Electra’s dictionary JM chron/Diving deep into vacuous

It is odd and funny the way the mind goes; the trail of thoughts that lead you ….sometimes down and climbing up walls of unexpected attics 

Because as he drives through our timelined walled highway, I play a mind game with myself. 

I ask myself—find some safe place I know …..some reliable place….a place I would feel best at ease to be

right now 

And, of all places—it is the art warehouse. So as Jörn drives now in silence, and our thoughts are linked—yes, I feel the tickle of his probe….but a latent talent I immediately know….?—I instinctively, and without hesitation, probe back …..and demand the space it provides as I defend the fortress of my mind 

and ….

there we are; it is predictable—the list of locations that require fulfillments ….their list of items with item numbers ….find the items by number; write it down what isle in the massive floor layout that included numerous shelves, upper cubby space, warehouse cubby space, and still to be received by the shipping and receiving desk that belongs to the daytime shipping and receiving staff by the loading dock 

I’m not in the car anymore; I’m there in my space at the warehouse —it’s a work bench made of heavy duty hardware which doubles as the shop’s carpenter and handyman’s work space —and— the PM night shipping desk—mine

Only now it occurs to me—by AM it belonged to Anthony. We passed as he’d be leaving. He’d be punching out. I’d punch in. There by the ordering department office was the punch clock. There was our desk

Why do I think of this now as he drives? 

Time lines 

My eight hour shift…. my work home was that desk. A workbench. But ….

I never much thought about Anthony …. ever

yet we shared the same space. I’d clean up each night/morning when I was done. He’d hardly know I touched an object of his. Knives, razors, staple guns, glue guns and more all neatly replaced and filled up; surface cleaned tidy 

Is that what it is like ….I look at Jörn’s profile and think —

    we inhabit the same space but 

         how we imagine we own it becomes our reality 

why do I think of this now in relation to ….Life and our conceptions of —Reality ….it’s all relative but; isn’t it more necessary to see its relevance to the Self

It’s more about the subjective need to see one’s meaning in one’s relevant space —the other reality is theirs and 

Not actually relevant 

                                   to what you need to do

Electra’s dictionary noir JM chronicles/ thoughts in rewind

It is awhile; I don’t know how long, but it seems I fall into daydream, as though my brain yields the reins and gives up over to some higher conscious mind within. You can see the layers of time in the mountains…. when they cut into them to make the highways, the geological time lines, they exposed the secrets of the earth for all to view…. I watch this go past us as he drives…. They are all different colors, the layers, like sand art, but this is the earth’s past in fingerprint for some of us to get a glimpse of. 

Perhaps watching this hypnotized me, lulled me into another state which from mental weariness it was easy to fall into, but caught by the earthy beauty; a reminder of life…. And the seeming insignificance of …

Only now does it start to sink in; his words….only now do I see how possibly unkind I was but still—I am not quite there emotionally to let all of that through

“Do you know how long I have searched for you?”

Only now do I ….only now….watching the geological lines of time….speed by me….as Jörn drives, grinding his teeth ….his words only now reach me ….like objects that bounce in slow motion, his words ….start to take shape in my thoughts…. What would that mean

Really?

When we first headed out, leaving the property of that creepy home that belonged to my natural father, he had tossed out that incomprehensible question,

“What would you do with a thousand years?” and pausing to look at me as he pulled into the gas station to fuel for our journey to the Adirondaks from the Catskills —just as he opened the driver side door to get out— he looked at me with those Vampire, ice-blue eyes with their bolts of kryptonite and added to the question, “….or more?”arching a pale blonde brow he stared at me, beaming with those bolts into my soul

And now, only now, as I watch the blur of lines speed by I thought about this question

And I then —after a long reverie of thoughts over ….events-of-history …. I thought of him and —what has he seen?

Maybe it was exhaustion from the last few nights…. But I found myself suddenly swept over by what his words meant. The other words. 

