Time after time; Electra’s dictionary noir, jm chron

I type into my phone as thoughts wander, and still skirt the Dracula subject —I’m not quite ready

Time~ among Jörn’s world does really flow differently, it fools with the mind. It is as if the world out there is some outer galactic place 

It is possible I am just quite mad or that is only a symptom of —what Dr. Rothschild had opened my mind to; Dr. Brian Weiss’s best selling book Many Lives Many Masters is a profound journey past the white light

Why do I think of this now? Brian Weiss is a real psychiatrist and he had a patient who he was trying to help get over some serious phobias that were ruling her life. So, it begins with this account and how he used hypnosis to open her mind through unconscious awareness. This was how Dr. Rothschild had suggested to try hypnosis on me 

But what happens under hypnosis is, he asks her to go back to the original source of the phobia—he asks her to try to identify when this phobia began. The shock is her reply. As it turns out she says it was in Greece and during some time BC. Apparently  the woman was not well educated. So when the doctor asked for details of her surroundings or what food she ate or how food is prepared the woman gave a full detailed explanation for how things were prepared with ingredients not at all familiar to her locally, and more still—he asked for many details which he later researched to see if things added up. Being a university of Miami doctor, he had a lot of historical colleges who had access to information supporting what the woman described, Dr. Weis is stunned. Not only did things she said add up, but once out of hypnosis she had no memory of any of this. And he never told her because she was, in this life, a Roman Catholic.

He cured her phobias but she never knew how. And it had to do with a childhood trauma that happened from a previous incarnation. 

The doctor who wrote the book is a doctor of science and he had trouble believing what was happening. He was not a believer in the concept before this occurred. 

He was able to cure her of all her complaints and then he had future patients he regressed to help deal with deep rooted phobias. 

People are so complex—and I think this watching Jörn from the bedroom window shoveling snow…. and it is like I can see him —through Elan’s eyes in moments when my thoughts go unharnessed 

The mind and psyche are not just a brain with cerebral chemicals —it is much more 

And I suppose now as I think of headshrinkers in doctors offices ….their assessments and their labels —those mental tests they make you take when you’re on ‘the radar’ ….my laundry list of diagnosis that is as thick as a text book —and the man in the white coat who runs those tests looks at you like you’re a guinea pig and the somber look as he says, “unfortunately at the top of the list is borderline personality disorder too….tsk—one of the hardest to cure tsk….” Tsk tsk indeed

but as it was my field of study, I was able to combat his remarks calmly and correct his approach  —and pointed out it is just an umbrella term to make their jobs simpler by shoving you into a convenient box, 

but the human mind is far more complicated to be sliced up like everyone is the same, like sushi rolls on a conveyer belt and write in their files in neat bold letters with precision  numbers of what degree of a freak you are and the fun part; their candy box; the head shrinking drugs forced and applied—for their convenience ~borderline personality ‘disorder’ (there were a lot of other nutter names in that file for me, he was so pleased!)just needs to be better understood; that is the ones labeled as such need to be better understood and not forced to uniform to the world’s convenience 

And as I watch Jörn now and feel that other landscape come into my mental view I wonder how Dr. Weiss would assess once considered from Elan’s influences —often you see a tree with long branches that somehow grew around and through the wires of a fence. Experiences force us to bend and adapt and react but maybe other people who make up the ordinary world are not able to grasp the whys and the what’s of behavior so they need neat labels with neat prescribed answers—because for lab coat doctors, it is an abbreviation for having to think critically for themselves. People are not statistics; we’re individuals ….with many pasts

Electra’s noir penned confessions

I have to confess, I have been unusually sexually aroused lately —and the most intense ache seems to overwhelm me 

it must be impending  spring coming, but, I don’t usually say, but I do often get these phases—but it is different now, somehow 

more urgent the need; a necessary need that burns deep within me —by afternoon I find myself lulled by the washer; on spin …..I lean against the machine as it vibrates against my sex 

    it is only later, once the tremors have finally quit and that need finally satiated ….that I realize ….Jörn has joined me

joined me ….his timing exact that I think I actually pass out 

of worshipping ancient gods

I always enjoyed sucking him off; watching his member become erect before my eyes, how poised and firm he stands before me—at my command ….suck—mmmm licked, pop ohhhhh it is a dream 

he wakes me, is looking down at me,

“Duva…..”

like a golden god he comes 

    

      to me

 Hvar ertu? Ég er svo hrædd/ur.

