Two weeks into the new year and I am still trying to decipher what happened to me in 2016. I know something happened because I’ve been strolling around my mind as if in a bookstore on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
2017 has entered and my back is turned. I am walking through the memory of my experiences all the while knowing, its not an experience I am trying to conjure. It is a consequence of a series of experiences that happened without my permission. It is the will refusing to look and the spirit refusing to not look.
Hints flutter into consciousness in the day and rage in the night. Vivid dreams that I refuse to interpret insist I face myself. I only concede just before waking and lay there looking at the movie screen of my dream disolving before my closed eyes.Though not before I saw the brilliant red dress, or poster, or kite or whatever form red takes as it pounds on my counsciousness demanding that I cry uncle.
I lost somethnig that mattered to me, something that was important to me, something that was me, I lost a part of me last year. I am only just beginning to realize that I may not get it back. I am only just beginning to realize that if I don’t name it I can’t possibly get it back. And even then sometimes there are heavy prices to pay for the choices we make and that the red dress, poster and kite in my dream is my blood sacrifice, that the red dress, poster and the kite is the price. To continue to live but to have lost a part of life.