sense sense sense

If I had written this journal last week, as I wanted to do but never found the time to do, it would perhaps be a detailed account of a week full of coincidences, semi-conscious dreams/prophecies, signs (if you can find a way to see them) and the latest chapter, a blissful resumption, of wonderful conversations with a dear friend I had not gotten to talk to for some months. It was a karmic week, to say the least. I have a sense that I am part of a much larger story, a story evolving, revolving, devolving, and resolving, again and again, over generations. My identity changes each time, but my role does not, I sense. It seems like much of my current life up to this point has been “training” to now be aware of, witness, and participate in a grander scheme than the sheltered daydreams of one Tony Pucci, 38-year old American & other details. That’s just who I am now.

I’ll spare you mention of the signs. They would not have the full impact on you, I suspect, without knowing the full background, the full sense of what I feel is going on. Let’s just say it’s all a dance, a game of chess, and thrilling mutated shouts, sometimes vocal, sometimes ethereal, sometimes purposely held quiet. And can the story of many be the story of one anyway? It is not my place, at this time, to be the historian. All I can say is, it is about love. The love of a family. A family that once was. A family that has been. A family that is trying to reunite. Souls orbiting a center goal; but not every lifetime builds a home. Sometimes the players are cast far from each other and, upon finding each other, this is when the signs (re)appear. The old déjà vu. The sense of knowing. The congruent random references.

Well, enough vague talk about something I can sense, but don’t want to comment on too deeply regardless!

Then there was my dream of last week. It felt like a premonition. It shook me to my core. For a full day, I was violently taken out of my usual paradigm and could only look at life in a new way. Basically, in this dream, a friend of mine was having a baby with this other friend of mine. Nice, right? Sure. But in the dream, I died right before my friend gave birth, and then I was looking up at her with newborn eyes. The family was complete again. That’s how strongly I feel connected to, how much I love, this friend of mine. I woke up, very much believing I had been given a rare gift, that of knowing my fate. A fate of knowing of my death and rebirth.

Now, in real life, in real terms, my friend is not pregnant. Yet. But it I sincerely felt like my time was limited here on Earth. It’s an academic question except to the gravely ill in our society: “What would you do if you knew you only had one year to live?” A question I admit I had never considered too seriously. But for the full day after this dream, I could think of nothing else. How would I put my affairs in order? How would I spend my last days with my friends and family? And in this particular case, would I leave evidence, music, poetry, some form of communication, for my new self? I’ll be honest, for a while I was scared silly. No one wants to die. And then gradually, a sense of peace overtook me. I would continue. And perhaps in a better place than I am now.

It was quite a lot to think about, to be honest with you. It still haunts me even now. And I wonder too, does feeling very emotional open one’s soul to these types of revelations? You might recall a recent journal of mine in which I discussed songs that make me cry. For personal and “common” reasons, my life has been pretty sucky lately, and my network of support, internally and externally, is not always all it could be…or even just “around”, for that matter. I’m not lamenting. Just the facts, ma’am. It was only a single instance, my recent “good cry”, and at the time it felt good to let it out. But perhaps it’s a way of cleansing the soul, or at least, of putting it into some sort of tabula rasa state, so that it is open to new ideas.

Something to think about.