….how long he has search

   ….for me

Driving back to ….the dungeon?/Electra’s dictionary noir

I suppose it is the need for “normalcy”, after a great shock ….because I do not question things; I do not even for a moment go there at all even as the frozen snowy scenery’s alarming and desolate beauty should be enough to sober me out of this catatonic state of ….disbelief 

You try to make it normal —or you try to fit your head into how far off the bend this ….all goes 

But then it’s not real. Is it? I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming this. This cannot possibly be ….

be why …. all those strange feelings from the moment….we first met

I literally slap myself. Wake up.

I take my hand and slap the side of my face.

“Duva?”

Jörn is driving. Of course he’s driving. This is all normal, see? We do this all the time…. except when we don’t…. We have those lapses. Lapses where I’ve had enough of his spy games and shut the portcullis….

       And I must think because I’ve missed something ….was it perhaps during our lapses—do they hibernate—? —or have intergalactic meetings to determine the fate of Earth? …. at this point any wild idea I am willing to put on the table to examine…. what things has he been he up to that I have dismissed ….? I mean—clearly I have been missing so much ….Gerald?

“Duva?” Jörn touches my arm…. I get the strangest—strangest ….what is it? It goes like a charge right down to my fingertips. I even watch my index finger jump on its own. I always ….put it up to his effect on me, you know, the way he has this way to just melt my knees as soon as he is near. I’ve tried to shrug it off, I don’t like to admit it; but he has the strangest effect on me and even as we may just say that it is sexual; it would be doing the effect an injustice not to include that the sexual trigger is caused by the other things that ….he does to me. 

I turn my face to the frozen mountains and pull my arm close to me 

No….because it is more now that I realize —he knows what he does. But worse; what he uses. 

Only….these are things I must see

I must integrate Elan’s ….i must integrate my lost memories from the life when I was Elan ….because I still carry ….what we lost and—I know that within all of that loss, heartbreak and pain, I suppose there was anger at him; why did he leave me there; why didn’t he get there in time; why did he let me down….and worse even;was I not enough?—for him to make it in time ….but these are not my thoughts—these are what I recognize as hers—but that I have thrown upon lovers in my own current life, like a self-fulfilling prophesy, all through my life, looking for people who will let me down; it has repeated, I see now looking back at my past; like being in a subconscious loop of self punishment for ….trusting him—a killer; a pirate

I turn to the mountains and look as the chaos of speed smooths the horizon into an impressionist landscape

I take out my phone. I look at my messages. 

I say,

“Gerald has not answered any of my texts,” and now I look at Jörn’s profile. There—I see the nostrils flare ….

He knows I watch him, but he drives in silence now. But as he clenches his jaw, there it is! The glowing blue is illuminated by the cast of the sunlight through clouds, reflected on stark white mountain peaks all around —it glows as if connected by its light source energy 

“When did you start to know?” Jörn asks now

I say, turning back to the road in front of us as he drives,

“it was not a sudden knowing. It was more that I started to realize how much energy I had to put into trying to find reasonable explanations for —too many weird things —that made all the other odd things seem like child’s play once the idea that those odd things allows everyone in this ….to hide the bigger more seriously fucked up thing.”

Jörn says to me….

 he says….

Electra’s dictionary Noir/more unanswered questions and vampire stares

 

Maybe I listened to the wind howling, maybe I just watched the walls. Watched for the shadows on the wall. And maybe I thought about everything. Meeting Jörn in the lobby that very first day; meetings with Gerald ….Gerald ….from my days at the bookstore on Long Island ….it made me go over these details with nagging questions in my head. Did Gerald know Jörn before me? Was his being at the bookstore to meet me part of Jörn’s master plan? But then what of ….Willem??? Are they not thick as thieves? How would it even be possible to hide from Willem….

But this is madness! 

At this point I find myself aware I’ve been in the room upstairs and Jörn built a fire in this fireplace. It is an old bed and the linens smell like an old haunted house. Which only contributes more to this sense of ….

