Sunday, March 24, 2013

RENATE SAYS....... 3/25/13

I don't know where it happened. But I met the Lady Renate, as I sublimated into the air upon leaving the vast, Laurel Hill Cemetery. And the circumstances caused me to lose all sense of myself. Was I conscious? I don't know, yet the actual molecules of my body no longer existed. I was thought. I was mind. I was soul. And so was she. 

We swirled together like goldfish in a Disney cartoon and in that way communicated. She knew of my dreams. Renate knows everything. Older even than 'Papa' she is... and even more detached from humanity... To her, even 'we' fall under that umbrella. I rather like that. You know what a moral 'life-eater' I am. 

She told me to proceed. She told me to have courage. And she gave me a kiss. Not in any way physical, but more like a point of connection... Like that picture high up in the Sistine Chapel where a paganized representation of The Lord quickens the soul of Adam. Only, in this case, my vampiric grandmother  had no physicality. I wonder how Michelangelo would have painted her.

But I felt strengthened and emboldened by this nebulous encounter and as I condensed into a material state, I heard her words.... 'Start with one.'... Moments later, I became aware of a grey, limitless ethereal cloud. Soon after, I saw contrasting areas of light and dark. Then I stepped out onto the dim, nighttime, marble expanse of The Goddess Diana Hall at The Philadelphia Museum of Art, as authentic an Olympian shrine as any Roman ever saw.

A figure stood there amid the gloom... an innocent woman... and by that I mean guileless. She was a patron, purposefully locked in for the night and hiding from the guards. Can you do that in these myriad halls and galleries? Of course you can. One man did so for years, padding along in an old pair of Chuckies, dozing in the deepest shadows and kissing the paintings of long dead signorinas in the night.

Sometimes the guards know they're there, though they chose to ignore these quiet intruders. You can tell a thief, but these are something else.  They sit and they stare and they ponder. Occasionally one phantom will spot another, but they never talk and rarely make eye contact, passing through corridors like wraiths in the darkness.

I soundlessly approached her, as only vampires can. Did she know what I was? I don't think so. Yet she didn't move. She didn't leave, or make a sound. Then in the moonbeams slanting down through high, leaded clerestory windows she saw me... and her eyes quickly blinked in surprise.

But she was the first one.... and I gave her my 'blessing...' .... After that it was easier......

(more tomorrow)
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