Noir/Of guides as light (Electra’s dictionary, JM muse chronicles) 9 Jun 2020

I watch the moon. it is where I find my peace….

—Electra

*****

“How old were you when you first realized that you were psychic?” Jörn asks me when he finds me staring at the moon

“I don’t think I’m psychic,” I say caught by surprise by his sudden appearance as he got another phone call and my thoughts became so still and so dark

“Well, since I have known you I have heard you say things ....and write about them too —before they happened....” he looks at me with a strange expression; as if — no, I don’t understand his look....”It seems sometimes like madness or jibberish —like you are still dreaming or lost in thought,” he says, “but then a day later it happens....” he watches my eyes as he says this as if looking for the answer  and he shudders suddenly

“Am I so creepy, Jörn?” I suddenly chuckle at him ....but, he is right. It is just not something I mention to anyone.

He still looks intently into me with his brows creased and that stare he does

“You surprise me, Jörn. You who are so logical and rational asking about this,” I say

“I went to your psychic friend didn’t I?” he asks me “why do you say it’s such a surprise? Because I’m Swedish?”

I laugh at him,
“yes.”

“We invented paganism—“ he says

“No, you didn’t,” I laugh some more, “tell that to the Druids!”

“So....?” he shrugs at me and sits beside me on the deck where I watch the moon

“It is more like .... I get visions, it isn’t like ‘all knowing of things’ although .... I feel a lot of it in here,” I take his hand and place it on my abdomen, “I can feel it— people too; I feel beneath their surface when they are in front of me physically .... how old? Always. It’s always been a part of me and I thought everyone was like this. I used to answer people’s thoughts until I realized people resent it so I learned not to keep doing that ....”

“So, your dreams about ....”

“Oh. You mean—“ but I stop to look into him and have to pull back and take his hand where it lays still against me. I take his hand but watch his eyes as I do and touch along the length of his fingers to press his fingertips against my lips and close my eyes as I recall the dream and put my forehead then into his hand and against my cheek then open my eyes. “Yes.... it was like that when I saw you the first time. The feeling connected instantly to the dream. But why do you ask me now after all this time? You never ask me things like this.”

He puts his fingers through mine as he leans against the outside wall of the house where we sit and looks up at the moon and finally says,

“just because I don’t talk about things does not mean I don’t think them. Or feel them. And these are such strange times .... duva.... those things you think about .... and write about .... maybe I should tell you that —I’m glad you do. And maybe I need that about you.”