Af hverju segirðu ekki að minnsta kosti hvað er í gangi? Það er grimmt að segja mér það ekki.

Electra’s dictionary noir; jm chron/diary thoughts; awakening to feeling Whole

The clarity I value more than anything. I lost that for such a long time; I could not find my thoughts; I could not find my connection —to the whole of my consciousness. 

I compare that to now. Waking up from that. After years. Of numbness. They forced prescriptions on me; four different psychiatric prescriptions. During that time— the years …. of sedation that are addictive —join us; they beckon….i lost everything whilst under their drugs; family; daughter; rights; sexual urges; passion; art; focus—I was a programmed value; their comfortable success story— neutered and numb; bloated and forgetting what me I meant to fight for 

But Jörn ….has never faltered, has never let these things that trapped me cloud his value of me 

How ungenerous I have been to him —I start to think….only no—I couldn’t fathom until now his ….steadfast and infinite loyalty 

It is like waking from anesthesia —the dulling sedative of sleepwalking zombies which the world so often seems but —with him 

All the years of searching and wishing to be seen…. how silly I have been; obtuse 

Alas, there is that sense of reconcile —only for once in my life I find still…. the need not to put all my thoughts into words or ….even think….

     because I find for now; right now— I prefer just being ….and feeling one with my whole Celf 

Electra’s dictionary Noir; jm chron/Waits&measures

Thoughts move more swiftly lately

The view I have come to love more from my glass foyer ice cubed shaped ad hoc studio.

    I suppose it is the permanence that, in its quiet way, works like a gentle fingered massage to my skull —Jörn never has to say a single word —I feel all his acutely and ….he does this consciously without intrusion 

And I appreciate this space —it isn’t that he allows it, it is that he understands it 

something I have still as yet to; but that is for another moment

no instead, I think about those minute and rather forgettable things I think of —the space of time in between events and there is my peace because it is in these such moments I think of in past when I recall being open ….to letting him in 

one has to be able to, 

the shields willingly laid down 

and when the inner Celf knows —this one’s ok, just feel the energy

How long has he searched for me? How many lifetimes with his one life time has he ….longed? ….but it is without sense to myself, it is only with the desire to fully understand him ….and once I remove myself from this equation I understand a little better ….and in time….i shall ask about the weight he has carried through the ….wait

Electra’s dictionary noir/more diary continued

Perhaps it is serenity I have sought 

    while it has seemed as though I could not find my way in this world —now I do; now this unsaid truth has been whispered to me, all is well within

my north 

    has always been where it always was 

Who I am— and all of myself fully I’ve walked that tightrope all the way and —how very blessed to know ….Jörn knows the whole of me 

….and more 

      to be seen is one thing but to be fully and utterly 

               loved and desired for ….perhaps a scope of things I cannot now comprehend 

That question again echoes …. “Do you know how long I have searched for you?”

Like some kind of indelible ink burned into my mind, he repeats this question to me for days now; I am haunted by his words 

It is too much—a lifetime of loss is more than enough for me—how many has he known….?

and—that nerve; that gut reaction of an empath —I am too much to the core of my Celf gutted ….by this very tragic thought 

Electra’s dictionary/diary noir

Dearest Celf,

today without expectations of anything, it is a better day; I do not probe into my thoughts, I do not wonder so much about how many rings are within Jörn’s tree and all that this involves ….instead, I have a better day 

We have been back a few days, and while I did dread having to face the family drama, perhaps considering the impact of —things ….they have given me space 

When we first pulled up again to the property, I was struck by the sense of how much it resembled ….the long houses from my dreams —my ….visions….or —memories— I suppose it is time to accept —but still, I just choose not to take it all full on in all that it means ….and choose to do so without censorship of thoughts I ….let it

I always resisted the memories —I see now. The fear was there always with the whispers in my dreams 

Only as we pull up this time—the barn house with the two story plate glass window and the clear view of Jörn’s grand piano —I blink twice because I think, looking past the house, that I see double. 

