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?”

Til að hleypa ljósinu inn verður þú að auðmýkja þig….before the grace of God go I 

Scandi Noir Vampire eyes (jmmuse chron)

I sit there with the schnapps looking out into the wintry forest and I 

    …. I think about the power of words 

   those things you tell yourself ….those things people say to you 

those words that haunt and repeat and I wonder over the effect of 

    saying much much less 

say less ….don’t say, don’t ever say too much out in the world as I worry about words — ones that hurt me 

so many words have hurt me so much and I find I prefer to let it go, I feel ready to give up this martyr haircoat, I’m ready to be free 

How Josef smoothed my mind before ….it did something to me within ….that place I forgot so long ago ….and so as I look out into the cold frozen Adirondack mountains it occurs to me about eternity and what it means as timelines 

My mother always used to say, “I have been here before,” whenever we visited Paris and the first time she ever saw it. She seemed to know streets and carried the way when we explored down them knowing already where they’d lead to. It is interesting how they say the “connection to the other realm” sense runs in families and usually mother to daughter the trait is passed. This is true in our family line among certain females usually the youngest daughter gets it but it shouldn’t surprise me that someone like me would finally find her soul mate only to find he is a vampire 

I can laugh about it now; isn’t that something? Maybe this means I am recovering from the shock …. I mean, all this time he has been a vampire —why should this change my opinion of him? I’m not that narrow minded. It was just the shock….you know—so weird, I just went into hyper vigilance mode; my go to reaction….but I’ve been already so close to him, it would be almost prejudice to not try and see his side 

I know that. Of course. It is just that it is unfair he never bothered to try harder to show me his real and true honest self 

that is what hurts because I never let people in but the little he got of me was more than anyone else got so —I really think I deserved more in return for sharing an honesty of self ….I feel so cheated ….and this is why I still struggle with looking at him ….facing him …. Like it was all such a lie and I feel played —and I resent that but no—I cannot say! —even though my emotions matter too, don’t they?

It is now that I hear the nearby chair bumped and look up expecting Josef —only it is Jörn 

It is a moment I am caught off guard when I see him— it is the frozen white of the mountains covered in snow; it is the way he is looking st me; it is the way he he stands there ….like a golden god in the moonlight, his Nordic raw boned face and those vampire blue eyes like kryptonite that can burn indelibly right through your soul….it was the dye of thst blue ….the woad ….mixed with indigo ….just right if done on the full moon with a goat’s urine….snd why do I remember that….? The dye came from his trades ….

I touch his shirt—the Lycra sticks to my hands as I stand up and face him and ….i am just caught up in him, lost in his eyes that are that otherworldly shade of unearthly glowing blue in the moonlight 

As I hold up my walls I feel him reach inside my thoughts….he is showing me ….some of the parts I lost ….

For a strange moment it is as if I am balanced between two realities …. a real kind of Einstein-Rosen bridge—I am almost suspended and hover over the precipice between all that is ‘normal’ and ….whatever this is; knowing a world of something considered supernatural; vampires —and they just blend among normal people all the time without people knowing it ….?

Without me knowing it….

But really? Really! I mean…. I had to know all the time, didn’t I— I remember thinking “he’s either Jack the Ripper or a vampire….”

Jörn suddenly laughs at me 

He laughs in that way that works like weird pagan magic and this time when he bends down to kiss me, I don’t stop him, because this time it is with all of my soul in that hut in his arms again—it is him, he did come back for me ….

Epocs & Schnapps lapse

….And maybe it is the schnapps

but I find myself thinking about someone from my early childhood….Annie  —and maybe it is this way on a much larger scale for all of them

                                                    like going down an Einstein-Rosen bridge through time

but as I sit there I am not thinking about vampires or what is even happening presently…. no I am somewhere else thinking about many years ago like a life time ago as a little girl and time is so strange 

People say Florida is not really the South as it’s all owned by the Yanks but considering one hundred years is just twenty years more than a lifespan. How much closer it brings the American Civil War into a present reality. Because the locals before the Yanks arrived had their roots already there and these were the ones New Yorker’s kids went to school with and were taught by; these were the locals who got hired as “maids” and “gardeners”. And who were these people and where did they learn all that from 

So….sitting there looking out the window watching for deer or coyote my thoughts drift to Annie and maybe it is the schnapps ….but inwardly I start to cry— only one tear escapes as I keep my eyes set upon the dense forest…. Why do I think of her, from a life time —it feels—ago. When it feels I’ve lived so many lifetimes in this one 

She was the one I would see first after school. She was the one who asked how school was. The one who always gave me the best advice and the one who saw the family charade for what it was but never uttered a word on it. And always I was called “Miss” by her before my name and she spoke with a very thick southern twang, the kind with the long drawn out drawl so a sentence could dangle you in suspense for sometimes awhile if she was ironing. For a very long time I never asked her why she did that; called me “Miss” before my name. Then one day I did. And she told me about her life and her family’s past on a slave plantation (in Georgia). She seemed old to me. Maybe she was. She had grown children. Her black lined face showed the years and her black hair, always neatly pinned, was coursed with gray. I still didn’t know why she said she called me “Miss” out of respect and I remember saying so because to me she was more like a mother ….

you go back to a point of reference within where you might have recalled a glimpse of comfort ….her hugs always made everything right and looking back I know she favored me and perhaps now I understand why….it was with her the day on the public bus when they pointed st me, the day my mother forgot to get me, the day my notorious father died it was; Annie brought me to her house for the one and only time I ever saw it….it was in the ghetto. I remember holding her hand in her kitchen as she called all my family’s emergency numbers

It makes me wonder about Jörn —that he should love me ….so faithfully through time ….how could I be so blind realizing