Journeys of the Mind, (C)1994-2004 A. Alexander Volenski Chapter 3, unedited excerpts Location: Monte Carlo Characters: Stilly & Harry (they're getting closer). Time: Spring/Summer. Monte Carlo Traveing within the spectrum arch of a rainbow, the language of the past twirls as its sounding song pings along. Stilly stood on the terrace of the villa, engrossed in her memories, recalling when she was a little girl watching just such a rainbow with her parents. As the rain fell in clouded sheets from the storm, it was illuminated by the hue of the sun. The summer cloudburst which traveled over Monte Carlo, sent lightning across the sky, loud rumbling thunder everywhere; the air was cool but soothing, and released a freshness to be breathed in completely. Stilly was standing on the terrace deck high up overlooking Monte Carlo, a city and harbor of The Principality of Monaco. The villa where she stood was the one she had imagined with a staircase, and she had leased it for the summer. The sudden afternoon shower fell upon her head, streamed down her shoulders and trickled through her blouse onto her breasts and back as she gazed from the open deck and looked toward the sea; riffled and dark were the waves. The rain with its storm cloud moved rapidly eastward along the coast. It met the sky as it moved, expanding within a silhouette of itself, layer upon layer of cloud, rolling churning merging gaining momentum, and projecting a powerful image of force. Black foreboding clouds, gray pale clouds, lighter higher white clouds, and they all seemed outlined here and there with pen or pencil. As Stilly watched, the sun peeked out and shone upon a high dark marauding cloud as a deep rumbling sound of thunder pushed its way across the sea and city below. Like a giant sea-wave racing ashore, the sound of thunder came reverberating with its sonic pulse as it sped to reach up and touch her. The thundering jolt with its KA-THUD! sent shivers through her body as it passed through, and she trembled, and her heart seemed to flutter and vibrate, while her legs and thighs tingled. After the stormy detonation, everything below and surrounding the villa, became very still, no breeze blew, all that was present became quiet, silence everywhere. And far out at sea, Stilly viewed the turmoil and turbulence of the storm with its flash of lightening striking and sizzling. ...Stilly was a woman of medium height with a good figure, her features were pleasant and carried a sort of unspoken humility. Her face pretty, seemed to radiate a high degree of compassion; she was a natural blond with very light brown eyes, hazel with specks of blue, and her skin was as smooth as silk. There was a seriousness to her personality which simplified her expressions into a character both stern yet forgiving... ...Pouring a glass of champagne and looking at the rain splash against the windows, she reflected how water from the sky was so clear just as the air, yet how unclear yesterday and tomorrow could be with its mixture of concealment... ...It is not easy to capture a man in dream, especially when he was a man of time and free to move everywhere. There were so many of them, she thought, and still he, this special one, was different from the others. Many times a day her heart would flutter and skip as a butterfly would fly by, and then suspend a little as it paused as though to speak, and then it would fly on. What did that mean, and was it a manifestation from him to herself, or herself to herself, or a combination of them both? Or was it purely just the nature of things alive in the flourishing summer. ..."Sing to my mind love," Stilly sang to herself, "sing to my mind and look into the nude mirror of my body, and see all there is to see." Touching her lips, her fingers flowed over their smoothness sending thoughts of kissing and passion to her mind. Love cannot survive imprisoned, it will not allow itself to be confined, and will always seek and find that which is of it, and then turn safely on. Passion, erotica, sensuous desire, all have many languages and expressions, and can be experienced beyond the touch, with just as much pleasure; many have been there. One is often in love with a little more than they are near, and in the turn of the day and light of the moon only the crickets should sing that tune. The kiss encloses a spell of color, bridging the mind to another mind with enchantment and unknowns. A kiss, Stilly pondered sipping the champagne, is very like a merging of sky and sea, both privately alive, both willing to share, yet still held to the identity of what they really were. As the kiss touched, it brought a merge like the sky and sea merge, or as the minds of two do merge as upon the interval, the moment, an instant with a vista both physical and natural. A kiss becomes that marvel which guides the minds of two into a realm of oneness. Sweet glowing kiss surges as natural beautiful passion links. A kiss is never alone, and will ever be there, just as heaven and sea, both separate, yet ever touching and ever powerful, will always be there; a kiss communicates with our vastness and bridges to all that is