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
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