Fyrsti vordagurinn og við höfum snjóstorm. gleðilegt vor

More family smörgås/My VampireLord chronicles

Amidst all the smörgass family dark matter, 

….i should admit now, i have certain strange quirks —and like the puzzle of the chicken or the egg—

   So I sink down in my chair as the Swedish is flung around the Folkmoot and 

to thus explain —among the laundry list of my dsmv cataloguing of personality registered flagged red my more amusing side kicks is OCD —but mine is its own peculiar category as it stems partial —here is the debate —from my mother ….or is it actually trait dna inherited? Well, anyway —

It’s an artist thing. A kind of discomfort —aesthetics ….it is like rubbing a cat the wrong way so— I get actual headaches if the color balance in a room is off—to begin with the freakishness of my oddity ….then the balance of things as objects around me—it will put me on edge if I find it extremely off; some inner optic scope in my odd little brain; sensory nerves or whatever it is —but it’s right at the inner eye spot that I feel tingle, so call it whatever you like; a side effect of being psychic maybe. 

So I sit there in the schnapps staring out the window as the Vikings surround me finding myself now mostly annoyed that the entire color scheme in the room is completely off 

So what do I do? 

Are they singing a Viking folk song now? 

I don’t know— but I get up and go straight over to the off putting wrong color —it’s that awful color of borscht —a horrid purple pink like vomit medicine —and sweep!!! off it goes!!! as I head straight for the kitchen trash bin to end it ….put it out of its misery…..

Suddenly it occurs to me the singing has stopped 

then whispers in Swedish ….then a loud stage whisper is spoken (in English for my benefit?),

“she’s had a lot of schnapps Elsa —dear—he-he….and you still owe her quite a lot of apologies if you want to go back a life time?”

Yuck…..

     I’ve shoved it in the leek soup’s remains in the garbage—what a hideous scarf!!! It occurs to me now though—only now….that I am drunk. It was a dream up until this point. Please understand. 

No really, I did her a favor….it was a hideous scarf 

La buée sur la vitre

 

Il y a cette peur si triste que tu ne m'aies peut-être jamais vu

Je crains que, peut-être, tu n'aies jamais regardé dans ma direction, pas du tout

Et cela me semble triste.

Peut-être sera-t-il encore possible, un jour, d'être véritablement vu par toi.

Parce que je t'ai toujours vu.

Et cela ne m'a toujours pas fait peur.

Seulement, je pense mériter un regard bien plus long cette fois-ci.

keys, legends & rings….come with me if you dare to

that doorway through….

whisper out past the apocalyptic emptiness

as I gaze into the scrying pool these letters like …. like magic suddenly appear ….

c s lewis d m lewis …. 

I find my way 

a short aside/Electra’s dictionary

“I left my body lying somewhere in the sands of time”*

It’s as though Lois Lane has been writing my blog, I think now as I am being drawn to the dining room table ….not realizing everyone else has joined us; there is Elsa at the other head of the table and there is Hanna and Andres…. as I think back to a moment years ago at Gerald’s by the Met, one of the times when he regressed me ….things from that memory—the family gathering I remember things I shared with Gerald from that; so many deeply personal things about myself with him over the years and about Jörn —and again think about Gerald and why hasn’t he replied to my texts…. and I feel like such a blind idiot for not seeing what was always right in front of me

But sit down near Josef who sits at the head, like at the Fölkmoot as Jörn flanks my right and even this feels familiar but still

caught between plains of time….

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=NtBwVWWa3Ss&si=rBNYiRzV_VxLP5Xt

….how funny, it seems, despite being the author of my own story in blog— I am the last to know the hero of the story is a vampire 

when it is clear that everybody else in my story has known all along 

*3 Doors Down, “Kryptonite”

Electra’s dictionary vampire noir/at the hall of baldr

 

I am caught between two duel realities of consciousnesses 

At first I don’t know what’s happened 

I hear things from memory in my mind’s hearing— I hear the words said 

“But what is the anger defending????!!!!”