hidden there. The perpetual identity, so mysterious so open so unrecognized, and in so many ways not really wanting to know what it is; the kiss knows the identity, the kiss sees all, yet often remains silently just a kiss. ...Harry had slipped his way through the mazes of Monte Carlo quickly and smartly to a broker's office that always could produce a place for him to stay, a place somewhat removed from the busy turmoil of the city. Isaac Newton (Harry's broker), found a fine villa for him high above the city, a quite removed residence with all the needs, transportation, and comforts which someone like Harry would find necessary during his stay on the Riviera. Harry unpacked his luggage in the middle of the storm, was totally soaked unloading the car, and settled in feeling comfortable and at home; also very relaxed once he showered and put on dry clothes. The storm had passed and the evening eased into a quiet darkness and drizzle. Harry sat at a small green marble table which faced the deck of the villa with a large walled window in between, between where he sat and the outside terrace. The city below could be seen clearly shrouded in the fog and glow from the many night lights. He was glad to finally be there, and wondered to himself how his stay in Monte Carlo would be. He also wondered if he would ever see Melody again, considering the circumstances and events that their first meeting had entailed at the Noble Bar in Savona. And also, what of 'the Geneva Lady,' the one who really had sparked it all, spurring him on this journey which led him to the line of events of this time and place. ...Pouring another drink, Harry smiled and reflected that life in many ways seemed like something from out of a book. He pondered too, of who might have outlined his, or had he written his own, and now merely lived it out, making changes as he went, revisions, adding and reshaping, as fate placed the final period to it all. Each major episode a chapter, each new development becoming many pages, all paragraphed in sentences to the terms of the living. The caring heart, like a poetic journey, traced as it went (the mind imprints), within a blend, and found itself often creating more than a rhythmic pulse; a heart pulse made to dance in certain ways. The dancer within the heart moved to the melody it felt, not the melody it heard, for all is in a spontaneous progression. The ever-after always linked to the ever-before, both forging for themselves a continuum of conveyance, placing in motion the ever-present. The present, uninterrupted and continuous, running gradually from one unbroken succession to the next, found in itself that which was always there, the caring heart. The mind ever attempting to be free of false domination, discovered itself governed by the will, and that will, extended always toward a resolve which reasoned with the caring heart. In this symmetrical complexity, common ground was established for both wills, the will of the heart, and mind, both to bind a simplicity, a fashioned design called 'love'. ...Harry walked out onto the terrace and looked down to the city below, the fog was gone and glancing to his left toward the horizon, a glimmer of light shown as dawn and a new day approached. He didn't feel tired nor restless in any way; the energy within him was completely awake, true precise, a feeling he liked to have and always be part of...for it evolved a kind of meditation... ...Stilly was in one of those day-dream states of mind which one often found themselves in right after awaking. The reflecting sparkle of the crystals (in the large aquarium) mesmerized her as though the crystals spoke, and suddenly her mind cleared sending a sudden realization and awareness through her. For as she concentrated upon a person, place, or thing, all shown in well-defined pictured clearness within her mind; an invisible power in crystal? There were a variety of crystals in all shapes and sizes in the aquarium, carvings too, figures of fishes turtles sunken treasure chests, ships, everything one would expect to find in the aquatic world were displayed there all in crystal or precious stone material. Jade, Lapis Lazuli, Quartz, Amber, Black Coral...Malachite, Serpentine, Turquoise, synthetic gems...and it was one of these which sparkled with sunlight that caught her eye; a faceted synthetic blue sapphire gem. This sapphire reflected a plush blue (deep), a rich glow, a kissing kind of blend that seemed to speak through any imagined barrier. It was then that Stilly suddenly remember the white dog and the gem it wore, from the dream at Clare's on spiraled staircase. Reaching into the aquarium she picked up the sapphire gem, and taking it out, held it up to the sunlight. The large faceted sapphire sparkled and twirled the light, its bluish hue was spectacular. Apocalyptic midnight-blue, no-green or violet, a blue from the center of blue spectrum, with perhaps a filtered cobalt or gold tint. Very cool transparent pure-clear, Lapis Lazuli, was paled compared to the gem she held. She took the sapphire over to the bar and placed it in a martini glass, then stood for awhile staring into