And now I realize what it was—what the feeling was as I pulled up and at first felt excited to be here —that is until I stepped inside. Even as it had hung in the air outside, all around the house was a mood that can best be described as a graveyard. Now I understand that ….it came from the dreams —Elan’s ….memories ….and something here felt like ….the hut ….of how it became her grave and ….now I feel it again 

Did I fall asleep in here? On the bed? I get up off it and brush off my clothes, feeling webs all over me; it freaks me out. I start shaking out my hair and scratching my skin because now it feels I am being eaten alive by a million ants crawling all over me.

“Duva!” it us Jörn in the dark grabbing hold of me 

I don’t know why but just his voice in the darkness pulls me back from the webs 

“I don’t like this room!” I say

He suddenly lifts me and takes me from the room, as swift as lightning, and then we are downstairs again. He brings me over to a sofa that is still covered in storage cloth, like the rest of the living room; he sits down, still holding me in his long arms and drapes his long legs down the length of the sofa, pulling me to wedge with my back against him, my legs in a limb-lock between his. He holds me there.

For awhile we just listen to the wind howl. I think hours went by just like that. No words. I cannot say where my mind went. I think I just stared at nothing. Watched the darkness outside the window ….and looked for the shadows like bats

it was his heartbeat. I realized when it seemed as though morning began to light the room in a faded gray glow—it was his heartbeat ….snd now, again with my back up against him, lulled by the offbeat metronome …. it is a kind of extra power, like an allure I just never was aware of—was this all my own delusion to or did he always in past hide it well? Until now.I thought of that blue glow beneath his skin I’d never noticed before ….why did I notice it now? Was it always there and I never saw it or, was this something new or 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says now

“You mean, you can’t read my mind?” I ask him

“It doesn’t work like that,” he sighs with just the smallest hint of frustration 

“What am I thinking?” and finally, now, I do look at him. I have to turn myself around in order to, but I need to see his face. His eyes. His pulse. 

But my intention to confront Jörn, straight in the eye —got eclipsed by his kryptonite. Oh those vampire eyes, like the icy chill of the Scandinavian Sea, powerful enough to capsize your very life ….

“What about Gerald?” is the only reasonable question I can start with

“You and Gerald should talk ….” he sighs heavily glancing away

“Is that an answer?” I ask this as I pull his jaw to look at me. 

He looks

And now this time I keep my head and stare into them,

“Willem?”

He is the master of the staredown. We stay locked like that quite awhile. 

Perhaps I read his mind. Perhaps I just know him better than either of us know ….

because I find some answers in his stare 

but know these aren’t even the important questions ….are they?

Eventually he lets out a long heavy sigh and he says,

“it’ll likely be ok to drive soon so, we can talk on the drive back.”

“The drive back?” I ask. Even as I should be indignant about his assuming I’d just automatically go with him, the urgent need to leave here makes me forget that detail at that moment but I say, “I drove here—the rental, remember?”

“Yes, I assumed we’d take that” he starts to say

As I ask at the same time,

“drive back where? The city?”

“—didn’t drive out here—I was dropped off; or I should say, I jumped off.”

But …. 

He makes a hand gesture; his index finger pointing up, he twirls it around: helicopter 

And I recall now….his image from the video monitors in the cage back in the dungeons at the Adirondak property 

Electra’s dictionary Noir/the man with the vampire eyes, left in suspense

“Do you have any idea how long I have searched for you?”

He says this to me!

It was unfair. He should not push me so….

