More Spirit Than Animal

CASSIE IV

            I went to the studio, late one afternoon. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

I have to make one thing clear to you, I am a harbinger. I cannot SEE the future. There's no spectral dimension, I'm not a medium or a prophet...although I may have some overlap with the Delphic Oracle...where pronouncements spill from the lips of some hallucinating young girl both suggestible and drugged.

To me it seems as though the mindscape we all inhabit is just that...a place where memories flow like water. Somehow I know what is coming down the line...images and a reverse kind of deja vu.

I have no SCIENTIFIC basis for why my senses are joined by the waters of other minds, flooding my own with unwanted thoughts in fine-strokes, oils and water, raw emotions on canvass. I see images and I hear voices in tongues. They have to be my voices....who else could they be...memories of other voices? Your voice? I don't see how...do you?

To make matters more confusing these abstractions begin to fade in the telling, like any nocturnal dream. I'm left with just so much smoke and little fire, although the embers smoulder on, providing just enough warmth and just enough evidence that someone was there.

And here's a question. Is it the telling that makes dreams come true? Some Hawthorne Effect where the observed changes through the act of observation or telling.

Percy reminded me how upset I always am when my warnings go unheeded, as they always are. Cursed and blessed in equal measure since childhood, the voices inside struggle to order themselves into something coherent, flashing between the senses, out of time and sequence, so that I ramble and they cry lunatic, hysteric....she's plain nuts. The journey from mind to voice does me few favours.

So how do we know you're not some sad old chancer who sees coincidence as providence? Good question. Well my advice to you is just ignore me and see what happens...