In my mind’s eye

What does memory have in the presence of thought and history? Perfectly in harmony with the two if you ask me, though I wonder when the balance tips in step with either of the three. There is perhaps something that binds all three together; something that rather unfortunately has become my undoing... is it? Time. Time is it, the something that binds them all together; time with a twist. For time itself should be the undoing of many if it ever were so. Still the question remains- what does memory have in the presence of thought and memory?

Time in a dream. That's another side to this question, or to its answer when I find it. Time has wrapped itself around me so that I can feel its breath on mine; we breathe in perfect, or near perfect, harmony. Time speeds by so that I cannot see it, and suddenly stops- we switch places and I become time, time becomes me. Then I speed by that it cannot see me till I suddenly stop. He calls out to me and I don’t know if I heard, for I have gone too far. Perhaps I hear the call in my head; is he connected to me somehow? When we made the switch we dropped something of ours in the other, I in him and him in me. So indeed I can hear him in my head, and that's what makes me suddenly stop. I stop before realise I've stopped running, like someone- he- pulled me from the road, or the road from me, or just pulled both of us. And I can’t hear him again. Did he stop calling? Or did I hear nothing and think it all up? I can’t see him behind me when I look back.

When I called out to him he’d already gone beyond voice and I merely saw a blur go by, more like a blink. Yes it was as I blinked he went by; there is no way I can reach him again. But he has something of mine with him, something he took while I wasn’t looking, or maybe while I slept. But he couldn’t have taken it while I slept because it was around my neck and I certainly would have woken up had he attempted to touch me for he certainly could not take it without touching me. So he had to have taken it while I blinked, for in blinking my thoughts were diverted to other matters for that instant and I must have loosened my grip on it- it was in my hand while I blinked and had my thoughts on to other matters. Really fast that man! But I really need it, for it holds something else. There's a part of me in it. And it’s with him. So there's a part of me with him, and he's gone rather far. So I mentally say his name, maybe audibly too, as I bemoan my loss and I see something stop in the distance. In the distance someone looks back, and do I recognise that shape? It is him. But did he hear me? How could he have heard me for the distance had gone beyond reach of voice, and I'm certain I did not shout, yes I'm certain I didn’t shout. So how could he have heard me? I merely wished he’d stop and he did stop. I stopped time.

I stopped because something made me, though I don’t know what is. As I look back I see there's someone there, and do I know the person standing there? I think I do, matter o’ fact I do know the person. Now I know who called me, but how did I hear him? I consider the distance again and my wonder increases even more. There's no way I could have heard him; the distance is just too great. Did he shout? Even if he did I shouldn’t have heard. I think he's seen that I've stopped, and he's waving frantically as if trying to get my attention. Then the voice again, a little above a whisper, rather urgent, he wants me to come back. Why? I've gone rather too far to go back now, but the voice is insistent. Now I bemoan the distance and how my tired feet will have to move against their will. I close my eyes in despair as I summon my last bit of strength. I open them as I resolve to make the tired journey back again. I'm standing face to face with him. My eyes open fully.

We stand in the same space and there's something otherworldly about it. Immediately he comes everything comes, and I remember everything in one breath. No words, no movements, just both of us still and staring in each other’s eyes. I see everything as they pass before my eyes; I see into time’s mind. I see other things too. I’d rather not see them, but I'm powerless against the sight. The sight comes up so strongly like I was just blessed with it, and indeed I was just blessed with it, if I can call it a blessing. Or perhaps it’s always been in me and I only just saw it today. I see figures move with a certain rapidness, figures with double ended faces, contorted with the passage of years. Then I hear a voice, like a song. The song seems to not come from time, but from somewhere beyond the space where we stand. The voice is beautiful, like the sun in the coolness of evening time, as breeze moving softly through your skin. Then it goes still, quiet as though there had been no voice, as though we were not here, an odd sort of quietness that made took all thought away from the mind. And all thought leaves my mind, like I never saw anything, like nothing happened, like I had not woken and still asleep. The voice comes again; the song in its quiet urgency and I momentarily step out of me watching me from outside, watching time still stare at me with blankness.

I hear the voice too but it has no effect on me, like I wasn’t its target. A sight opens up, one beyond words, full of beauty and something else I can’t tell. Though I can tell it is beautiful and appreciate its wonder, I see another side. Inside the voice I see figures; the same figures I saw when I was inside me. They are monstrous faces, torn apart and twisted into nightmarish creatures. “They are the faces of dreams gone to waste, and of memories buried in death. They are the substance of tears of screams”, I hear the voice say. Just then a blood curdling scream rends the air and I'm filled with terror, a terror black as a moonless night where the paths are strewn with blood and darker shapes form before your eyes. I see my soul ripped from me, and time’s soul ripped from it and I'm as a bystander they're not aware of. The souls are made into something I have no name for, and I see them scream. Their screams pierce through the earth and everything stops moving. Nothing that was moving of its own accord or by external influences moves. Then the space around us goes grey as a sun robbed of its light and it feels like a void. Then figures materialise from the void; hooded figures that stand in a circle around the three of us. They lift their hoods and their faces are vacant with no eyes yet they are with intensity. They turn their faces up like to the clouds and the clouds open, letting a ray of light through. The light lands on both of them, and another scream comes from them and I see their eyes roll backwards while they stand perfectly still. Then a space opens on my eyes and I see thoughts and dreams and memories break through hardened earth as a plant forcing growth through resistant soil and it rains on them, washing off the dirt, revealing finely a formed wisp iridescent in the light. The wisp twirls like gentle breeze playing through smoke and moves from one person to the other. It goes back and forth a few times till ceases movements, and one of the hooded figures comes inside the circle while the others close, faces still open and up. He lowers his head still uncovered and makes a movement that seems like breathing, with a low hum vibrating beneath the breath. The once twirling wisp then splits in two and they move into each person. Their eyes open as the hooded figures vanish, and just then everything begins to move again. I see time has become itself again, and with a smile I too, cease to exist.

I wonder what happened to me as a slight shiver runs through me. All I remember is I was going down this road and..... what happened one minute ago? Something glints just beside my right foot and as pick it, I see it’s a pebble, a clear shiny blue pebble marked with what looks like a twirling wisp. Twirling wisp? I remember everything.

Reviews

[ReneeJ]

You are truly talented. I thought this was really good. I love your imagery and how you were able to keep me going, as events intensified and I felt myself anticipating a great accident or something of that sort.
I would suggest that you make space, as it can be hard to read when everything is so jumbled, but otherwise a great read!! :)

[Opeyemi Jide-Ojo]

I'll note that. Someone else told me about space in another piece.... Thanks