If I can recall the circumstances of the situation with any precision whatsoever, I believe the evening gave one

the distinct impression of being an abnormally ominous evening, made blatantly evident to anyone who took time to direct their gaze upwards. The sky was distinctly pregnant with an apparently malevolent denigration. Being long overdue in the excretion of its burdening taint, the sky had been overcome with an acute desire to rid itself, as quickly as it possibly could, of the compounding of toxins that festered within itself; the cruelly nebulous hue that constitutes the color of the manifestation of this furuncle cannot be easily mistaken for being noxious or innocent. Appearing as a conspicuously portentous silhouette that hung ostensibly suspended in the raw, biting air of a somnolently parturient firmament, this pestilential shade understood the value of timing in the execution of a plan and had been plotting since its inception. That about which it plotted was unknowable, however, it maintained what seemed to be at least a mild, but consistent interest in the goings-on that took place within the area that constituted its range of sight. Scrutinizing the aforementioned realm, the malignant caliginosity surveyed with an superficially annoyed sort of disinterest out of the corner of one heavy-lidded eye, the other remained

firmly closed, as though refusing to allow itself to be bothered until something, for all intents and purposes, worthy of its attention were to transpire within the realm that constitutes its domain. Remiss in my retreat to the familiar, comforting refuge of my boudoir, I continued on in my mission, traveling to College Eight. I made it back to Eight, but walked with a gait distinctly marked by a slight edge, my stomachuneasy, electing to take a set of stairs set adjacent to the Red Room. This path, which is habitually frequented by myself, is my usual route. Although, the former statement must not be allowed to delude one with a false sense of certain predictability or triteness, as it is not necessarily veracious nature, nor was the act so common as to be derived as an insinuation thereof given the particular occasion and the laggard hour. The time was bothering me, as was the ambiance of the evening, so I picked up my pace a bit more Still, I was continued onward, pulling my coat tightly about myself against the was abruptly stricken by such a pressing internal imperative as to directly revolve myself, then and there, on the spot, and to engage this mysterious, enigmatic individual whose arty presence was the fountainhead of a cascade so intensely profound in terms of its progression of form of stasis and conveyance of

sentiment, my mind was forced into a state of unmitigated awe and wonder. Overtaken by a ubiquitous ocean of brine sensation, fecundated by this sudden, exuberant and dynamic outpouring of verve, I was subjected to a dappling of extraordinary feeling radiating from the undulating deluge as it continued its descent. Its motion away from its sire, toward the object of its desire, beholden of my essence, thoroughly sousing me with, then tantalizing but later stifling, bouts of stimulation of my physical senses upon which I am so reliant for perceiving: sight, touch, gustation, auditory, and olfactory. The affects upon my reality by this harbinger of the strange being included causing me to sense everything at once; the stimulation was so distressing, though, I lost all ability to perceive with my regular senses, seeing as how they became overloaded with too much sensory input. I had exhausted what little energy that remained within myself in my attempt to absorb the full enormity of this creature as well as its anthropomorphic presence, which, seemingly, had a mind of its own. In doing this, I was made privy to a secret magnificence that belongs only to such an anomalous spectacle, however, I was bombarded with a flurry of pungent odors, tastes, unreal visions, imagined pressures, temperatures, sounds, and seemingly random focuses of

balance. Some were agonizingly appealing, while others were pleasantly repugnant; it was arduous work to establish a distinction of amplitude and frequency between the spectrums of sensation that provided the most impact, depth or the widest range of those sensations; the aroused and subdued amplitudes of light, the vividness and dullness of colors, the frenzied and serene redolence of odors, the delectable and repulsive gustations, the sensations of boiling, freezing, up, down, rough, and soft experienced all at the same time made distinguishing each individual sensation difficult. The preceded its progenitor in a

heraldic manner as its masters foreshadow. Replete with the clamor, uproar and tumult of a stampede of rhinoceroses, in opposition to this former essence, it was also contemporaneously as well as paradoxically marked by the distinctly gentle babble of water passing over tiny, smooth pebbles of a stream. At this point, I was powerless to simply continue on and ignore this prismatic imposition of sensation; so, I turned around. It was in that ephemeral instant of incapacity, myself being deprived of the particular volition and coherence of which I had been in possession, though seemingly eons ago, was in actuality mere seconds ago; their positions of power and control with regard to the governance of my being and its actions had

been usurped by the opportunistic phenomenon of wonder that was then the surge, enveloping and surrounding me entirely. Any and all previous knowledge or understanding of what reality was, is, will or would be was instantaneously shattered with this shift in authority and command of thought, and removed from my mind all forms of thought. Upon beholding this vision of perfection, I was made witness to, independent of the communion that would be subsequently sanctified between us and the knowledge that would be later garnered by its sanctification, the exact nature of this creature and what its maintenance of self meant in relation to my own: I had gifted with the glory of being in the presence of my exact opposite. It was in this state of delirium that I, being liberated from the shackles of limited mono-perception intrinsic to the abstraction that is my mortal coil and in turn ascending to a new, higher state-of-mind, thus enabling me to realize a capacity for using a certain latent sense of which I had been previously unaware due to its nature as a generally subconscious form of perceiving. I label this sense as true sense, and by dint of such perception, I was able to experience the world as it actually was for the first time: a vacuous expanse deficient of any objects beyond this other and myself maintaining our ubiety at the narthex of

conjointment. Anticipation and tranquility, the superseding sensations that were so extremely palpably apparent, smothered and choked out all essays at cognitive thought or logical reasoning. Consummation of the reunion of our two separate selves into our one, true form was all that mattered. Though no communion of any sort had yet occurred between the two of us in the real sense, our existences had been communing with each other since the time of their inception; in the form of an eternal dance of courtship involving the binding our two selves to this space and this time, we had been bound for this junction of dimension and the juxtaposition of our beings within this unique and inimitable singularity We were drawn together and though no words were uttered, the understanding that made itself known to the both of us was so apparent that I realized I had never really understood anything before that moment, and now, imbued with this new-found comprehension, I was then capable of understanding everything else. No abstractions such as demeanor existed to impede our union. We were fire and ice, the sun and the moon; night and day. Opposites made

Oh Meray, how time has passed us by. Do I say that often, or this deja vu really justified? Either way, I

appreciate the shout out, and miss you very much. How much, though, I think may be impossible to know. I think back to those golden days of summer and laughter in which we shared and knew ourselves with each other as something else. I often find myself wishing things to be as they once were, as I once knew them to be, but, as it must, time continues its endless propulsion of the varied illusions we cling to as being our selves to places other than where they were before: to the elsewhere. From frame to frame, time's timeless game of change leaves us torn and broken when compared to the form we recall as being the origin of that which we maintain in the present. With only the knowledge of having experienced that former manner of existence, we thus look to the comfort of familiarity, fostered by our recollection of the past contemporaneously held in the face of and in conjunction with the strikingly foreign environment in which we encounter ourselves as being to lend a false sense of security as we make our way along the path carved out for us by the overall internal movement of the uni/multiverse(s). We, as creatures bound by the dimensions of time and space, and the countless others that we cannot perceive, must strive to recognize those pillars also existing within their realm(s) of perception that they feel as generating a wavelength of energy through the of

motion and interaction of that body with other perceptible bodies within the same realm(s) with a frequency equal to the natural frequency of the beholder's vessel.