned in this block of concrete..
The old lady I met in the street, she held my hand and patted my shoulder, why?
There was something running after me..
I couldn't run for the rest of my life..
I didn't want to be sane, why sane? What logic is there in being sane?
Forgive me.. I had to save my children...