Somehow, as I progress into the mortuary hues of adulthood, there remains a few vibrant smudges of childhood, these fantastic memories of what increasingly feels like a previous life.
But, these are not the keepsakes of Baseball With Dad or Grandma’s Homecookin’, a nostalgia influenced or defined by the psychological programmers of American Advertising, my memories rebranded and monetized to stir the consumer spending of adulthood…
Hell, they are, I realize, not necessarily memories, but dreams; the vividness unwilling to fade.
These are not nightmarish dreams of indelible trauma, but spectacular skyscapes of some visionary science fiction auteur, the backyard of my childhood home the setting for their futuristic tableaus.
In my dream, I’m engulfed by midnight, that seemingly impenetrable, indigenous variety of rural darkness that only the twinkle of stars can puncture.
I’m standing on the back deck, its wooden slats and latticework railing stretching into the darkness, my dreaming body feeling as though it’s floating in an abyss.
I look up, staring into the infinite expanse of constellations and flaring meteoroids.
When I turn, there is an immense planet looming in the sky, its proximity defying rationality and physics.
There is a moment, when I reach to touch it…
In another dream, the sky is a whorl of sunset pastels, the world infused with an unusual pinkish-coral light.
Again, I’m on the deck of my childhood home, staring up into a colossal planetary sphere, it’s presence somehow unable to inflict a Hollywood-like destruction of Earth.
Below me, in the yard, there are amazed onlookers.
Once again, my hand reaches out, fingers nearly grazing the curvature of the planet…
Of course, over the years, zealous conspiracy theorists have promulgated tales of an extraterrestrial planet whose 4,0000 year old elliptical orbit of the sun would soon align with our own Earth.
This Planet X or Nibiru would then commence its trek toward Earth, its encroachment disrupting the gravitational and environmental rhythms of our planet, until that final, cataclysmic collision.
Humanity would be obliterated.
But, as some conspiracy theorists say, our souls, our true essence, would then be freed from the shackles of our skin and bones. We, as universal sovereign souls, could stream through the universe, experiencing new forms, new planets, until returning to our creator, Source.
I bet you weren’t expecting that, were you, Dear Reader?
This quirky, damn Aquarian got you.
Alright, I admit, I’m also an Indigo Child, here to utilize my spirit of satire to enlighten your soul, rekindle your dormant frequencies.
Or, I am a prophet.
But, all kidding aside, just know, that this age of Here We Are Now, Entertain Us is ending, my children…