Often in my life I have experienced a pang of home sickness. However, these pangs, barring once, have never been directed toward a specific place that I know here on earth. Rather, it has more been for a feeling of home that is not found here. It is for the sounds and sights and sites I have only visited in my dreams.
For many years now I often and repeatedly dream of people and places and events that take place in a world that is always illuminated only by light that is closest in description to what is reflected by our moon. It is very interesting. In my waking life, I have always been a lover of the night and a cloudy day rather than the stark brightness of a full on noon day sun.
When I wake up I can always remember these dreams in great detail. Today I am so excited because in talking with N about this, he has remembered some writing about this dream place phenomenon by the mystic Helena Blavatsky. I can’t wait to dig into it.
In my dreams I often meet him there. He seems he is more than just one person. We are all friends. They are painting at the bottom of the hill. They see me and “he” moves upward and embraces me. They do not let go of me even when I look into “his” eyes and I want to greet him. Instead we never speak, but rather envelope each other with a permeating warm energy that says everything without ever uttering a word. We can communicate it all just by a shared look, seeing deep with moonlit eyes.
The Mirror Between Us
The mirror between us
mist when I speak.
Your face in water:
I reach, the work
Even friend and beloved
are wrong words for this.
Even ahhhhh retreats back
into my mouth,
the same if the moon’s
behind cloud or being released.
A pure silent look is better.
I see you there. I remember you. I feel you. I love you.