But no…. 

And only as Jörn pulls the car around to the side of the house by the kitchen entrance do I see—there, past the sauna house —there! where the old original farmhouse used to be—is now —another barn house! It is the twin of the one in front —exactly the same—and ….like this—in parallel, it is de ca vu —almost ghostlike, I had to blink as they look like the ….memories; the long houses past the hut—they are lined next to each other the way they would so often appear in ….those dreams. 

When you think of time as endless —you start to comprehend Jörn’s family’s behavior 

   and I realize the space they give me now is but a second to them 

They now occupy the newly built replica house like the one we all had lived in together before. And as the damage done by the assassins has now long been successfully removed, I hardly recall the way it had looked after that horror went down. 

Somehow, whether, it is from the sense of those other memories, or how well it holds off the howling stormy winds, it is like a fortress to be within walls like this again. And I guess I choose not to question why ….things like—why do I matter so much to Jörn? ….his “Duva….”

No, I do not bother with these kinds of questions, as it no longer is relevant to the big picture ….and even Jörn has given me space. Space to think and to write and even paint ….as the farmhouse had been where I’d gone in past to paint, now there is a better space with natural light as it is the open foyer under the stairs with floor to ceiling glass walls that behold an Adirondak mountain forest of frozen white

but there are screens which I added to enclose the space and set the easel and mediums upon the slate floor and for awhile I am glad to just paint trees as I think or don’t think and ….let thoughts wander 

And of course without meaning to…. I start to scry 

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 

Dreams Everlasting part 2/Electra’s dictionary Noir

 

What was it he just said….? I find I am stuck on other thoughts….but his words repeat in echo in my mind. I keep thinking about ….the time when first I ever saw him

My mind is stuck there. Why am I focused on ….the bats?

Because it was the first weird sense that I got. I remember now I thought of Bella Lugosi. That was the sense; the very first impression—how strange I suddenly can remember every detail of this….but I have not thought of this for so long

What did he just say?

….obtuse

“We’re not going anywhere,” he says now after having once again walked to the window and peered into the darkness, which now glows in that strange light of light through fog. Is it the moon?

Again, my mind is in some weird loop. I feel I am not here nor—am I there…no I am thinking now of Gerald— so many odd little things. I get a chill and shudder.

I feel something heavy thrown over me. I look up at him. By the scent of it, I know what it is

It is a hide

Instantly I am warmed by it. But it plays tricks with my head. I should be thinking about all these paradoxes…. Gerald… 

Jörn, has been watching me. I now look up at him—but i am not seeing him as…. I am not seeing him in the present now; it is something else….it is something I know and so very well; I have known it in dreams in ….both present and —past….

“You can be,” he says again and paces back over to me….he looks down at me and reaches to touch me

It is as if it all happens in slow mo…. Overlapped… the fire pit….the welding pot…I see this instead ….but I am as if hypnotized to his vampire eyes, they glow like kryptonite; they glow like the blue of a moon

It is as if time is suspended. I came to the Catskills to get away; to think; to clear my head. But the building—the renovated country home of my late biological father’s ….feels like a tomb; it is so empty and void of anything living or lifelike. 

Pulling up to the property had felt thrilling. At first— but, to be honest, I felt like ….I had exposed my deepest place of weakness; what it was/is I am unable to put into words. Just a sense that there was something very signific a trigger point, I suddenly feel; like a reminder to something else

What did he just say?

“Oh, the winter storm….” 

Only, it feels so insignificant to the storm brewing within. I move myself from where I have been frozen for long moments of feeling such a strange sense. I walk the longest way around the room before I reach him by the window again; the hide around my shoulders…. But i just look at him from the corner of my eye and then walk the length of the room in a kind of circle back to the place I had been standing. Only now do I really comprehend that I stand by the mantle of the fireplace

He glances over at me,

“There’s dry wood in the shed, I noticed before—the power lines might be damaged, that’s why there is no heat or electric,” he says this as he walks towards me slowly, all the while he is focused on my eyes. When he reaches me, he is just inches away, his eyes intent upon mine as his bore into me like kryptonite; he says,

“I’ll go get some logs, but he stays there a moment before he says, “to build a fire….”

