‘those that forget history are condemned to repeat it,’ i conjectured myself with new england lutheran perspective as i walked to the oak door of a chateau. didn’t know how i got here but i somewhat knew why my presence was acknowledged. the superstructure apparently looked like a 35-year-old mansion of some pundit’s tuscany estate. although the location of both our entities couldn’t be pinpointed out on a map, this edifice was literally well-kept like it was erected and preserved like a glass menagerie. four white dorian-style columns manifested authority on the facade with intricate symmetry. touched one of them; the sensation of its cold, coarse eggshell texture instantly gave chills to my spine. beside the inner columns were 2 cherubs staring at me blankly. studying their voluptuous designs made me presume that their maker had a penchant for the aesthetic outlook of marxist era. looked back and gazed across acres of lawn stretching around its facade. different shades of green grass were amplified by the afternoon sun; an ambience similar to a fast-forward motion of rolling clouds. the breeze gently shoved my body through the door entrance.
the foyer looked somewhat familiar despite my antecedent visit. walls were filled with rembrandt paintings while the chandelier above made a dazzling reflection through each frame’s glass cover. as i approached one of his masterpieces, their appearances suddenly started becoming hazy. the etchings transposed themselves into flashbacks of my current memories, relatively last week’s. from one portal emanated an image of my lady whipping up some home made dran-o while i brushed the mildew off the shower curtain. i glanced at another one and it portrayed quick images of news columns like they were coming out of a printing press. even though i didn’t get a chance to read every word, i knew the typical dossiers were those i read every morning. the rolling images made an abrupt stop, and the texts started peeling away from the paper, morphing into real life images about world events. ghost-like video replicas of the bloody insurgencies in iraq, the electoral debates, chiron and a shortage of flu shots, and so on and so forth. i briefly stared at each glaring image and felt like i was swimming in the same crystal lake with each experience. bluish waves ebbing from their outlines made their way through the middle of my highest chakra, an impetus to keep abreast of reality that made these icons stick to me like scars of yesterday.
i woke up sitting on a leather-clad lazy chair. i was right in front of a hearth of some huge room. the place was gigantic, more of a library, but with historical artifacts that i couldn’t recognize. the fire glowed brighter, its embers floating like fireflies past me. i enjoyed the euphoric silence like i was under the influence of old-school green clovers, but much more of a natural high. stacks of books almost reached the arm rest beside me. their titles were those that my eyes frequented time and again. fundamental, technical and chart analysis; the psychology of a gestalt shift, understanding the minds of the affluent, all that deemed practicable and applicable to life. to the east side of the room was a wall filled with dissertations and literary work that i’ve yet to look into; like the discovered palace of the late genghis khan: an accounted classic and late bloomer in the annals of ancient history. the windows were about 20 feet high, replicating moonlight shadows on the floor. i couldn’t see what was on the outside, like castlevania in the making. still, the evening gales kept blowing the silk curtains. it must be evening since i’ve been here. or maybe twilight. this must be a place where all privacy was needed. a place of study and rest, a place of recuperating from lashings of the outside world – refreshing oneself with more useful information to get away and beat the system – and make the most out of life. this was essentially every da vinci mentality’s secret garden.
i found my way to a door despite the study’s virtual darkness. the door did not close behind me, its hinges probably had a locking mechanism. an inch past it and the opening turned into a transparent glowing portal. i turned around and saw myself overlooking at a hall that was half the size of a football field. the gold-plated railings i was leaning on inferred that i was two flights higher. overlooking downstairs and still not a soul nearby. on each side were doors that have already been propped open. all of them also had these glowing portals similar to the study’s. walking through each door was like deja vu. couldn’t point out if i’ve been through each despite the finicky feeling. peering into each room was as big as the study that i came from, only that on every room fit each of my personal hobbies and endeavors. i was walking forever, studying each room with distinction and acquaintance. steven wright would have said that i was that same mime going nuts when my neighbor was playing a blank tape at full blast. with each floor combed, i came to the end of a hall where a door had not been opened. going past it led me to another claustrophobic room that had 4 adjacent doors covering the entire wall. heavy duty locks have been bolted to secure them, and to each door was a sign saying luck, open mindedness, resilience, and a variety of wealth: all but elixirs to a monotonous plan that not all are willing to commit their entire lives to. i believe i was one of them.
counter-factual thinking told me that this was the end of the journey. for now. uncharted waters like a wish to play sepultura’s ‘territory’ on drums. i reached for my pocket and doodled notes to this second personal inquiry: the blindspot aura. a fridge popped out from nowhere so i clutched the note underneath a magnet. looking at an old list posted on the same fridge door also reminded me of my active days.
pay to play era:
mon: hip hop dance lessons, volleyball till 10pm
tue: kung fu
thurs: kung fu
sun: tai chi, run along the beach
and then total lightness…
i opened my eyes and stared at the window. i was back home, in the darkened room and the time was 2:30am. the window emitted a strange glow but i couldn’t figure out its message. it was as if i was the light moving all over the place. out of my mind’s mansion and back to reality. oh, there goes gravity. ok that was from eminem. haha held back, down to the pillow, and underneath the sheets. even though i’m not a big fan of tv, classical tv fm should be a good program for late night viewing.