27 Nov. - Saturday - 3:47 p.m.
Another nightmare in the wee hrs. of morning - this time different, and followed by a migraine, which, thank God, only lasted a few hours. I'd been having a good dream. I was playing "Wiener Blut," totally absorbed in the music - the joyous lilt of three-quarter time. I had a vague sensation of a couple waltzing around the drawing room - perhaps Alex and Nick, or maybe Nick with Kat. Yes, I think that was the combination. She was laughing. There was an air of happy innocence that was a rarity in the house.
Suddenly, it was gone. There were hands around my neck and foul, sulphurous breath in my face. It was Father. "Join us!" he said. All I could see was his yellowed teeth and the demonic insanity in his eyes. My neck burned and still burns. It hurts like hell and I feel like my soul itself is on fire. I don't think this is a low grade fever any longer. Then there was my own voice saying hoarsely, "Yes... you are my father... and I am your son." Suddenly I felt the elation of total, absolute power, seemingly over all creation. The sensation was sublime.
It was not a "Sight" induced dream. The "Sight" no longer stirs in me - not a twinge. I tried it on my new jacket to see if I could get a sense of its previous owner. Nothing. It's gone quiet on me before, but this time I fear it is, indeed, dead and gone. Is this blindness what others feel? People not "gifted" with the "Sight"? Or am I even more blind than they ever were. Was I so dependant upon that sense that other, more normal ones were never sufficiently developed? Or is it a case of the pendulum having swung totally the opposite way?
What is this desolation I feel inside me? Loneliness? A longing for the companionship and support of my friends. I'm not sure I ever really understood what that was. Intellectually, I realized my need for their friendship and assistance, but I don't think my heart came close to admitting how great my need was, nor how great the bleakness would be when our bonds were severed.
I miss Nick's jokes, his volatility, the way he would push and test my limits, and his own. I miss the security of his presence at my back. And Alex - her gentle voice, her hunger for knowledge, her concern, her loving friendship - what might have been. I miss Rachel's contradictions that would force me to reevaluate and to reenforce my own certainty. I miss Kat's laughter, Ingrid's pure love and faith, and Mother? I miss Mother's dignity - her dignity in love, her dignity in crisis, her dignity in tragedy. Even the occasional call to Philip - the reality check of his quick, dark wit - is lost to me. But this splitting asunder must be - no option - for the greater good of all.
I pray that they all fare well, that they are dealing with what had to be - that my letters have helped. I wish I knew. It's hard to let go. I tried the very best I knew how to prepare them, to train them for what life and death brings to those who follow our path. I pray that, whatever they may chose to do, I accomplished my mission. If so, that part of my soul can be at peace.
Yet I've never known such absolute sadness, and panic - terror of something, but I don't know what. Just as my black hole becomes more profound as I reach more deeply within myself - so does the terror become more overwhelming. When I step back, distance myself & try to look at the situation logically, I realise I cannot. Is that part of my mind at a loss because of the lack of information and memory, or is the emotional part of my mind dominating in order to protect my psyche and my sanity?
I recall the writings of a German poet, but his name does not come. One particular passage suits to perfection, yet I cannot say why I remember this. He wrote, "Is this becoming numb and weeping still that goes to my very core, up to the very entrance of my heart's chamber, an instinctive defense by which something that can annihilate me is to be deceived." My truth, I fear.
Was that dream a memory? I think maybe, but how much? The mark on my neck is the size and shape of a hand. I cringe at the thought of what I said & felt in that dream - I touched something evil, and it was within me.
I don't understand what has happened to me. I've never not known what to do. I've never not been able to think things through to arrive at a plan of action, usually several alternate plans.
I must treat this as a thesis - peel away my emotions - topic - hypotheses - argument - substantiation. One theme - one question - at a time. Alstublieft, Gott, hulp mij.
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* Thanks to Jilly Paddock for the quote by German poet, Rainer Maria Rilke.
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