Fifty-Eight

I was with a great crowd in an arena or concert hall. They had their hands in the air, enjoying themselves. On top of the crowd, there was a faint, bluish light. It slowly turned red and thickened into a fog. It felt heavy and dangerous. Something in its shape and the way it moved reminded me of a snake, or a Chinese dragon.

I wanted to know where we were. I lifted up, higher and higher until I could see the Scandinavian peninsula and its surroundings.

Then it all narrowed down again, I was falling into a funnel. But instead of the arena, I was now in a room somewhere in ancient Egypt. There was a priest performing a ceremony. He was drawing symbols in the sand with a stick. And on the wall, all around us: golden bees. The door nearby had a dragon carved into its frame.  I looked at the priest for clues, but he didn’t want to be disturbed.

Suddenly, I dropped into a glass sphere. The Siberian man had been waiting for me. We were not alone, kids or people dressed as characters from a Super Mario game were running around us in a frenzy. I looked at him, it all felt so absurd. He shrugged “Teenagers”.

Through the glass, we could see dolphins and their vast sea. A huge wave hit them so hard that they were thrown into the air. A hole opened in the scene, like the black iris of an eye, and insects of all kinds were swarming out of it. Bees, too. They were badly hurt, charred…

The Siberian man grabbed me “We must go. Now”. His hands were burnt. We ran. Into a cave where a woman was waiting for us, dressed like the High Priestess in the tarot. She was surrounded by golden bees. Unhurt.

“What is going on?” I asked.

“We’ll wait here now until this passes” she replied. I noticed some strange shapes lingering in the background, but could not see anything clearly.

“We’ll weather this out”, she said.

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Fifty-Six

Standing at a deep well with the Siberian man, I could see metallic steps leading to the crystal clear water below. We started to go down. The stairs were rusty, rough and cold to the touch. Some of the wall was covered with moss. We went deeper and deeper, then entered the water and started to sink. We did not stop.

At one point, the ladder bent, and soon it was above us, still deep underwater. It became smooth and soft to the touch. We swam further. I was gently stroking the “wall” overhead when realised it was the underbelly of a whale. When we reached the surface and looked around, we could see the huge tail. Also spotted green shores close by, and headed there.

There were huge megaliths on the beach, and people waiting for us. I asked one of them about the stones and what they were for, and he replied that they were “homes for the soul”. I wondered what that meant, whether they were tombstones. “Not at all”, he laughed.

Then he touched the stone and asked me to do the same. I did. At first, it was rough and cold but then it started to get warm and supple, soft as skin. Almost a human body. It became pliable, like a membrane, and I could enter. Inside, it was a rock formation and I started to climb.

When high enough, I stopped to look. A golden sea all around. I was one with the megalith. I was the megalith.

And suddenly, I could feel someone entering, the same way I had. It was the Siberian man. He came to me, took my hand and we started to descend. But we did not stop at ground level. We kept on going deeper until we submerged in dark green water. We were in the sea, again.

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Fifty-Two

There were colourful fish of all shapes floating in the night. They started to pour in one direction, as if carried by a powerful air current. As I followed them, the darkness gently dissipated. We were in a forest, I saw birch trees gliding by. Then I noticed that there was a river below, wild geese swimming in the depths. All were racing ahead: the fish above, the geese below…

I spotted a house in the distance. Maybe that was where we were heading… but we were too fast. The wind drew the river out of its bed and the mass of water was floating in the air, surging ahead with us. I was worried that it would flood and destroy the forest. But the flux did not burst, it slowed down instead. I turned to face it. The water was like a tunnel embracing a void. Its core was invisible, silent and still. I was mesmerised: should I enter?

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Forty-Five

I was in cave or a small shrine with a group of chanting Buddhist monks. They were sitting in a circle, with me in the centre. Some threads were spiralling from me to them, and each monk held onto one of them as they gently circled clockwise around me. Then they lit the threads, which started to burn slowly, like incense sticks. When the fire got close to me, it burnt the air around me. It felt like fresh breeze coming through a window. I felt lighter, almost transparent. Then the threads turned into water, and I was like a fountain. And the monks, still holding the end of the strings of water, started to weave them in beautiful, vivid colours. They were creating a beautiful, rotating cloth above my head. I opened my arms, and my fingers became threads, and my whole body, too, and the monks weaved me into this piece of fabric: light, vibrating, intricate. I was caught by the wind, and taken out of the shrine, I was flying above the mountains, above the rivers… dancing in the air.