I do think I actually passed out. Even as I think I have always known…surly….?but it is worse as when he says it as it is more than I am able to take all at once….the pounding in my head of a million terrifying questions….things I really fear to know and maybe ….fear 

And still the storm rages outside. Only now do I realize there is some light from the lamps,

“The generator,”he says, as though he can read my mind

This thought makes me paranoid. Only I am now thinking of, of all people—Elsa! And I blurt out, as if she is somehow some moral compass,

“Your mother?” I ask him….and stare into his vampire eyes that glow that weird lunar blue, like…his pulse….that only lately I can see….like a jellyfish or a moonstone, it glows —blue under his skin with a kind of ticking, like a clock, that is his heartbeat; it beats in double time, though, like a metronome; slightly out of synch ….it is hypnotic…and as lovely as ….his —opus, and like a kind of otherworld sense, it has a lovely poetry ….that drugs my head

It is as if he holds me there ….suspended

He sucks my ….thoughts

He stares into me….but I don’t find I care to resist him; why….have I wasted so much time?—but quick as that thought comes, it goes away….I am waiting for his answer

“You don’t remember her?”he asks me staring into my eyes and ….as I fall within them, we are there again through time— just one glimpse!

I see her. Them. All of them….

I shake him off and stare at him,

“That was —her? But….is not how I dreamed it…all of you….? But….”

I look at him,

“… I don’t understand….Vargie….?”with a sickness like copper in my mouth the words fall out on their own with muscles controlled by some other force which knows the vowels better than me; they say them through my vocal chords; yet I feel the weight of their measure within my soul, “Jag kommer tillbaka före midnattssolen …” and like a stopper thus pulled from my very life force, I feel myself start to faint as though that very day is again upon us where I lay in his arms as we are now….it is too much to have to know it all again and wail this out to him, “…too late….”and it starts to go dark

But there is something that holds me there. Something that keeps me. Suspends me….awhile

Electra’s dictionary Noir/starting to see the light of the vampire eyes

 

And…. so it is a long while that I stand by the window and watch the storm. A very long while. I hardly notice what I see. I do not even think I was aware of where I was or where my mind was. It is something like just feeling aware that …. You observe. But not as much comprehensive of any relation of how what you observe connects to anything. There is the sense that, while I know Jörn is somewhat near, it seems, not of little consequence, but— not threatening the inner crypt at the moment; I don’t question this, you see, because I am far away…far away from myself—or rather ….far from the world

I do not hear Jörn come back in from outside, even as I do; I do not register it; I do not register when he brings in the logs; when he goes to the fireplace to lay them; I do not register the sounds of the scraping nor the eventual crackling….of the fire

I do not….because I am not there. But we are the same. This moment I have already known….the fire….the heat….the night I first came to the h—

I get a strange head rush. What was I just thinking? I start to fall backwards from feeling lightheaded but he stops me from hitting the floor

If I close my eyes…. I think this, you see? I think, no,  if I keep my eyes closed like this now, shut them tight…then out there is not the Catskills with a raging winter storm; though indeed a storm, but another one and with it a sea as bitter cold as what blows outside but we are not here; we are not now….we are not here…and how is it possible —hide?from…. How? It is complete insanity to think that he’s kept this for so many life times….

Life times….but why should it affect me as though my very blood feels drained of me even as it also quickens me like an electric charge having it around me….?

Gerald…. He must know …he must know more than he has ever said, there is no other way to explain unless—well, maybe he doesn’t— maybe his seeing is not able to process things of such a nature

Such a nature; what am I saying—thinking—do I really believe that Jörn….could be the actual same man—not reincarnated but—the same physical being as—the one from the dream of the boat—the dream which has haunted me most of my life that …. Only after years of searching for answers and searches into  through exploring documentations of spiritual experiences recounted by individuals who have known memories from other life times, backed up by details these individuals could not have known without research of ancient history have I come to accept certain things 

Certain things…. Which now cause me to freeze suspended….and questioning my sanity

Obtuse? Have I been blind or just ….purposely deluding myself? 

“Duva?”he says

But it is as though even his prompting tone of a question comes from down a very long hallway, like a hallway that echoes and all sets of normal are thrown in a ricochet off the warping walls ….like wormholes of time it is this that thought that causes me to fall back against him because I am spinning as though in a chasm of being overwhelmed of both thoughts and emotions I do not fully understand