Monday, April 10, 2006

Still Music

I just thought I’d lie down for a while - have a quick snooze before I went to the supermarket. When I woke-up it was night and nothing was as it should be.

Drifting into sleep a sweet female voice had whispered in my ear.

“Do you want to come with me?”

Yes.

The path before us quickly curved away – there was no way of seeing what lay ahead. It turned out that we were at the start of a complicated maze. Our first steps were slow, hesitant, tentative and we were right to be uncertain. The path was blocked by a string of terrifying monsters and complicated traps. And yet as we approached these things they vanished as if they had been mere illusion.

Eventually we reached the centre of the labyrinth; a forest glade. The area was filled with light, dark green and gold, and soft warm air wrapped itself around us. A brook ran through the centre of the scene, gentle and strong. It told of its journeys in the ancient language of the water spirits.

My companion sat down on soft grass and beckoned for me to join her. As I sat she started to sing to me, a tune full of joy and peace. I listened and felt completely happy and safe.

How long she sang for, I really don’t know - at least a day maybe more. I do know there was a point where I did not exist apart from the bliss of that song.

A time arrived when I knew I must return. I was scared. I thought I would have to face the labyrinth alone. But there was no return journey in dream-time. I awoke.

I awoke to the deepest loneliness, loneliness that comes through having and then not having.

And yet, oh and yet! Despair, yes, but still music.
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