It's late afternoon. I'm bathing in the golden light of my mind. Ever so slightly, I feel a strange sensation. It's almost unnoticeable but unmistakable. The dome has undocked and is moving. I feel as if my home is no longer secured to the earth; instead it has transformed into a vessel, and it's headed out.
The moment I returned home, everything in tow, we cast off. I set the course for another reality. I am tired of this one. If I have anything to say about this adventure, I want it out of the world. Why not dream of the seemingly impossible?
I quieten myself. I pay attention. Where is this movement coming from? It's Scorpion of the Dome. Haven't had a visit from you in a while. I chuckle to myself, thinking of this world moving through space on the back of a scorpion. But this is not Discworld? Logical brain says certainly the dome can not move out to "space" on the back of a scorpion?
But I'm dreaming the impossible. When one wants to shift realities, a scorpion steed will do just fine. For a brief moment, I worry, might I get stung. But how can a scorpion sting the wind? I have nothing to fear. We move farther into the golden light.
Let's just say that meditation can show you some pretty "crazy" things if you let it. Can I describe the golden light to you? My ongoing relationship with the Golden Goddess of Death, whom I met on the eve of Mr. Dog's definitive journey? I dare not. You will have to visit her yourself. As for my visit, I bring her a momentary taste of time.
The dome is moving in time.
I think of my Aborigine water dreaming painting that has returned to its mirrored pedestal. How I've used it to dream. To move from one position to another. To catch the flow. Is today the culmination of those dreams? I have untethered myself from the definitions of my life. The rope is cast off, I drift away from one timeline, the shore of my beloved Los Angeles fading behind me, while I look ahead, entering a realm outside of time.
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