Monday, May 18, 2009

Evolution of Indifference - Chapter 8

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Chapter 8 - Flashbacks

When I was a kid, I had a vision. I'm not sure whether or not you believe in such things, but this vision was as real to me as the pitter patter of the keyboard as I write these lines. Yet, as real as it was, I saw it only in Black & White.

The vision defined my worldview and while many of you would probably have investigated it to find out whether or not it was true, I simply KNEW it was true. I didn't need anyone else to confirm it for me, and since I didn't really want to discuss it ... I simply didn't. For many years, I kept it inside, knowing that I wasn't just different, but I was also unwanted. Hell, as if the life I lived being given away to my aunt and uncle wasn't enough - I had this vision to prove it.

It was like that time I turned around in bed in the middle of the night. By this point, I had moved out of my aunt and uncle's house and moved in with my mom and brother. (That happened when I was 9) There in the middle of the night, I saw with my own eyes a something that solidified my belief in all things spiritual. My brother lay prostrate about three feet above his bed, levitated in a perfectly horizontal position, his blanket hanging on either side of him just touching the top of the bed.

I was in church at the time and was all about the spiritual realm, so I immediately turned back over, said "that boy really IS a freak" and went back to sleep. I'm not lying - this really happened. If you don't believe in shit like that, I suppose you think you're reading fiction - that's fine. What was similar about this and my vision is that I never told anyone what I saw. That was pretty typical for me growing up - I never told much.

I saw my mother pregnant with me, and crying. I knew it was me in her womb, but I was watching the events unfold as the five-year old me ... walking around like a casper no one could see. But I could see it all - there was my mom at the top of a staircase. She was on the second floor, in the hallway. It wasn't an elevator building - a walk-up. Not sure how many floor there were above us, but we were definitely on the second floor.

There was a two step walk-down to a landing, a turn right and an entire flight of stairs to a 1" X 1" tile floor, alternating in white and color, white and color. What color, I don't know - I just know that it wasn't black. My mother walked very slowly toward the top of the stairs, reaching for the banister. And she threw herself down the stairs, crying the whole way ... and took me and her womb with her.

Till this very day, I remember that vision. And I remember that spirit of "knowing" that I carried with me ... knowing as a child that my mother really didn't want my pregnancy. It explained to me why I lived with my aunt and uncle - it explained a lot. Like, it explained why she began to charge me rent to live in her house when I was 15.

And I thought about these things a lot when I was in college, smoking and drinking and drugging myself into these pensive moments. And many times I would wallow in those stupors and accept that I dealt with a lot more shit than the average Joe.

Amazingly, I thought a LOT - but I never cried about it.

Thinking was my therapy.


RunningMom said...

"so I immediately turned back over, said "that boy really IS a freak" and went back to sleep."

lol, you really do have a way with words!

I believe you, weird shit happens to me all the time. Not people levitating... but still weird shit.

I can't imagine being in your position to know this information and have to process it. As a mother, I can only imagine the desperation or mental illness she was feeling at the time.

My mother was 19 when she had my brother. She admits to wanting to kill him when he was a colicy baby. She has so much guilt about that still. He's about to be 40.

For what it's worth, I'm glad she didn't succeed, and I bet she is too.

RunningMom said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
RunningMom said...

The "she" I was referring to in the last sentence was your mother, not mine...

Miss P said...

oh wow, jack, that's horrible. as a kid, my mother straight up told me she never wanted me and she hated my father. in fact, for the longest she denied ever actually being in a relationship with him. i just found out 2 years ago that they were actually together. i spent 24 years of my life thinking my mother, who had me as a teen, slept with my father on a dare. that shit hurts like hell