Forty-Two

I was walking in a riverbed and I did not get wet because the water divided around my body. My arms were open wide, I could touch the soft, liquid light with my fingertips. There was also something on my back, the sensation reminded me of arms or legs made of gauze or thin paper… I wondered how they looked, maybe I had insect-like wings… Whatever they were, they felt new and fragile. I wondered what would happen if they got wet. But they didn’t.

Then it was late afternoon, almost evening. I was in a forest. A soft light walked among the long shadows of trees. And there was a cascade. The water in its fall became a male body until it splashed and merged with the river below. Again. And again. The third time, however, he did not plunge into the stream: he started to run. He ran and ran through the forest, and the river followed with such force that it broke some trees and uprooted others. All was under water.

By the time he was gone, it was getting dark. Right in front of me, I could see a whirling, pulsating darkness: a hole where a tree used to be. The Siberian man stepped to me, took my hand and, minding his steps at the edge of dark, infinite vortexes, he was leading the way. We were heading towards an enormous tree that resembled a woman.

Forty-One

It was night. We were a group of people standing with arms stretched out wide, carrying fire in our hands. I could feel its warmth. There was nothing else to be seen or heard. All was dark and still. We entered the sea and leaned back, one by one. Floated. The water was blooming fire. And then, we submerged and dived deeper and deeper, carrying our fires with us into the depths.

Thirty-Six

There were two big bodies of water that met in a single line, but they did not mingle. As if there was a piece of glass between them… but no. I could see the arms and legs of a woman dancing, but could not see her face or torso, she herself was the line dividing the waters.

She was slowly pushing them apart, and in the space between the two walls of water, there was a woman bending close to the soil, and another one coming right behind her. All of them were far-eastern, with almond eyes and long, black hair. The first woman bent to the ground after each step, and put a seedling into the wet black soil. The second woman was slowly dancing behind her, her hands raised above her head, and with the delicate movements of her fingers, she touched the walls of water and freed some drops, gently sprinkling the seedlings.

The third woman was standing still, keeping the waters apart with her palms. I was facing her, doing the same, with my legs wide apart. When the two women finished planting and reached me, they crawled through between my legs and stood behind me. Then the first woman let the waters meet again, and we were all deep undersea.

The light of the Moon filtered in gently, and the women danced, their hair whirling freely. The seedlings started to grow, they were tall grass now.

Twenty-Seven

I went back to the icy lake to meet the Siberian man. We were standing in the water, and I told him that I wanted to die. “I know” he said. I didn’t have to say more, I didn’t have to explain that I would never do something like that to my daughter and my husband. He knew. We understood each other. We were just there, looking into each other’s eyes, holding hands.

Then I lied down in the water, let myself sink. The ice slowly covered me, it grew thicker and thicker, and I wouldn’t have been able to lift my head even if I had wanted to. But I didn’t want to.

The Siberian man was by my side, holding my hand. I was drowning. My body struggling for air, I could feel my pulse racing. And yet, I was calm inside, everything was alright. Without moving at all, I was waiting for something.

And then, suddenly, I was outside my body, floating.  I saw myself, frozen into ice, and the Siberian man – still there, still holding my hand…

Twenty-Six

I was in a boat with the Siberian man. The world around us was in all shades of blue. It was more like a lake than the sea. There was a forest ahead of us, a black outline of trees against a dark blue sky. We were close to the shore, it was not too deep here, but partly frozen. I don’t know why, I just stepped out of the boat. I was cold, trudging through a mix of water and ice. But I kept walking towards the forest. I wanted to go there.

The Siberian man followed me in his boat. He didn’t say a thing. I wondered whether it was the beginning of winter or the end of it. Was the lake not fully frozen or not fully melted yet? I couldn’t tell. It was very cold, but all those shades of blue… sparkling, almost white… robin egg blue… cobalt… sapphire… Prussian blue… indigo… ultramarine… midnight blue…  so beautiful. I could feel the whole landscape throbbing, and I was pulsating with it, like a tuning fork…

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