by Molly MacManamy |
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Indiana in the year 1948 |
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Time stops for me during the auras that have been plaguing me for the last
five months. During the auras, or “dreamy states” as a pioneer in brain disorders coined them,
an indescribable pleasure, like gossamer descending from heaven, falls over me. My perception
of the world changes, and yet everything becomes uncannily familiar as though it has all
happened before in a by-gone time. Past and present become one, and time not yet known lies
just a breath beyond the translucent veil that separates me for the elusive unknowable. My
sense of déjà vu and divine omniscience is so keen I feel I must surely know what is about
to happen next. The prescience is so acute as to give me mental pain because of its inevitable
unfulfillment. And then, as suddenly as it came, the elevation of consciousness is gone, and
I return to the commonplace. There is something in my head that doesn’t belong there. That something is the cause of my “dreamy states” and that something will also cause my death. But there is something I must do before I’m gone. If only I have time. |
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Copyright © 2005 Richard D. Taylor
by Lucena A. Taylor