it, trying to recall her dream of the white dog whose collar held just such a gem. As she looked into the sapphire, its color seemed to be hypnotic with a pulling excitement, yet she realized that its beauty and color probably gave her that sensation. There were feelings of awake-sleep in the glow, like an Endymion trance soothed by the sweetness of surrounding blue-bells, with a touch from amorous Selene; Selene, sweet comely moon, kissing earthy handsome Endymion. A dazing reverie seemed to flutter within a glow of its own, like the dear sweet moon that glows above, ever looking to dear Earth with love. The cascading refraction of blue sapphire hues seemed to be sent to kiss all that one knew. The sapphire was as a blue midnight glow surrounded by a spray of dew, which glistened and sparkled like stars above. It felt as if Dawn and sweet Eos, both looked too, to sapphire blue. The glow of this gem was as though from an aery place that reposed deep near blackness, perhaps only on the fringes of darkness it stayed, never allowing one to enter that veiled unlit shadowy realm of obscurity, ever pulling back to clearness of light. A glow it radiated which seemed to marry-light to darkness, perhaps, Hades himself would know the sweet lingering, blue sapphire blue holds. Powerful, elusive, allusive, provocative, seductive, with sensual passions, aura beauty sublime, sapphire blue cradled gently in crystal martini glass, handsome too this gem, Stilly thought. It was so attractive to her sight, her eyes seemed to be caressed, soothed, enticed to enter and glide upon the velvet blue deep spell within; all to be aroused with passions of the copious bountiful kind, profuse with natural pleasure. Her gentle potential and conceivable intellect, wanted to go there, to swim and float upon this blue pillowed light within, letting her spirit free to be kissed even fondled by the tingling blue. And it touched and encompassed all that she knew with melodious elation and sensual even seductive harmonies; that her elevated mind would be soothed with a spray of elegance and sweet scented refinement. ...Reach a dream, and perhaps there in the possible poise, so lives the beginning. Oh collective consciousness, do you know what a woman must think, must believe, and is she a being that holds more for that which interprets it all. A woman must know and must feel, she must go and must find and touch that which is to be touched, though forgotten. The world of dream emerges in a mist of only what it seems, and Stilly knew in her silence it may solely be only what she deemed; and she stood there on the open porch warmed by the now zenith-high sun. Time and place had lifted toward a splendid sway, free of turmoil, as a woman in search of her love struggled to find her completeness. Laying down, the couch of the deck became her couch of inspiration. Shifting herself and stretching, she could feel the heat from the sun as she let her mind wander at will, letting it span to project freely, bringing with it pictured impressions and scroll-like expressions. She wanted to know how she felt inside, within that hidden domain of herself. How she felt truly about herself and the way she would blend with the hidden cryptical feeling that encompassed love itself. There were so many passions emotions sensations she felt, and lifting her robe to an innocence, she threw it aside and lay completely nude, listening only to her capacity. The dear sun can see me for what I am, she mused, for what woman would turn the warm bliss of the sun away. Let him smooth and touch (the sun), let him come and be, let him do what must be done, and in this spell let him sprinkle his splendor upon me, through me. Let my blood be afire, let passion natural and beautiful free to roam and touch me, let passion be as it must be, alive with all of that which is pristine. It is so good to do that which I feel she thought, no unforgiving contemplations, no bewitching jesters, no commanding opinions, no unpleasant differences, no censor with phoney authority. She could feel the hot touch of the sun upon her naked smooth skin, it tingled and pulsed, radiated and induced like fingers would do moving over her; letting her sensuality rise as though it were attempting to wrap her entirely within its arms. At last she mused, 'the sum of my nudity (unrestrained) and only him, the sweet powers of forgiving sun.' As the sunlight pressed deeply over her entire body, her essence began to glow and her skin tingled as her breasts sent deep signals to that warm place between her legs, and she let herself go, opening, letting passion free to be all the beauty it was given to be and she sighed and giggled too. 'Have what you must, and be there as silence covers all in this ever present early noon, and bring those naked thoughts desires of woman to the forefront.' Then Stilly spoke to herself, "and if my man is there, make him a man of the sapphire dream." In her nakedness she moved and seemed to be in that of another world, a world she knew and lived to desire, a world of concurrent passionate sublimity. 