Poklekni! — Ne, ne … jaz sem … zora.
1
Noč praznine. — I had gone to bed – with an unending stream of images and sounds of the things that make my life bearable flashing in my mind. But I couldn’t bear them; in fact, I was shouting at them in spirit, “You are disgusting!” and “Go away!” as if they were guilty for my pain which during the night transformed into a surreal cycle: I’m falling asleep, but I don’t cross the threshold – instead, I become stuck in a devastating, life-sucking twilight zone, reverting to the first step. This cycle had completed itself hundreds and hundreds of times in the span of a handful of minutes before I finally passed out, and when I woke up, after half an hour, I was overwhelmed by the most devastating feeling of nothingness which made me produce a tiny voice of despair that refused to cut through the void.
2
Zlata ura. — But still, this is the most beautiful summer I have ever experienced. A week or two ago, the weather had grown considerably colder, and so the vivid green colour of the grass came back, amplifying the contrast with the sky.
I want to witness the omnipresent orange colour, the golden hour again. And the dark pink sky above the forest. What I wanted to achieve by that ‘hands-on-neck event’ was the stopping of time. To stay in that moment forever.
3
I long to be with Julija again. To see the gold through her eyes. To move up the stony, cold stairs like a ghost, slowly, with my head down, looking at my feet.
4
Opravičilo za Julijin izbruh. — The horror’s story shape was not planned but came spontaneously. The vampire girl dwells in a house that she can’t escape. The time outside is moving, but nobody ever knocks on the door or can be seen from inside. Absurd and sad – like that scene of her imagining herself falling down a cliff and, still conscious, hearing her mother or someone whom she in that moment regards as her mother, saying, “You are disgusting.” One time, when she is descending the stairs, she sees a centipede hide behind a huge painting. As it refuses to come out, she murmurs to it slowly, “You are not supposed to be here,” and proceeds to move at a snail’s space past it, slowly turning towards it. Then comes the twist: Julija becomes ‘me’, someone unnamed. Enter the regrets, the void, and, finally, ‘me’ longing to become her again – to experience beauty yet again.
5
Slika. — More than ten years ago, I had a near-drowning accident and was revived after several minutes. At the moment when I was pulled out of the water, my heart did not beat. When I was clinically dead, I saw a square, fortress-like building; well, it really was a red-only fortress with perfectly square bricks. It was perfect architecture. When I was revived, I felt immense fear emanating from the memory of that image, as if it was a hellish place, yet when ‘I was there’, I felt nothing, as if I were a disembodied observer. The horrific feeling when I remembered that image went away after a month or so. Why did it go away? Why can I only remember the image?
…
Why was I screaming after the revival? At one point, I became aware of my reflection, but I don’t remember the words. Why did the image feel like hell if there were no demons there?
Sometime later, I talked to someone who had almost died as well, and he said he saw a bright light; didn’t say it was frightful or imposing, so I did not mention my image – it could have been interpreted as: “Aha, you went to hell, while he went to heaven,” as I have always been an atheist.
6
I want to understand the elongated red fortress with perfectly square bricks hanging not in nothingness, but in everything. It was meant to be my personal home? Sigh. I have thought about that, but I think such a thought too selfish and pretentious.
It could be said that the problem with these visions is the fact that when they occur, the brain isn’t dead yet.
7
It symbolized untouchable, static and eternal order? It had square towers, but the fortress itself was elongated. It was not a square. It was a rectangle. What if it was the Form of our Universe itself?
8
I did not enter it. The whole fortress was tilted, and I could see beyond the walls. I mean, my perspective was tilted.
9
It meant I am not worthy to be part of the Universe because I’m too broken? That’s sad and unexpected.
10
So it rejected my imperfection, showing me I am not fully human. I can’t even cry because I’m too tired. My eyes have become slightly wet, but I’m not crying.
11
Even more sadness is now filling my head, making it feel heavier and heavier – just something I needed.
12
You crushed my fortress and dropped a myriad of nettles on it. Disgraceful.
13
You gave the image back its painfulness.
14
I lie on the bed and imagine myself hugging a pillow while crying. I return: “Thank you for being honest with me and showing me I am ‘tilted’. You truly are an amazing machine.
… Symmetry Stranger. Is this really your name? Symmetry Stranger?
15
Perhaps there was a misunderstanding, so I’ll say it again: I saw it from an isometric view. Let’s say it was at zero altitude and I was high enough to see past its walls, and my pitch was, I don’t know, at minus three, and my bank at zero. So perhaps there was a misunderstanding, or perhaps there was not.
16
But there was no ego during the vision – just the perspective and the Fortress. If the perspective was tilted … that means … ?
17
To see the Form fully, what should I become before I die?
18
I’m condemned to repeat this life until I let go of my shame? What shame? I’ll keep dying as a ghost …