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Monday, April 20, 2009

A Story Or A Truth?

In the not too distant past (several years ago), I had been minding my own business within my own home when there came a knocking at my door.  The woman who stood before me was asking to speak to the owner of the store and house.  As the store was mine, and please do note the past tense, I was the owner.  However, at the time the woman came searching, the store she sought had not been in existence for a few years and the sign had long been discarded.  I told the woman that I was the owner of the store that is no longer in existence and that I am the owner of the house.  She told me that I was not and insisted that I tell her of the owner.  It should also be noted that the type of store I had is a dime a dozen store and so many more are in existence, why did she come looking for the naught?  Try as I might to convince the seeker that I was in fact the woman she sought, I could not do it.  Alas, a thought came upon me and I asked “Are you looking for a fat bitch?  Do come in as I would like to ask you if this is whom who seek.”  The woman did come in and did look at the photo whose head I had removed, but whose body lies on my fridge in remembrance.  She looked long and hard at it and another thought came upon me.  My I.D.s of then and now.  Upon the looking she seemed startled.  Granted I can’t quote her nor truly quote myself, but I can say that she stated that I altered myself into a different person that she would not have recognized and did not recognize.  She did recognize the woman whose ID I had and whose name is mine because we are one and the same.

She called her husband from the car and as they both approached my door, I asked them what do they know of zeros, circles, and eights.  Perhaps to anyone else entering my home the words might have rung as rather strange, but these individuals were content in my question.  He spoke more than she as we sipped our coffee.  He told me that our voices will be heard in space one hundred years from now.  He also mentioned that we are the cup and the contents (if speaking of the holy grail) and that the arch of the covenant box was empty.  We spoke of electric conduction as well.  As I am not religious, I did not take it as such nor did I feel he was bringing it forth as such.  Being that the whole situation of Doris and her husband coming to a place that no longer existed and to a woman who was not the same as last remembered was odd in itself.  Another thing he stated was that I should spread the word.  Mind you, I had been.  

On this night I truly questioned my sanity and called a friend in tears explaining what had happened.  What I have failed to mention here is that while I was sitting with them at the table I was also above and looking down at what seemed like a honeycomb whose activity seemed strange in the cell.  The cell were we sat was charged with light while the others were dim.  I was in two places at once.  I can’t even tell you what form I was.  To describe the way it appeared to me may seem odd, but what other way can I tell what I saw except to tell what I saw.  Perhaps now you can understand why I would question my own sanity at that point. 

You may wonder if I felt myself leave my body and I will tell you NO.  I was in both places.  My body was seated in a chair across from Doris’ husband and she was seated to my right.  When first I was above I saw the sitting of us as though I were on the ceiling.  However, I went higher to view in cell form this activity and how it looked from afar.  It was not an intentional move on my part, but this is what happened.

A similar experience happened when an angry man with guns told me how bad he was.  We altered our states and questioned the validity of what happened as it did not seem real to either one of us.  His name was Nicholas and I was at work when this happened. 

All this started because of incoming numbers several years ago.  What do you do when you really stink at math?  You play it out with your eyes open and question everything.  Now it does not seem odd to create and speak about it as best as I can to those who are open.  A few words on the wind brings forth conversation from real people in real life who are experiencing similar things.  If only I could with all I could muster bring to story or art the things that I see, but I could never do it justice nor might it be understood.

Why this is finally making it to virtual paper at this point is beyond me.  This is a TRUE STORY.   ~ Maggie ~ April 20, 2009 @ 9:40 p.m. EST

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