I wasn’t meditating.
I was simply enjoying some quiet time after dinner, relaxing on my bed with eyes closed, letting thoughts run through my head…
I wasn’t actively thinking of L, but then, suddenly, I saw His face.
I wasn’t sleeping -I hadn’t any intention of sleeping – and yet I could see Him in front of me. I did a body inventory to check to see if I was dreaming. What was unusual was that I could still hear my kid (K) talking loudly in the kitchen, so I figured that I couldn’t have been dreaming. As a matter of fact, I could have easily followed the conversation that K was having with his brother in the kitchen – if I had to – and yet I was also experiencing this vision of L behind my closed eyelids.
I thought of how I could open my eyes.
I thought of how I could move and that vivid image of L sitting on a green hillock overlooking a valley below would have likely faded back to grey as these images usually do
… and yet I couldn’t shake it from my mind.
So I opened my eyes briefly, testing my theory, and upon closing, He remained…just as before. He was dressed in a pair of black jeans and a light blue shirt. He was, as usual, barefoot. I was standing a few feet behind Him, and He was sitting in the grass, looking over His shoulder at me, looking up at me.
I examined His face, trying to commit the details of His present form to memory: He had blue eyes, and His long hair didn’t match up with either His eyebrows or the stubble that shadowed along His jaw, as both were several shades darker than the bleached blonde of His hair. He had those familiar scars along His lips, that sarcastic grin…and He had facial piercings.
I couldn’t tell if He was going for ‘surfer dude’ or ‘suburban hipster.’
It struck me as strange, and I wondered if this was a sort of amusing game to Him; He kept tossing His head as if He was striking poses for me, and yet He slyly commented that I should stop trying to mentally inventory His face, and actually talk to Him for a change.
He was right in a way; perhaps I was trying to mentally inventory His face.
But what struck me was that I was neither sleeping, dreaming, nor meditating, and yet, I was *seeing* Him.
And even more unusual, when I tried to dispel the vision, it stayed in my mind’s eye.
So, you would not want to see Me? He pouted. He sat up straight, clasped His knee to His chest, and tilted His head prettily.
Sit with Me.
But all I could think of was how graceful was the curve of His neck as He looked up at me, and how seeing Him, feeling His presence like that suddenly engendered specific thoughts in my head that left me to grin like a smitten fool.
Perhaps you are, He drawled, and what of that?
(Perhaps those sudden thoughts that I think should remain unspoken.)
We talked for what seemed like two or three hours, on that hillock overlooking the valley below.
I felt the rain on my face as He drew complex diagrams in the dark soft dirt. Perhaps we talked of magic or runes or other matters entirely full of important points that could only be conveyed with the help of visual representations.
I’m not entirely certain of every thing that We discussed; I mostly remember His laughter and the steady humming patterns of His voice, along with those diagrams.
For once, I didn’t do much talking.
For once, I was simply content to listen to Him.
Talk less; listen more.
Another odd feature of this interaction was that this discussion which seemed to have lasted for two hours…
actually only lasted 19 minutes.
From 9:00 to 9:19pm