Monday, 19 November 2012

Visions...


Years ago I was sat in the back of my father's car by myself as he went to see a mechanic about something. It was late in the afternoon; maybe it was after school; the sky was dark, heavy with rain. I remember looking up at the second story of this man's house, the windows were dark, and the walls were smothered in what seemed to be light brown pebbledash, and in the light of the sun, going down in the West, it seemed that I stood there, not in the place itself, but the light was familiar. I had the feeling that in some far distant day, beyond recall, I would stand in the same light, waiting for the onset of a ruinous storm, looking around my room, dusty floorboards, an old unmade bed, and looking out into the street, old and tired, at eternity's gate. But the light was there.

I envy the insane. If I were someone like Susanna Kaysen I could have made this so much more interesting...

By the way, the photo is rather nice but has little in common with the sky or the house I saw. It's like on the Thursday that Michael Jackson died; I walked home with an old acquaintance (he wasn't a friend, exactly; he got on my tits), and told him to look at the moon, wreathed in silver clouds, and told him to enjoy it, for it would be the last time he (or anyone) ever saw it. I'm not a literary genius like Tolkien; I cannot describe a hauting sunset, conjuring before you a vivid picture as though you too were there; nor express exactly what I felt, why I felt it, for I am not like Kaysen either. You may think I'm a crackpot for bothering to write this post, but is the significance of any life event, even a reminiscent sunset, diminished because only one person experienced it? I don't believe in ESP, and I am not saintly enough to have visions, but such things have happened before; either in dreams or waking memory, and have ''come true,'' in a sense. Now is the time to just wait for that room.

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