Maybe it was the words. Maybe it was the sense. But i knew we were not really there—not really….and the sick sense I needed to know what the shroud was hiding which so long I have been hiding under….

I force mayself away from him. I walk to the window. It is this knowing that draws me to look ….at the hide in the glow of the light….the scent fills my head but it is like a wrench in my soul that I feel it as I see the dark old stain of old faded blood that colors the hide a ghostly hue of alizarin crimson

Electra’s dictionary noir/ more bats in the belfry

I find myself feeling a moment of dèjá vu. My head feels so fogged that I feel the need to shake my head as if to clear it. And bang my head on the wall I'm pinned to as the motion throws me with more force than I had meant to 

It doesn’t hurt. It more wakes me up, on a level 

Jörn drops his grip on me and walks back to the window to peer out; his long legs move like a predator seeking his target and ….that thought makes me think about memories of Elan; Elan’s memories that is 

I feel an ice cold chill, as if I put my hand in ice water ….i think of the boat now when I think of water ….cold ….so cold 

I look over at Jörn who seems bored now with the view into the darkness of night. He turns to watch me thoughtfully crossing his arms across his chest. He wears his Swedish trench coat pushed up his long forearms and I see his muscles flex there. As if he is thinking of crushing something but his eyes are on me 

“What is that word you always like to say about yourself?” and he smiles as he starts to walk towards me thoughtfully 

“I don’t know which one you mean….” I say 

“‘Obtuse’ —that’s the one…. It is interesting ….” he smiles that way 

     ….and I think of him as I remember him from thst night so long ago ….and when the shadows of bats first came to me ….when we first met—first met?

He stops near me and cups my face by my chin as he studies my eyes,

“you can be.”

Electra’s dictionary Noir/the man with the vampire eyes

“So why did you follow me here?”

I watch as he walks to the window, he looks out into the night’s darkness, then he turns and looks at me, 

“do you have any idea what is really going on here?” 

“The shadows on the wall…. started to give it away,” I say and back away a little 

“The shadows?” his gaze even in the dark room seem to glow like kryptonite 

“They look like bats on the wall,” I say but I keep moving back from him even as he notices I do, “at first I thought ….”

He backs me up to the wall and pins me there, his hand going up the back of my neck as he twists his fingers in my hair to hold me there,

“what did you think, duva?”

“I thought I dreamed them but I realized ….you’ve been spying on me with drones all this time!” I reach to free his grasp 

He laughs, 

“you really think I have drones watching you? You were closer to accurate when you were dreaming —what if I told you ….no, let’s not do this here, let’s not talk about it now ….”

“What?” but I notice something odd about his face which I’d never noticed before …. “Jörn ….why did you ask about Gerald?” I say this as I watch his pulse beating blue through his skin and reach to turn his face to me ….his eyes …. “Jörn ….” but now I hear it, something in his breathing and watch that strange glow of electric and I whisper, “the time in the stairwell too …. but ….what is it—it’s something, isn’t it—I mean —why bats?”

Suddenly he grins in that way as he watches my eyes as if expecting me to say something but ….the words never form

I will come to you in your time of need~I am your angel of mercy/e.d.noir

I will come to you in your time of need~I am your angel of mercy 

“I had a weird dream,” I tell Jörn

“So you decided to trade one New York mountain destination for another, was it meant to throw me off? Because you shouldn’t underestimate my tracking skills, you should know that by now,” he says

“Why do you imagine everything is about you?” I ask him 

We are in the upstate home in the Catskills that, yes, I fled to in order to get away and maybe it was to get away from Jörn and his games and his drama or maybe it was just to get away 

Even still it was true what I said 

“What was the dream? Did you tell Gerald?” Jörn walks slowly towards me 

I move in another direction,

“do you see the masonry is completed from the last time we were here. Do you remember when we were here? Do you remember that day Jörn?”

rebirth of Venus

a long abandoned false self, not even noticed, frees me of it 

I only feel it in my awareness, as I feel it, as it disintegrates 

why did I let it cling for so long…. I wonder at its flimsy significance 

~that was never me

1st teaser look at reworking the Viking swords