A few year ago I released a memoir style fiction called Perilous Flight. It was a coming of age thing that had a lot more reality in it than I ever wanted to believe. This weighs on me right now. Give a read. Feeling a bit of melancholy, need a little direction or just want to get lost with someone who was. Perilous Flight is the book you're looking for. It is the culmination of healing a broken heart that begins and ends with understanding what you should and shouldn't be fighting for:
I usually don't indulge in psychic flights of
fancy. I know things, I don't like it, I
just do. But every once in a while I
have an awareness issue where it feels all of the world's everything is pouring
into me. So it's a haze, blurring
dizzying and out of control and then I focus.
And out of the whirl comes a clear conscious stream. Within this stream I see everything. Not just a picture, I see people, what they
are thinking, what they are feeling why they've responded the way that they
have, the connections in their lives that have made it so. I see myself through their eyes and still
maintain what I'm thinking. It's almost
like watching my life as a spectator. I
remove myself from myself and then just politely, quietly watch.
Not many people know this except for close personal
friends. But I dreamed of Siegfried for years before we met. Call me nuts, but really what use would it
be. Anyway in these dreams he would murder me. He was a serial killer, and he would come up
to me and I would stand there knowing that he wouldn't hurt me, trusting him
even though I knew I shouldn't and I would let him cut me down.
He would start with my limbs slowly hacking away at
me. His face impassive and calm,
indifferent. He wasn't even really
enjoying it, or paying attention truly.
He was performing a function. And
I endured it knowing that while I would die in one way, I would be reborn in
another. The sane would say that you
stay away from the man that murdered you in your dreams. I say I'm not sane and this was the path I
needed to take. Pain teaches so much
more than pleasure does. As far as my
life up to this date has shown me at least.
Honestly I owe the man I'm divorcing a bit of
gratitude. I am just now becoming the
woman I've always wanted to be. And I
never would've done it if he hadn't destroyed me emotionally to the point that
I no longer wanted to live. It made me
find a reason to exist and forced me to find value within myself and not as a
side car of what other people want from me.
The greatest gift a woman can ever give herself, is herself and herself
alone.
And now my dreams are my own. They are tempered with flirting,
anticipation, longing, desire, waiting, anxiety, all of the delicious,
delicious sensations that accompany being alive. And now I'm starting to finish the dream, the
one where Siegfried destroys me. It
doesn't end like I thought it did, but I never knew that before. The pain of what I was enduring was always
too much and I would end the dream early, well before he’s done killing me. You
see, I always thought that this ended in my death and I always check out of
dreams before I die in them. Too
Nightmare on Elm Street for me. But now, that I don’t fear the dying I can
finish it, picking up from where he left off.
I watch as he pries out my heart and just holds it
staring into my face waiting. Finally I yell at him to leave me alone, cursing
at him, hating him. He calmly tosses
away my heart, gets up and leaves me lying there. I lay on the ground, my limbs
scattered around me, they are burned and singed from my proximity to hell. My eyes are closed and I weep, uncontrollable
weeping. But no motion, it hurts too
much I can't bear the pain of crying as I normally would because heaving does
me no good. I turn to see tiny red
demons with stubby limbs fighting over my heart.
Suddenly, the earth shatters around me and I hear him
before he lands. The sound of his wings
ripping away as he falls cuts through my pain and stops my tears. I close my
eyes as the lightning strikes, it tears up the sky and hurts to look at. And I
can see him in my head, falling backwards through clouds, his black wings being
torn from his back by the force of his falling. He folds his arms across his
chest and lets himself fall. His face is
obscure because it’s being covered by his whipping hair. And then he's
there.
I can't see him, but I can feel him slowly putting me
back together. He starts with my legs,
the putting together is almost more painful than the hacking off had been. Because I can feel the burned torn flesh, I
can feel the skin he peeled away from when Siegfried was pulling me apart. I can feel the exposed nerves, the aching of
my bones as they are being fused back together.
I feel the stranger’s hand at my brow. I want to open my eyes but I’m so
afraid to stare into the face of my savior, so afraid to meet the man that will
have all of me forever no matter what else is decided. He fell for me, what
choice do I have. Not that I would choose anything else. I feel his lips at my eyes telling me its
okay not to look, and I feel him push my heart back into my chest.
Through my pain I now know what to look forward to in
pleasure. I can feel it pour over me
peeling away the marred, burned, sliced, and badly cauterized wounds the one
who came before left. This mystery
coming into my life just unzips this heavy carcass of my despair, and carefully
pulls me free from it. Like a snake
dropping its skin, my reconstructed form, starting with my feet he slowly pulls
every part of me free. His hands
brushing away the debris slowly I feel the warmth of the sun combined with the
coolness of water. The smell of burning flesh replaced with the onset of spring
honeysuckle and lavender. Without a word, his lips to mine I am reborn.
From Perilous Flight at
Amazon,
Barnes & Noble and
Smashwords
