||In love with an Elysium of sorts|
||A Silver Mt. Zion - Mountains Made Of Steam|
"For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you...
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth."
I had the most beautiful dream a few nights ago. I do believe it was the sweetest nightmare I have ever experienced... it was so hauntingly lovely, so tender and piquant. Upon waking, my mouth was full of this; my shoulders felt soft and my back felt perfectly aligned, as if I had never fallen. I felt relaxed. I have not felt that way in what seems like a very long time.
It began with insignificant images and faces, all of which were almost completely irrelevant to the real core of the dream. When it finally began, I was laying in a room of cool neutral colors, filled with an evening light that was dim and just right. The ceiling was gone from the room, and a storm brewed above, but no rain fell. The bed was familiar though I am quite positive I have never seen nor slept in it... but perhaps it was so comfortable, the air so gentle and sweet, because my love was resting beside me, propped up on his elbows. We were speaking quietly and solemnly, maybe about memories, or maybe about nothing. It was all very calm and still, oh it was wonderful. Soon enough, however, I slipped away from the contentment of serenity, and off of that blanketed island of safety. Into the center of the room I traveled, silently, drawn to that invisible place that held the indefinite stares of four shadowed walls. When I reached it, I was struck by a bolt of quick yellow lightning, and the resounding shriek of someone instantly devastated filled my ears as I fell and was lost in light and sound.
Slowly, death faded, and I found myself ascending from blackness into a golden universe. Heaven appeared to me as an infinite expanse of honey-colored land, bright and warm... breathtaking. It resembled Delaware Park, in fact. I was viewing it from above, for of course, I had the power to fly. I saw people walking their dogs, jogging, sitting near the water's edge... as if death had not changed them at all. In my mind, I wished for a sanctuary, a high place where I could enjoy the solace of the afterlife, where I could be at eye level with the glorious rainbows that appeared in my midst as I floated lazily above the blue ripples and waves. My new home was not far. A small cottage on a mountaintop materialized to my eyes, as if it had been chosen... it awaited my arrival, already furnished, mine. I entered through a broken garage door, and was glad to be able to go upstairs and have a lengthy nap. Next day, I awoke to hushed happy voices and found sunlight in my kitchen. The doors had disappeared from the one-room first floor, but many windows graced its busy walls. It was a bakery. One large window encompassed the entire storefront, another existed near the stairs, there were two in the back, and none on the remaining side (appliances filled the space). Each window told a different story... one was a glowing red sunset; its twin looked out upon the trees and flowers that grew in my yard. The window near the staircase was closed and probably boarded up, for I was unable to open it. The storefront window looked out upon a dirt road where children ran and played, and across the street were other buildings and shops. The town was ancient and innocent. It gave me much pleasure to sell pies and cookies to the giddy youths who never talked but always smiled and giggled, forever skipping together with no real destination. My specialty was chocolate cake. I made immense, rich, elaborately decorated cakes; they must have been delicious. I can't be sure... I never tasted what I made.
I don't know how many weeks I spent in that cottage alone, baking all day and spending my evenings upstairs in my tranquil mahogany bedroom. It was high-ceilinged and filled with soothing blues: a perfect room to study in, to enjoy the crackling phonograph, to gaze out the window that always contained a steady rain, and to truly, peacefully sleep. It must have been quite a while. One morning, I trudged down the stairs in a dress and a robe, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I stepped into the kitchen to see Adam, sitting on the floor in a corner where two cabinets converged, looking overtly forlorn. I was frightened and surprised, but I ran to him, kneeled down before him in wonder and awe. He peered up into my face. Without a word from me, he initiated a detailed explanation of his life on Earth from the moment of my death to the moment of his. He told me that he had screamed and screamed. He told me that he had locked himself in rooms, that he had starved himself over and over again, had written pages and pages of mad words. He said he had had fits, by himself, had ranted and ranted, to himself. He told me that my absence made him insane. He couldn't bear to be alone with all of the nostalgia that had overtaken him. He couldn't stand the images that plagued his brain day and night, the memories and illusions that he could never catch and hold, but only watch and brood over. The confessions fell from his lips easily... we were both so upset and ecstatic. It was unbelievable to feel that. He concluded by pushing the hair off of his forehead with his left hand, revealing an ugly black scar. He had stabbed himself. In the head. It was too overwhelming to look upon for very long, and Adam knew this, for he took his hand away swiftly and let his hair fall back into place. He fixed his eyes upon the floor, waiting for me to reply. I finally sat, facing him. I'm not sure that I said anything, but I assured him that he could stay, that I was not worried, that I regretted his suicide but that things were fine now. We were reunited. I stroked his hair a little hesitantly (but so eagerly), touched his anxious face. He knew that I was astonished. The kiss that ensued held all the beauty that the Earth could never have given us. It was... beautiful...
I think that's why I never tasted anything I baked. It tasted far better than any food could taste. It was, simply put, divine. The dream ended with that scene, but I know that we spent our eternity in that sweet and merry place. It was all so perfect.
I hope I do go to that heaven.