Heaven: A magic carpet, trapping, and small fires.

Date: 11/15/2016

I was sitting on a magick carpet floating over this beautiful scene moving, artifical, of clouds that resembled the sea. If I squinted I could pretend it was real and I really was in the sky floating among beautifully perfect clouds of red and pink and white, or sometimes the color scheme changed and they were gradients of blue. My eyes focused on a glass someone sat down on the table beside me, it was of a brand I had never heard of, a brand which advertised it was for your mother, and it had awesome stuff inside, it was organic, and had flowers and stuff in the water. But in order to even buy it you had to have a monthly subscription of two dollars a day, or three a day, or 4 a day. There were different options. It was too expensive for me right now so I wrote in my journal about it, took a picture to remind me, hoping I would check back in the journal later in life when I had the money. I happened to flip through the journal, and it wasn't empty as I had thought. A few times, a very small few because the journal was huge and thick, but there were four or five different pages of me whining at different times about how I missed my ex girlfriend. It was little letters, streams of consciousness really, that felt pathetic to me when I read them over again after all that time. But even as I felt this way I turned the journal over and began writing on the last page, which was the back because apparently the back was missing, then I scratched it out and moved to the inner part of the journal, not wanting people to be able to read just anything by picking up the book and flipping it over. I began writing about my ex then too, about missing her in the same voice and words with the same meaning. Well different words but really very much the same. And when I wrote it again I had genuine sadness and feeling. Unlike when I read what I wrote and felt it was pathetic whining. I was a little boy and I was chatting with family I hadn't seen in a while. Or ever. My grandma, she was teaching me about fishing. Or trapping. And my heritage. I was shocked to hear I had black ancestry, I looked so white. And so did she. But she was nodding telling me the truth, and I could see it in her memory a little baby girl from long ago, which confirmed it. It was interesting to me. In the back of my mind I conected my heritage with my ex, wondering if that was why I had been attracted to her, because we shared ancestry. But then my grandma pulled out a trap, and we started talking about trapping? Fishing maybe. The entire time we had this conversation I was in a boat, bobbing on some invisible sea in the sky, and she was on some barely visible/tangible dock in the sky. It was like fishing in heaven. I definitely recall thinking "I was the son of a fisherman, who lived his whole life by the sea, I knew about traps," and then she pulled out this real beauty of a trap, expensive, and capable of doing just about anything. I was very impressed. I was at my grandparents home and they were having problems with the family business. Fish or traps were beautiful, but grandpa was having to retire. Someone was forcing him out. Apparently he was injured and couldn't do much work. He said he was going to the fair, and couldn't spend the day with me. He had to sell fish all day at the fair and would be gone. But he clearly wasn't feeling well. So I decided to help him and let him steer the magic carpet which I went along with, so he could feel like he was in control. But we only flew around the house, he had that much trouble with his memory, kept turning. Several times he got it wrong but I kept helping him, finally I just took over steering when avocado mash got in the ignition and he couldn't fit the key in for the third time. The keyhole was also the pin which held the wheel in place as well. It felt like I was going to fly him out on my back, but suddenly we opened the door and there was fire. The street outside was on fire, then it disappeared and it appeared the roof was on fire. Grandpa was convinced it was the neighbors who did it trying to drive him out. He and I put the fire out successfully, but the neighbor had killed our dog in the process. He had done so weeks before to our other two dogs, said grandpa. I was weeping and banging on the neighbors door, accusing them of having killed our dog. I did this a hundred times maybe. Each time the man came out yelling he hadn't killed our dog, and he had fists clenched and I felt each time he was going to hit me, but he never did. But I keep banging, and yelling, and weeping. Then I went back inside and found grandpa and mom in the back room, grandma came home just then and checked on everyone, having heard about the fire. She first check grandpa, and them mom, and then she and mom focused on me, asking questions I couldn't answer. Like where were you, where was grandpa, were you with grandpa. At first I answered i was with him at the hospital and the i got confused because I knew I hadn't gone to the hospital only he had. Then I worried I hadn't taken him to the hospital and I should have. Mom actually wrote down my reply and I began to get the feeling either I had been hurt in the fire and really confused about the details or something was wrong with my interpretation of what had happened. Or I had done something wrong, yes it felt like something was wrong with me. Or that they thought something was wrong with my memory. And my head did feel cloudy, truths changed. So maybe.