New Fiction

I’ve decided to start writing again…I don’t really understand why I ever stop. I suppose it’s because it drains me to think about topics and, then weave words that desire to be read. But here I go…again. 

“I am an adulteress.” I repeated this to myself, as I searched the reflection in the mirror for any sign that the woman I once was still existed. In just two short years, the youfulness had dwindled from my eyes, and began to show as a new dullness in both my skin and eyes reflected back to me. Apparently, all of the trials and tribulations I had endured in my first forty years didn’t take nearly the toll that just two years spent in the beautiful turmoil of passion provided. 

I suppose there is still a level of naïveté that demonstrates itself, even at the age of thirty-eight. Looking back, I could equate myself to a child, desperately seeking the comfort, the safe  embrace, only a parent could provide. At the time, I was as lost as a piece of driftwood, carried across the miles of open ocean, with no particular destination. All I wanted was a safe place to rest my weary heart. It was quite pathetic, in retrospect. But somehow, I convinced myself that nothing mattered, no sin too great, for the warm sanctuary of an equally aching heart would heal all indiscretions. 

Dreams of the Dead

Well, it happened again. I had a very vivid dream of my dead uncle…an uncle I rarely, if ever think of…and this dream, like the others I talked about in my short story “The Reluctant Medium” (available here on Amazon), turned out to have dramatic significance.

Here’s how it went. Oh…and I’d like to add…I did not use marijuana during the day or before bed that night.

The Dream

I was at my dad’s funeral, but it was at a hunting lodge in a pine forest. On the morning we were all checking out, I decided to stop by the bar (it seemed rather early to me, too). I got to chatting with the bartender and felt as though I didn’t want to check out.

My aunt came down and went behind the bar to show the younger bartenders how to pour a proper Guinness. She seemed so happy! My uncle, who passed away, came down too. He had a small backpack slung over one shoulder and was pulling a small carry-on. My aunt went to him and talked with him as though she had just seen him. He never so much as uttered a response. She hugged him briefly, which I could feel he accepted yet never returned, and gave him a quick kiss before returning to her post behind the bar. He never spoke a single word, it seemed like he simply couldn’t. He milled about and she kept talking to him, even though he wasn’t really near her.

The scene played out and for some reason, I found myself walking around the bar. I caught a peek of my uncle hiding behind a door, with his backpack and suitcase. I asked him, “Why are you hiding?” He replied, but never opened his mouth, “I can’t let her see me.” I accepted his response, even though it didn’t make a lot of sense and made my way outside to see what was going on.

I know the dream went on from there, but I can’t remember what happened. I woke up shortly thereafter.

The Significance

Of course, I called my aunt, who is my dad’s sister, and told her all about the dream. The first thing she said was, “Ya know, whenever I’m feeling down, something happens to lift me up…and today that was your phone call.” She went on to say, “I do talk to him, I do kiss and hug him, I do believe he’s still with me.” Then she said, and this blew my mind, “This means even more today because the 5 year anniversary of his death is on Saturday.”

Chills spilled over me from head to toe. Why, after 5 years did I have a random dream about my uncle, whom I haven’t thought of in I don’t know how long, whom I’ve never dreamed of, so close to the anniversary of his death? It reminded me of the time I dreamed of my Uncle Ray so close to his 50th Anniversary to my aunt (as mentioned in “The Reluctant Medium”)…but this was even more exact in timing. Truly, the timing was beyond coincidence. The pieces of the cryptic dream began to come together in my mind and my aunt suddenly asked, “What do you make of all of this?” Without hesitation I knew, and chills continued to pour over me as I spoke, “He wants you to know he’s still with you, he hears you, he just can’t show himself to you.” I wasn’t sure why he felt as though he couldn’t show himself in some way, maybe he thought it would scare her, maybe she simply didn’t have the “eyes to see.” Whatever the reason, he reached out to me…maybe because the veil is thinner for me, especially while I sleep.

I only wish I could lift the veil during the day, but I suppose my day-to-day is a bit cemented in this reality.

Things Just Got Weirder

Well, I’ve done it again…I published yet another short story. Maybe you didn’t care for my most recent “Writing Reality,” I’m not even sure how much I cared for it. Anyway, my newest story is called “The Reluctant Medium.” Just this week, pieces of the puzzle have started falling into place. If you’d like to hear about some weird things that have happened throughout my life…and by weird, I mean, dreams of dead people, numerology significance, etc….give it a go. (The link is at the bottom.)

Here’s the blurb:

I’m a skeptic. I’ve even wondered, at times, if I believe anything at all. Even now, I can’t quite get my head around all of this. The part that I can’t reconcile is that I’m a skeptic…and I’m a medium…but a reluctant one, at best. I’ve had all kinds of experiences that I cannot explain – dreams and visions, encounters with bizarre numerology…I’ve even written my reality into existence. These pages capture my life’s experiences, my skepticism, and my journey as I start down an entirely new, unexpected path in life.