Meditation

Session Four

I start the meditation, and find it harder than usual to get into. But when I do, a couple of things stand out.

I can see my guide clearer this time, and I know that I know him. I just don't know how, from where, or why. It irks me. I know this guy. But I can't remember his name, or the history of how I know him. I try to ask, but it's not the right time.

But in the meditation, it doesn't bother me too much. Any aggression or irritation quickly fades away, and I find myself feeling excited to go through the door and attempt to remember a hidden past. I'm practically bouncing on my feet, and my guide's laughing at me; it feels like old times.

Come on! Come on!

The door opens, and we both go through, making our way through the long, dimly lit corridor of fog and mystery. I'm walking through it with purpose, the mist parting as I go until I find myself at the very end. Mist surrounds me. I can't see a thing. I know my guide's there, but we don't say a word. It's time. It's time to go back.

It takes a while for the image to form.

I feel my body stretch out, growing taller and lankier; breasts disappear, and I become painfully aware of my torso in general. It's flat and long, but I think I like it. A name comes to mind: William.

The first thing I see are dark, shiny shoes. Very formal. Very smart. Then the fog lifts, and I can see that I'm wearing dark formal trousers, suit trousers, and a light shirt. But the image is still unclear. I feel my face. There's stubble.

I look up, and I see darkness and rippling lights surrounding me. I'm in a street in th pouring rain without an umbrella or jacket to warm me. I'm too busy staring at the brightly lit building across the road; I don't want to look away.

Someone important's in there. It's a social gathering place of some sort – a bowling alley maybe? It looks welcoming and busy, and I get a strong feeling that it's the '80s here. I'm not sure why. The building's standing alone, set apart from everything else, but when I turn to look down the street I see other, more warmly lit buildings, and I remember that I'm in a city. A big one. But I don't know where. It's not Shanghai. Something tells me. But I know it's not London, nor is it Paris.

I start walking away, and another name springs to mind. Nathan. I don't think that's my name here.

As I walk down street after rainy street, I realise that I have nowhere to go, but I'm just trying to blow off some steam. The feeling of hollowness mixed with a punch to the gut tells me that it's heartache. Someone really important was in that brightly lit bowling alley.

A flash of golden-brown hair and a sweet smile, a girl with smooth young skin and light eyes fills my mind. I'm in my late 20s I think, and she's in her early 20s. She seems lovely. And this image I see is just a flashback in my mind of happier times.

I go to cross the street. Out of nowhere something crashes into my side; I fall, choking, and when I look up I see an old car covering my lower half. Blood's pouring out of my mouth and down my chin. I can't see clearly. I can't tell if it's the rain or if I've hit my head. Someone's gotten out of the car to check on me, panicking and frantic. I can feel blood bubbling in my throat.

I look out at the rest of the road that I can see, but all I see is rain. I reach out my free hand and drop it in a puddle.

Sarah.

That pretty face flashes before my eyes again, and everything turns cold.

The meditation drags me up into the light for a moment to reflect on the life I just saw end. What implications does this life have for me? What can I take from it?

I thought.

In life, you can't always count on other people loving you, no matter how badly you may want them to. Parents, friends, lovers...in the end, you have to learn how to love yourself. Or you'll just be stuck walking the cold, wet streets of your mind, alone and miserable for the rest of your life.

It's a work in progress, but sound advice.