WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT
Not Suitable For Children.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.
private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst
I am the storyteller using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss
but to most importantly tell the best tale ever after upon a time.
see you down the rabbit hole.
Private Writings: Chapter #66 — “Hello Goodbye”
Tuesday 9th December 2008
I saw her. When she was dying. My mind was a slideshow of still images very much alive inside the time slip in my head. All the smashing sounds crashing against the darkness I fell into while the car fell out of control, taken out by the chaos and collision theory. Hurdling through the air, tumbling forever until the silence caught hold and brought all actions under control and stopped them. Inside me, the echo was shouting out, “you’re dead.” In a split second, my mind focused on Tosh. I called out her name. No response. The darkness fought me but I pushed back with kicking and struggling to free myself from the hands of death and the clutches of this smashed, small, pushed in sports car, holding us captive.
Once free of my car, now upside down and still, as fast as I was able, I found myself on the driver’s side of the car. Tosh loved my racing green MG. Her first negotiation with me, in front of an audience of lesbians, and our very first time being together, as we stood close enough for me to feel the warmth of her breath on my face, we were out in the parking lot of ‘The River,’ a Gay Dance Bar. She asked if she could drive my MG. With courage and no expectation, I said I would make a deal. “If you give me a kiss, I will give you her keys. And wherever you want to go that will be our destination.”
She never hesitated as her lips approached my face and lightly touched my mouth. Her kiss was the sweetest and longest kiss I ever experienced and loved more than anything else that ever happened in my life until that moment. I want to feel those sensations and that newness and intimacy again.
While I was having these flashes of memory, weird shit began happening at Redcliff. First the paper I was writing a note on blew away, pulled with force, right out from under my hands. Then I started feeling weird inside. My skin felt goose bumps. The flesh felt the warmth of a sensation touching me. How do sensations touch you? I cannot explain, except to say, I felt charged with a powerful energy. It was unlike anything that ever touched me and it was invisible.
I became distracted away from the feelings when the book I had been reading earlier flew off the table from where I placed it.
The last thing, quite intimate and unusual, was the scent that washed clean the air. It was strong and familiar. I was certain it was “Sophia,” a perfume I use to wear. And I remembered the same sensual smell when Tosh and I kissed on my dare, a kiss for a key.
How do I explain what it feels like when a kiss melts every body part into one. One merges with the other person. I am certain it is as different as snowflakes. I miss the fact, we never shared a warm fire during a snow fall. We did have the changing of Spring into Summer. The greening and the flowers blooming are spectacular when being in love.
I felt lifted up whenever I was near her. She electrified everyone she touched. Being in her presence heightened my senses. My Angel in waiting for the right time. Waiting for the bell to ring and the light to call. In that moment, she would earn her wings. That should have been years from then and now. As a special gift, she has returned to be my Guardian Angel. Her presence, recently, was being strongly felt. I started talking to her more recently. And No, she does not talk back to me out loud.
If she is not haunting me now, I have no idea who it could be. But then, why would Tosh want to spook me?
After thinking hard about this, the only person presently who would even want to haunt me is, do not laugh or think this idea is nuts, is our murdered group therapy member. Everyone seems to have forgotten Angie. Not me. She pissed me off when she was alive. How do you think I will feel if it turns out “she’s back” and is after me. I have to admit, I have been feeling her presence almost since the night she died.
I should say murder, even though it hasn’t been determined or come close to being confirmed. As Eliza Doolittle would say, “I think someone did her in.” Her enemies list filled the length of a mystery novel. None of what happened was natural. Her death came on too suddenly. Plus there is no cause of death. Oh, and what about Dr. George going bonkers. All of this makes my conspiratorial mind work overtime. For me it is the Conspiracy theorist’s smoking gun on the Grassy Knoll.
Angie may be here, looking for her murderer. It’s not me. But I found out by accident that Dr. George is somewhere inside Redcliff Psychiatric Institute. There have been rumors he’s in the restricted area where no one can just enter and it is hard as hell to get out of even if you don’t belong. That’s for another time.
Back to being haunted, I wish whoever they are would have the chutzpah to face me. Ghosts don’t scare me. They are probably confused about where they are or are stuck for whatever reasons. They may be trapped here. Or don’t want to let go of being here. If one doesn’t believe in anything past the moment of now, in addition to fearing the nothingness, who the Hell would want to disappear completely and stop existing at all? Not one of my favorite moments of mystery I am looking forward to finding out about.
I know I have that fear. It circles my insecurities endlessly. Not to exist any longer FREAKS THE HELL OUT OF ME. It would mean DARKNESS FOREVER. And I have a mortal fear of the Dark and I Hate the Dark, also.
Ah, Shit! A bell just sounded. It means the computers are going offline at any moment. I’m sending this now.
But one last thing I want to say and wish I had the courage to say it face to face. But since we can’t be, here it is. I miss you. I love you. I wish you could hold me & read me a cool, long story. Make the scary thoughts leave my head. Mostly, I just want to hear your voice and to feel one of your extra long hugs.
Have to go. Find me. You know where my mind would go.
© Madison Taylor 2008
“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor