I Know Not Of

A time and again.

As I arrived at this richly house, within a richly neighborhood; I began to feel like a criminal. I cannot explain why, or maybe I do not wish to? The entirety of all the houses from block-to-block was in tune with natures embrace. All green, all trees and a very tranquil silence held them. I then approached this marbled-looking one. With a deep dark greened lawn, and a stoned fence separating property from property. I was then greeted by a woman of blonde hair and blue eyes. She was a very pretty sort, quite fit as well. She had on a grey sweater; light grey, with sweatpants the same color. She welcomed me inside of her home. I have now no recollection of what she spoke of, except that her son was to soon reach ten, and her daughter eleven. Both of which (as this transpired) I intuitively knew took place.

 

As we head into this room, a little boy at the edge of a long marble staircase called for his Mother. The whole house looked of marble and wood; with a nice black-grey-white design, and a merging of combinations from all, on most floors, walls and appliances, but that deep earthy tone coloring all things wooden. She spoke to me words that were not there, or are simply not here. She then took her son to this other room. It was the other bathroom. I waited for what seemed like a second or two, and she was out. Spoke to me once more, quickly, and I remember only that I told her to return to that room of which we first were to go into, and that I would not be long. I went into the room she came out of, and tended to all that I needed to. The room was very neat, very clean, but with this and the material; the marble. It was so cold.

 

I left, and journeyed to this other room of which she was waiting. I opened the door to see her, quiet and very aloof, yet focused; she was. Her hair was not very long; it was a thickness that seemed thin, like that of silk. It was a yellowed tapestry dangling from an unappreciated mind. I did not utter a word, and neither did she. I walked into this room, I saw a wall that was nothing more than a one way window, and at least that is my most hopeful guess. Outside though, there was a beautiful backyard. Grass was high enough to be alive, to show itself proudly, as did all the trees, and fruit they bear. This all was so welcoming; this all was so breath-taking & sanguine.

 

I gazed upon her from behind, as she was looking out to such a lovely sight, (they both were). I wrapped my arms around her waist firmly and warm, and pulled her in towards my chest. I could smell this sweetness that nothing but the real could convey, and so I saw her neck, her shoulder peeking out of the grey sweater she had on. I had my back now to a wall, and her in my arms, with back to me. I began kissing her, from just behind her ear. She was so in control in this passive state, like nothing, no one, no how but her could achieve. Now down lower to the back of her neck. They were proud, and strong, yet so delicately soft; both her and these kisses. I then pressed my lips to the base of her neck this time, and as I did such; a realization struck me, I became me from inside me, and obscured from hers as well as my own view; and at that last fading moment, I knew it was over. 

Author's Note

As I play through this, I have a song in my head; this one:

Reviews

[MoriartyMesa]

In some ways, this is very psychological, oppose to a story. In some parts there felt a cry out. The work has a nice touch of mystery.

[V. P. Trujillo]

Interesting, A cry out, as well as mystery. It has been some time since I have analyzed this dream of mine, I am glad to hear your take on it, however.

This is a very dreamy write my dear brother .... I see your delusions in different rooms, and rooms that are well-known ways of thinking, (personally speaking for myself) too, through that part. There is a connection going through attraction and energy, you are very mysterious, yet so controlled reflected. There is everything and there is nothing, there are bubbles of air and space of thoughts, feelings, contradictions, and paths that a dream world can take. Yet your conciousness guides you ever through... (strong). Lucid, should be the right word, to this. Enjoyed this experiment of yours! :)

- Elis xx