The phrase holds me like some kind of spell ….or riddle….? it plays a game with my defenses ….it challenges my very ….grip on ….survival …..

Only ….it was not just his ….

     Kiss

….his kiss….it seems almost it is a kind of extra sense….they have. But it is connected to something very human—more so even. It is not ….I sense ….something he can always control; it is easily able to be compromised to react if —stirred ….deeply enough ….by something ….or someone ….and I cannot get a moment to fully process these thoughts well enough but …. I am also having a kind of astral body experience —but almost inverted—I feel as more connected to some inner meaning …. I feel more whole within ….it wasn’t just his kiss, per se, it was the infusion of something real that he felt inside himself ….something directed at me that ….he could not control —and the strange intensity on the frequency in which he exists on —it is as though struck like a tuning fork ….the vibrations ….through my brain waves ….struck ….like that and ….

as though utterly awoken 

And the strange reaction of feeling reconnected  to the whole of myself ….

Again as he kisses me, in that moment of the meshing of lives like pieces of a puzzle completing a picture 

….I hear again “but what is the anger defending?!!!!”

The “reason” steps out of me like a shadow sliced off to sit like Rodin’s ‘Thinker’

I am at once back in his arms and the scent of the hides fill my head….all this just as he kisses me….I feel it all, the memories we shared; our world; our comedy; our….pictures in the sand ….I ….do not just remember ….I feel it….I feel again that night under the stars ….I recall ….it was the first time….I drew a circle around us in the sand under the full moon, I spoke the incantation—it was beautiful ….that night under the stars….the stars….the stars ….? I ….drew a circle ….

I drew a circle ….and slowly as he kisses me there

 before the frosty backdrop from a window view of a frozen land ….

I recall that I drew a circle around us under a full moon ….

This sudden memory occurs as I grip onto Jörn’s neck, I twist my fingers in his long hair caught in a leather tie….as his mind forces me to see more and all of it 

“But what is the anger defending?!!!!”

Again and again I hear these words 

And this time when Jörn asks, his mouth neatly completing his oral ownership of my mouth with a regretful ending peck,

“what is the anger defending?”

I understand 

      I understand ….like that rusty toolbox. It has just a hammer and a wrench you can’t spin the dial of but there it is—to swing it at the blind unknown 

      caught

in the treadmill ….and lost in a maze ….where they keep changing the hedges —so, finding the pattern is just a way to distract the Celf ….but it isn’t their maze it is Celf created which often has been the silly riddle which tricked the super consciousness ….

It is a moment that is quick but also an eternity is spent in the mental scapes he said into my brain with his Dracula powers, there was no argument within me to object to why and how we we all standing there….. there was just the sudden awakening to the miraculousness of ….seeing the man with the vampire eyes from my haunting dreams again —and awaking to what was behind those doors within me kept locked in darkness 

Only it was dreaded pain —loss of life and horror 

What is the anger defending ….

“Do you know how hard it was knowing what happened to you with that evil man your mother was married to and be forced to just watch from the sidelines?”

The words hit like tiny splinters

Then he says,

“Retnuh Nivek back in that college dorm his hands on your throat torturing you, raping you and you think I believe you when you say you never think of those things? Who was there for you? Who comforted you—even after your rape, you never even went to anyone to say what happened ….how did you function after dying ….after having your hands broken from fighting for your life just to breathe? How can you tell me you never think about that? There has been no one to comfort or protect you, so you always had to—defend your fortress…where all the crumbs lead….Why you can’t breathe sometimes—how your second husband only exaggerated your fears of falling asleep ….afraid he’d attack you in your sleep ….you think I don’t know how the nightmares haunt you still….? You know I read all your files Dr. Rothschild had on you, all her notes….I have copies of everything and have had for years; I studied their conclusions and how everything fit with ….the past….the past past….even as you have the family drama which caused some but the recurring themes are ….uncanny —they call it hyper vigilance ….and who could blame you for what we have seen, duva….but maybe —perhaps, it is time —yes? to set down that shield and armor and sit at the Viking table and drink to our fellow demons in the hall of Baldr?”