zouo

Are there other worlds, besides this one we wake up to morning after morning? Those we live in (through our dreams) melt away… sometimes almost at once, and in exceptional cases after a day or two, usually no more. But then, there are times in our lives when, accompanied by some intense surge of emotion, we seem to at least see into a world not exactly our own; and we leave it, we know it was not ours. Typically it is brighter and more vivid, a place where worldly worries fade or joy overrides them. Humanity has often tried to harness drugs (e.g., peyote, LSD) in order to retrace the steps to these worlds.

As a window into altered consciousness: a safe and drug-free window, I would suggest the highest rung of intensity that can be reached through orgasm. Such must be a joint effort of two partners (or three as an extreme) whose minds run on similar tracks. Surely, there are other worlds. Surely, as physics seems to suggest, there are threads which run through everything, including bridges across space and time. Can we understand some of what we are driven towards now, in connection to other places, other times? The girl who dreams of a perfect submission may have longed for a master in another place, who owned her but shunned her sexually and emotionally. The man who feels fulfillment on top of a yielding submissive young woman may have owned a young girl in another place; but felt the need to rein in his lust so as to avoid an embarrassing pregnancy or emotional connection. Do such "errors" from the past rush along threads to haunt us in the life?

Brings to mind the Doors (rock music) all those years ago, back in the '60s: girl we couldn't get much higher… not only rebellion from the past but a new future, opening.

An encounter in time: He had dreamed the past three nights the same dream: he never saw her face, nothing above her waist: only her bottom and the hole. He could see the hole close up. Then feeling restless he drove from town to the forest to walk on Glade Path. Parking and shouldering his pack, the man hiked through the timber amidst the deep still shadows of morning. And suddenly she was there, turning, facing him, her lips parted as if to speak. "You," he breathed. "Yes, Master, it is I; I have been waiting. Take me." "Hug a tree, slide down your shorts," and in a moment he had lubed her and was deep in her tender, yielding bottom. As he thrust in and out, he saw her blouse dissolve into a fringed garment, her skin and hair darken to tan: the forest, too, shifted before his eyes. Ferns wet with dew beneath towering ancient trees and the sharp scent of leaves in pristine, pure forest air, told him where he had come. "I live in the past," she whispered. "I cannot stay long. This is my secret place to meet my lover." And then, it was over. As his semen flowed into her she was gone, back to her time a thousand years before, and he fell to the ground, panting, changed forever by a brief trip to a world long gone, at the invitation of a dream maiden.