Monday, October 18, 2010
Dancing through the Depths of my Mind
Last night I had several souls dancing their way through my brain.
This is not a unique experience, per se. I often, especially as the moon approaches its full phase, open up psychically and seem to invite visitors into my mind.
Usually, however, they appear one at a time, and make their presence known before they start knocking around in the cabinets of my cerebellum. You know, they ring the doorbell before barging in, just in case they might be catching me in my birthday suit.
I must have been wide open last night, for I had not one, but several visitors clunking around in my sacred space. It took me a while to sort them out and identify the individual forces at work there.
One was a familiar visitor, an old friend who periodically appears and likes to camp out in the place I call my "junk pile" - this is the home of my short term memory, where he pulls out random ideas, images and symbols to admire and evaluate.
"Red velvet. France. Chinese food. Turquoise."
This is how a typical encounter with Jack might sound, a one-sided litany as he dug through the rubble he discovered.
"Yes, Jack," I would answer, "But you're in the trash heap again. It's all just junk."
For Jack, however, this rubbish heap was a comfortable - and safe -place to rest.
So Jack was curled up in the trash pile last night, while two other entities poked and prodded in other - more significant areas of my brain.
Though I never identified either clearly, it became obvious that the first was a soul searching for guidance and stability. He sat towards the back of my head, just behind my right ear, scratching at me in much the same way that my poodle, Monte, does when he is desperate for attention. His need was deep - achingly so - and it fatigued me greatly as he attempted to draw from my strength to find his way.
The third force had a more sinister sense, and settled deeply into the subconscious portion of my mind, as if it were a spy, digging for forbidden information. This third force snuck in on the heels of the second, stealthily, and was much more tentative in its probing. It eventually retreated, with resignation, without finding whatever it had hoped to discover.
These visitors, each in their own spot, have an interesting effect upon my head. The first sensation is a sort of heaviness in my head, a slight pressure, in the place they enter. As they begin to explore, my head begins to buzz with energy, and it feels as if there are fairies or small animals trodding on my brain. It feels a bit like a series of goosebumps across the inside of my head. The longer the entities remain, the higher the energy levels rise. And once these forces enter my mind, it is often difficult to force them out until they are ready to go. Last night, Jack was the last to leave, snuggling in for many hours before finally letting go and slipping away into the night.
Ultimately, the biggest effect of these visits is that they sap my energy and steal my sleep. Today, I feel like the walking dead. I have often theorized that this is precisely why they come.
In times of high energy, I broadcast to others with psychic abilities, and they rush to take advantage of the available energy. Jack used to tell me that when my energy is at its peak, I transmit like a beacon, to all those who can read it. I imagine my brain as a sort of psychic gas station. Last night, I had three eager "customers" pull in to top off. While they were there, they danced through my head, poked and prodded, and left no corners unexamined.
And as I finish writing this post, in has crept Jack once again, to hang out in the junk pile of my mind, curling up in the corner just like the family dog snuggling in front of the hearth.
Now, I need a nap!