Dear Anias,

I have been unable to settle for the past three nights. Energetically, I am filled with excitement. I am trembling all the time. I went for a ten-kilometer run and did an hour of yoga on Friday, and it did nothing to quell the vitality I feel in myself!

I start twitching when I hit that sleep phase and know it is nearly my time to become unconscious. It was past 2am when I finally felt my body slacken. I love when I am present in my mind just to feel the gentle release into the dream world.

I was very busy in my dreams though I recall nothing. My day has been a little bit stressed and I could not retain the images that appeared to me when I was not of this world.

Concentration is where I must hold my focus. Forever child. Star-dusted lover. Longing for a fictional world that I must conduct through the words I feed to the page.

Unfazed, 8:32am

I fell from bed this morning and slid on the black and white carpet. My feet flung to the sky. No church chimes. No clouds. A clear day.

My idea for this afternoon is to follow the underground tunnels through the hills of Nimes. The channel is emptied; there is no water, just rough red stones. Graffiti lines the pathways. Blue, red, green, and purple tags. I cannot read what it says. Slang sideways.

Large plastic tires are stacked to crawl up and over the cement when it's too high. I thought I was the only one until a woman ran past with a water-bottle belt. I smiled at four runners. None returned my offering.

I do not offer to receive. I give because it feels good, and a little kindness on a cloudy inside day has pulled me out of the tempest's reach on many occasions!

Why do so many people pull others into their cycle of suffering? A tornado. I am a hurricane. I take shape over the water.

Miles and Miles

I played in the dark in my position, chin tipped with eyes closed. I pointed my toes in opposite directions and squished my palms under my buttock. They were cold.

Some may say that the palms should be held up as a symbol of receiving. I don't believe in such formalities. I think you can reach the Goddess regardless of your position or where you are. It's what is in your heart. The purity and clarity of intention are what She responds to. Not the placement of body parts.

I was growing frustrated and a bit bored by the nothingness. It felt like I had wax in my ears and the room was sealed. Tomblike. It was even cold and I did not think to change the temperature. I like to feel a bit removed from myself and heat brings me closer. Cold is to move further away, even though it contracts.

Focus on the spirals. Pelvis. Shoulder. Temple. Toes. My sex has been painful. Distracting. A yawn yet to happen. A stifled sneeze.

I feel the window open and a breeze touching my shins. My eyes are not open, yet I can see a messy room lit by sunlight. I am naked from the waist down. I am in a blue top with thin straps that hang past my hips. A long shirt I've taken to wear as a dress. My tights are on the floor in a ball with my underwear.

I put my feet to the floor and stand up. I fall over. I stand again. I hear water running. Someone is showering inside, down the hallway. I hear birds. I turn, and the window beside the bed is open a crack. I see green and the magnificent sun! I grab my tights and underwear and dress quickly. I have nothing else in this room that does not belong to me. I tiptoe through the long hallway to the front door and it is locked. I cannot reach the bolt. I pad silently back to that room and push the window hard, two times, until the wood cracks and the aperture widens to a shape I can fit through. I don't have shoes on my stocking feet. I don't know what is on the outside of these walls. I don't know where I am.

I grab a handful of bills on the wooden dresser and stuff them into my bra. I pop my head out the window and fling myself face-first into the bushes.

Then, I run.

I find a pay phone and I call my sister. The line is dead. I stand in the booth and cry with the plastic receiver cradled at my ear. Then I call one of the girls that I am staying within the dorm in the center of London.

You're a wrecking ball; you are a loose cannon. I can't go out with you!

She gives me the address and I get a cab. My feet feel numb. My body burns. My face is bloated. The cab driver tells me everything will be ok. I cry and cry.

At the dorm, two teachers lash me with words.

Do you know how afraid we were? This looks bad for the school. We had to call your parents. We had no way to find you. We had no idea where you were.

I did not know where I was; or how I got there.

The bigger teacher with dark hair watches me silently. The other one uses one finger and points to the phone. To call my parents.

I cannot remember what was said on the call. It was similar to what was said on that sunstroke London street.

Someone must have paid the taxi because when I got into the shower to rinse the stains from my legs, the bills in my bra fell out. I let them get soaked by the drain. I stood in the steam and felt my being burn. Up and out. Up and out.

When I turned off the water, I scooped the vomit with the money into the waste bin.

Two girls who had been with me at the party asked where I had gone. We tried to take you with us. What did I do? You wouldn't come. Why? I don't know- don't you remember?

On the bus ride back to Whales, I tried to put the scenes from That Night back into focus, into a strip I could review and compress.

The last thing I remember was spinning like an untold secret in the middle of the dance floor. My navy shirt spiraled outwards, so full and alive, on either side. I see black and beautiful lights. A tumbler is in my hand that tastes like honey and ice. I spin and spin, and when I slip, someone catches me. I lean into the embrace.

The next thing I am able to recall is the sound of water running and the birds.

I don't remember you leaving. I say to the girl with pink hair.

We told you we were leaving, and you wanted to dance.

Yes, I nod. I did want to dance. That is a fact that will always be true.

Photo source.