I Am Not at Home Here.

compound complex

I awake in a place that clearly is not home.

Looking about in a blurry daze, the expected trappings of bed, chair and scuffed, dirty walls have somehow disappeared during my wretched slumber. All the familiar has slid away, swirling downward, but not swallowed, into an eerily black vortex above which my stiffened body floats unaffected by the devouring maelstrom. My immediate surroundings are an atmosphere of greenish hue that is part of what appears to be sky. Not a sky like I've ever seen before. Definitely a sky. Emerald and iridescent. Suspended amidst the shimmering splendor of undulating waves of a surreal firmament is a golden sphere, which I take to be a moon. The gentle but steady rays of illumination it sends forth warm me. This I find puzzling, as this celestial body is not a star.

I continue to have no control over my body, yet I am not uncomfortable nor do I sense any imminent danger. Something has changed regarding the direction put upon me. A force - like what I would imagine to be a tractor beam - draws me upward and away from the strangely silent but malevolent whirlpool below. Coming into focus at a distance seemingly close, but probably an infinite space away in light years, is an incredible edifice of glass, porcelain and adamantine steel - a veritable temple of a night's vision, most likely dedicated to some constellation's mercurial god. Opalescent double doors of extraordinary height and hung upon hinges of gold begin to open in protracted slow motion. Blazing through the widening expanse of the closed-become-revealed is a brilliance like that of Earth's noonday sun. I gaze directly upon its supernal glory; in the manner of a dream, I am unharmed.

I startle as there emerges from doors now fully opened the likes of which nightmares are made ...

compound complex

A stream of congealing blood-red water gushes with ferocity through the newly opened doors. With frightening abandon it rises and falls sharply, wildly to the accompaniment of an initially unidentifiable, shrill blast. This cacophonous herald blares forth like shrapnel from what appear as outsize trumpets played by a dozen rampant jackals, goose stepping in strident march tempo upon a trail of stars. Their hideous aspect in this unfamiliar role of court musicians is repellant yet singularly alluring; I cannot look away, much as I wish. I am nauseous. As the wash of roiling waters loops round and round the monolithic plank of stars, it disappears suddenly into a crevasse torn into the fabric of this swirling, greenish sky.

As though nonexistent for the din of the screaming trumpets, I perceive a harmonious but somber backdrop of a passacaglia pouring luxuriantly from some impossible celestial pipe organ, rising steadily from pianissimo to piano to forte to fortissimo ... FORTISSISSIMO. At the zenith of this divine explosion of purest sound, the jackals and their brassy salvos implode. Gone, swept forever into the abyss. I wince, attempting to cover my ears. I cannot raise my hands from my sides. My innards commence melting from the insanity of this deafening, gorgeously decimating sound attack.

Of a sudden, I am enveloped in a blanket of a snow-silent landscape. My guts are restored to their rightful place and I look up from my prone position …

cameo-d

Sounds like you're having one of those "astral projection" experiences....ya think?

Satanus

You died in your sleep?

S

AK - Jeff

Abducted methinks.

Jeff

compound complex

Thanks for your surmises, my friends. Some old SF flicks and the orchestral piece Coronation of Jackals got the ball rolling. A scene in Snow Falling on Cedars had a noisy jazz tune of sorts gradually bow out to a majestic adagio of sacred music, I believe, that consumed the soundtrack. It was incredible.

It takes so little to push me over the edge.

Always good hearing from you dear folks.

CoCo Naut

musky

Thanks for your post!I thought you fell asleep after reading"Revelation it's grand climax at hand"

compound complex

Hey, Musky! You're welcome.

No, Revelation was probably the furthest thing from my mind, which is strange, given our "religious" experience as JWs!

Gratefully,

CoCo

compound complex

15 November:

Of a sudden, I am enveloped in a blanket of a snow-silent landscape. My guts are restored to their rightful place and I look up from my prone position …

2 December:

The visual chaos of the combined earthly, demonic and celestial, in an accelaerating tidal wave of unimaginable proportions, has vanished into spatial oblivion. In my now tranquil and soothing field of vision is a panorama of densely packed, gargantuan incense cedars, dusted with a shimmering blanket of luminescent snow. No man with finite understanding and sparse vocabulary can adequately describe the peculiar, emanating glow from within this snow comforter that covers fully the expansive landscape bed.

In the distance I espy a blur of bipedal approach in my general and still somewhat incapacitated condition's direction. It looms larger, and darker ...

A black and sinister blot of inexorable movement in direct alignment with my firmly rooted, unmoving self.

compound complex

It is a difficult circumstance but by no means an impossible one.

I have been uprooted from the home - the sublime existence - that I have known and loved for
several years now. Working at home was the perfect environment for producing art, albeit some-
what sterile regarding the occasional need for human interaction and consequent input. My current
course, however, requires me to concentrate [this is the impossible task] on my work amidst the low
roar of the continuous chatter of those patronizing this venue for learning. My distraction is one of steel-
ing myself against the din and confusion produced by the would-be technophiles wrangling over the two com-
munication terminals. Not to mention breezing by and chilling me while they rifle through the stacks ...

I am not at home here.

I am in exile.

I will be brave ...

I Am Not at Home Here.

Share this