'Come and be with me, come and touch the folds--that bind, come and give that which you are and let me become an ever living entity again, free of the chain and shackle of this world; let me live as I was meant to live!' What would you say to a man you were yet to understand, how would you think, who would you be in the moments that came. What would be your feelings toward a man yet to be, and the living nakedness of herself as if in spoken thought, embraced her will, forcing her to turn over. Stilly knew that in all of the mystery there were the desires, desires she felt and wished for, and those desires were also attached to a beginning; one that she would learn how to find and recognize, because that beginning, was contained within both his and her lives. She recognized past episodes in her dreams, and those episodes were like a recurring playback which she found to be mixed with events which seemed to come from somewhere else, perhaps the future even; it was then she realized how much more valuable dreams of the future were, than those of the past. The past seemed like the roots of a large tree, the future everything surrounding the tree. Rising in her nakedness, she walked into the living room and stood next to the aquarium, feeling in that moment a calm come over her. A calm which was accompanied with understanding, for she comprehended that all that there was of her, was truly a part of an undivided total. ...Stilly took a quick shower and put on something casual, then she went into the bedroom and laid down. She wanted to recall the white dog or at least see what its focus may bring. "Rippling waves I see upon the sea," she whispered, "sparkling flowers of light I see bouncing upon the waters, sky above so blue sand of the shore so white, soft and pleasant greens growing gathering themselves for spring." "The sea, the light, the shore so white, the green, the spring of flight, please bring on my sight." She continued whispering, "the mind, the will, no thought of thrill, see within to another sight, and fly upon the moment, and just live." Speaking to herself in this way, Stilly could relax and move in thought, and was able to step into a dream. A dream world always different, because the poetic's of her words she spoke differently with each new moment. Standing on the step (imaginary step), she closed her eyes and jumped, and as she landed upon the bottom step, she slowly opened her eyes, watching, observing, feeling and knowing. That is how she sometimes stepped into her dreams, sort of how it could be, as one steps from here into there, the land of dream. Laying relaxed she would close her eyes and picture herself standing upon an imaginary stair, and then she would imagine jumping, when she landed she usually was there in the land linked to the mind. Now looking to her left, Stilly saw the white dog walking alone upon a dirt path, coming toward her, she was standing off the path next to some bushes. There was a meadow and sea far in the distance that she could see as she stood near the path which was in front of her. As the white dog approached, he looked at her, but did not stop, he only passed, and then disappeared along the path on her right. Where she was standing, it seemed higher than the surroundings, and looking to her left again and along the path, Stilly saw someone coming, it was a lady who wore a dark blue gown over a short white silk dress; she had long blond hair. After awhile the lady came up to her and stopped. They both stood gazing at each other, yet neither spoke, both looked into the other's eyes. There seemed to be spoken thoughts, hidden thoughts, thoughts which Stilly knew went deep; thoughts that knew the message of truth. Then the lady spoke in a clear voice, a soothing melodious tone, smooth and precise; she greeted Stilly with a simple, "it is nice to meet you here on this way of truth...hello." Stilly responded, "greetings to you," and the lady smiled back. Then Stilly asked, "who are you?" "I'm someone who looks for you," the lady answered. Stepping closer, the lady in blue and white, held out her hand and opened it, Stilly saw a blue sapphire gem laying there, and attached to it a very long gold chain. Stilly said, "I have a gem like that," and the lady smiled saying, "I know," then Stilly asked, "what is it all about?" The lady stepped closer, had very calm eyes, and answered, "we will meet many times, he is very near now." "Who is very near," Stilly asked, and the lady answered, "the man you seek, for he seek's you." Then the path and surroundings faded away, and Stilly opened her eyes to the afternoon, but lay very still not moving, as she recalled the event; 'and to know and understand.' A small tear streamed down along the corner of her eye and landed upon the pillow. For the passion of this event with all its truth and beauty, its giving, its freedom, had touched her heart, opening a way toward her hidden self. Stilly smiled and thought to herself, 'how sweet life and dreaming can be, and how much there is to live for, if one only looked deeply into themselves.' ~ next...chapter 4, Melody...[note, this text is yet to be proof read]. This page created April 98 members.tripod.com