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#30 Symposium Dreams
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#30 Symposium Dreams The room was dark, a light from the window in a far room cast a shadow of the door on the wall. A woman in a single bed, twisted to the side, a sharp intake of breath bringing her upright. Her eyes were wide, wild, her hands flying, batting at the empty space before her. A sound, something between a sob and a groan, low guttural, not strident, two notes. A deeper sound like an oboe. She swung her legs to the side, feeling for slippers, grabbing the robe hanging on the knob of the headboard. Covered, she slid silently into the hall. Her right hand tapped automatically, one two three four. It slowed her heartbeat. Silently moving through the halls, she passed door after door, turning left at the end into the open room. Her fingers dampened, she repeated the four taps, her mind pleading for release. The only light from candles, so few these days, but now in the dark they seemed enough. She moved slowly up the center aisle. Her heart quieted, her tears drying. She stopped where she always stopped knowing if she waited long enough, the sun would light the window, day would find her. She prostrated herself on the cold floor, arms spread to the side, feet crossed over each other. The cold on her heated cheek was a relief. Finally able to settle, allow thought to enter, her breathing slowed. Hours later, as the sun began to rise, he found her as he had so many times before. He knelt to speak to her. One touch sat him back. The light through the glass, hit her. He closed her eyes, wondering if peace comes for those who have the courage to seek it, nearly tripping on his cassock as he rose.  You cannot conceive the many without the one. |
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when I was about 22, a nun was found in the chapel at a local college. she was not old or infirm. this is simply my story of what happened and has nothing to do with the reality of that event. I remember thinking at the time, that in some way despite my crazy and profoundly salacious life, I could just as easily be a nun. smiles. You cannot conceive the many without the one.
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Your disclaimer is like a Hollywood film disclaimer. And just as I though blogland was full of true stories! You know I'm joking!  
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Deep and invoking something...
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Oh my wicked- I see this clearly and yet it's ethereal (Virtual Symposium Group) use Virtual Symposium Group
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Dark dreams. Vive La Difference
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I do believe that peace comes with death. . The only real peace we'll ever know. Funny thing... my brother always said he thought I'd make a good missionary. . For awhile, I did think about going to Africa and helping my Aunt there. . she was a Maryknoll Sister there for about 20 years. Excellent writing, as usual. 
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You have a beautiful evocative talent.  Sommaire Et la souffrance vgtale L'être idéal ? Un ange dévasté par l'humour. E.M. Cioran
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A very hot and dark dream Wicked.. I loved it! hugs V A great contribution to this symposium hugsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss V Become a blog watcher sweet_vm
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Oohh... a wicked nun? So scary! You could become a nun. Glad you are wicked! Nice story, as expected, bit heavy for me, going for a scotch.
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I have a friend who was a Carmelite nun for a while. I think she didn't really find peace there. She had her salacious life too, concealed unless you got to know her more deeply. I don't think she found peace there either. The two are not mutually exclusive, spirituality and sensuality, but as in all things, balance and peace can be elusive. Become a member now and get a free tote bag.
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