Sunday Whirl 2-2-20

It might have been a sign, or just a token of my exhausted mind, but I saw him coming through the mist. The form approached me with one arm outstretched, beckoning me towards him, and the other folded across his chest, hand on his heart.

I am not usually the type of person who gawks, but there was something about him and I couldn’t help staring. My gaze was fixed on that beckoning arm. As he came closer, the mist seemed to surround us both and I queried maybe I was dead, maybe my life had been chopped off at age thirty and I was meant to follow this man.

I tried to lay still but felt the sensation of a rope pulling me out of bed in his direction. I fought it. I refused to be dead, I was young, I was healthy. What was this apparition? Was it an apparition? I felt my body, it was there, solid, I couldn’t be dead. I put my hands over my eyes, willing it, he, whatever it was, to go away. I wasn’t ready.

It was then the meditation tape clicked off and I sat up, suddenly awake.

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