Mentalechoes

I woke up today and it was pissing down rain. It was one of those hard heavy rains that you hear before you come awake; you’re aware of this rhythmic drumming on the windows which you instinctively know is heavy rain. I like it though! I like the rain. There is something pure about rain that feels good when you watch it from the windows of a warm room. It’s like, it doesn’t matter what has come before the rain, or how dirty the streets are, rain washes it all clean. Rain, forgives us our sins! I always like to think that those first rays of sunshine after heavy rain, are like a blessing. That’s why it feels so good when you can turn your face towards the light and catch warm rays on your cheek!

I passed an old man today in my mind. I saw him on the streets a few days ago walking a dog and his craggy countenance stuck in my memory. He looked to be a 103, but I am sure he wasn’t that old. He walked too straight in the back for that. He wore a face that looked like it was made of brown paper mache that was still wet and limp. His eyes though were deep pools of expression, the type you can only see in old people who have paid witness to many things over a long life. They weren’t clear, but very rheumy, giving me the impression he had experienced a lot of sadness in his time on this earth. But there was also a strength in those eyes, a resolve that he would endure, no matter what would come in the days remaining. He smelled of stale cigarettes as I was beside him, as we passed each other. It was this smell that reminded me of my grandfather Blackbourn and being back in his house in Granville on school holidays. The old man nodded to me as I passed, and I nodded back. There was a serenity in his look, like he had made his peace with the world, and was content with walking his dog. I would have liked to have known his name.

I had a nightmare last night that frightened me deeply. I dreamt there was a presence in my room and it did not like me. I could feel the waves of hate eminating from its formless body from somewhere in the darkness of the room just outside of my vision. It spoke to me, but I didn’t understand what it was trying to say. I only know that it’s voice was terrifying and I violently woke myself up to escape its grasp. I was covered in sweat and yet chilled to the bone. I wonder if there was anything there?

I wrote to my friend this afternoon. A really long email like I haven’t sent to her in a long time. I used to write a lot more to this woman, but that was a long time ago. I used to hold her face in my hands as we lay naked together making love, and tell her how beautiful she was. That was a long time ago too. Now it seems time has built a corridor between us, and the memories of our experiences are postcards and photographs stuck on the walls like so much graffitti. I still remember the feel of her skin, and what she smells like though.

I think tomorrow I will begin writing my book. My friend has a new girlfriend, which means I have new time. Something tells me it is a good time to begin. I don’t know how to explain it, or even if it is worth trying. I simply believe that all my experiences have lead me to this point, and now it is time.

Yes, I think it is time!

Padwanna!