It’s been four months since I blogged. I find that very distressing. So much has happened in four months, yet nothing has changed. I have so much to say, but no words will come. I gained stability, only to lose it again. I survived yet another long dark, with a great deal of support from my familiars. I look forward to regenerating my soul with nature as the green man continues to battle towards spring. Hopefully, soon, the words will come once more.
The path wound up the side of the mountain, often doubling back upon itself. It started out rocky, but quickly turned into a crystalline white sand. The texture was so soft, I found myself scooping it up and letting it run through my fingers and down my arms. It was difficult to walk through, so I found myself crawling, revelling in the sensations as I progressed. Distracted by my progress, I was not prepared to round the last corner and come face-to-face with that which appeared before me.
The sand trailed further upward, flanking a sloping garden of epic proportions. Within the sand boarders, marble walls enclosed lush gardens that housed orchids, roses, and flowers that I’ve only seen in books. Flowing down the centre, was a pool that seemed to go on forever. The colour of the water was an unearthly greenish-yellow, that seemed to get darker towards the foot of the structure.
There were people everywhere. Why did I not encounter a single person on my ascent? It would seem, like a water park, people were emerging from the foot of the pool and returning to the summit for another go. Curious, I fell into line with the others, climbing the hill.
Something felt wrong. No one was wet. How on earth could people emerge from a pool, completely dry? My curiosity was piqued even more.
As we approached the top, the path disappeared into the side of the hill. The top of the pool was not accessible from outside. A tunnel led us into what seemed like the centre of the earth. It led straight into the hill for a few minutes and then abruptly came to a 180 degree angle. As I turned, I saw an escalator leading sharply upward. I stepped on, and was immediately fascinated with intricate patterns within the marble walls as I rose. It was all very calming…soothing… comforting.
As I reached the summit, the pool and the gardens appeared before me. It was breathtaking. Although the colour of the water was surreal, it was disturbingly inviting. I was drawn towards the edge. What was I thinking? I was fully clothed! Before I knew what I was doing, I was standing at the lip of the pool. I felt myself step forward. I couldn’t stop myself. I plunged into the murky depths.
Instinctively, I gasped, knowing that the sharp intake of water would be my demise. Nothing happened… The water didn’t feel like water at all. Tentatively, I took another breath. It was as if I was breathing air. Not realizing I was doing so, I relaxed, and I felt myself being pulled forward, through the mysterious liquid.
I had never felt more at peace. Every stress in my body seemed to fade away. The liquid moved me, slowly, along the length of the pool. I did not have to swim, I could breathe, all I had to do was relax, and let the calm wash over me. It seemed like an eternity, yet I reached the far end of the structure, the beautiful white marble rising in front of me.
I heaved myself out, amazed to find myself completely dry. I stood for a moment and marvelled in the fact that I hadn’t felt so serene in 30 years. I needed more.
I headed back to the hill, wanting to experience this blissful feeling again. As I got to base and started to climb, I saw a young woman who seemed to be feeling the same confusion, yet peacefulness as myself. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. As we ascended, and then stepped upon the escalator, we clasped hands. Without speaking, we knew we had to see if the same thing could happen if we were together.
Without hesitation, we approached and edge, squeezed each others hands, and jumped. It was the same as the first time. Time stopped, stress disappeared. But this time, linked with another human, we connected. I felt her heartbeat through our linked hands, and I know she felt mine. We did not let go and slowly drifted, together, towards the end of the pool. We emerged, even more renewed, and headed back to the hill again.
As we reached the bottom, a wizened old man emerged from the shrubbery. “Don’t go again,” he said. We looked at each other, puzzled, and looked back at the man.
“Why on earth not?” I asked. “After everything I’ve been through in my life, I’ve never felt this relaxed…this happy.”
My new friend nodded, agreeing with me.
“You don’t understand,” he insisted. “Every time you go through the pool, you lose time.”
I shook my head, examined my hands, (for I did not have a mirror) and asked him, “Are you saying I get younger every time I go in?” I laughed, “I surely have no problems with that…”
He shook his head and looked sad. “You do not lose years, you will not get younger. You lose time. How many times have you swum?”
“Twice,” I responded, “and I’m looking forward to a few more.”
My companion and I turned away from the old man and began to walk up the hill.
The old man yelled at us from behind. “Every time you swim, six months goes by in the world from which you came. You’ve already lost a year of your life. Your family has given you up for dead. The world you knew, is forever changed. The more you swim, the less chance you have of going back to who you were!”
A smile played across my lips, and I looked back up the hill to my destination. “Perfect.”
It was quiet. Too quiet. I was warned that door-to-door hustlers were roaming the town, so I remained hidden in the backyard with nothing but a floodlight and a laptop for company. The sun had set an hour before, and my solar lights danced merrily in the gloom. There was no one home on either side of me, as far as two houses over on either side. No one would hear if I screamed.
One side wouldn’t have responded anyway. I have enemies in this town. I did things on impulse. I spoke my opinions. I remained true to myself. I harmed no one. I was merely the witch. But still, the enemies grew. My sanctuary, violated. I could have retaliated, with horrible attempts at new tunes on the bagpipes at ungodly hours… but then I would have been subject to loud, twangy, country music. That torture still occurs, from time to time, but the most part the quiet has returned. Finally, a cold impasse. I do not exist. I am happy with that.
Coyotes howl in the distance. Crickets sing their constant drone. The occasional car passes through town. Tires on gravel as neighbours, further afield, return to their homes after a long day. I hear it all, as I sit here.
I see movement out of the corner of my eye. It’s just a neighbourhood cat, passing through my backyard in search for… companionship, combat, prey down by the river, something…
My mind races with a million thoughts at once. Although it may be quiet outside, it will never be quiet in my head. There are too many uncertainties. Too many unknowns.
Something is rustling at the end of the garden. I can’t see anything. It’s too dark, despite the solar lights. The sounds start coming from various parts of my yard. It’s almost like creatures are crawling out of the plants from every corner. It’s subtle, however. A faint rustling. But it, they, are coming closer.
A flash of pink streams across my peripheral vision, but disappears as soon as I turn my head. I hear the sound of metal on metal, and, oddly… plastic. Surely I’m just imagining things. My neighbour’s air conditioner is still clicking on and off, it must be acting up. I need more wine.
I refill my glass, cuddle my familiar, and return to my post outside. As I settle myself back down again, I see a pink flash again. I turn towards it to see one of my pink flamingos stuck solidly in the ground, below my tree. Very strange, for all my flamingos are scattered throughout the yard, none under the tree. I turn back to the computer only to see movement out of the corner of my eye again. Two more flamingos. No wait, there are more. Suddenly, the Dr. Who episode “Blink” pops into my head. I chuckle, shake my head, and take another sip of wine. That’s only on television… But that still doesn’t explain why there are plastic flamingos, standing at the bottom of my deck, staring at me. Old ones, new ones, shiny ones, skeleton ones, zombie ones… even the legless one peers at me from the tree.
Today is the Autumnal Equinox, where the day is of equal length as the night. The Sun God is to be mourned, and we must realize that all things must come to an end. A time to reap what we have sown.
“By the Gods, what have I done?”
It has been a long time since I’ve blogged. I think the main reason is that I have felt like I haven’t had anything to say. Today, that changed. Today, I met my hero.
It’s not the first time we’ve met, but today… today we really talked to each other, and she became my hero. She doesn’t know this, but she will. We didn’t talk about ALL THE THINGS, but we talked about enough things.
I’ve been through some pretty shitty things in my life. She has “been there, done that” with almost all of mine, and then some (times 100,000). But she’s not arrogant about it. She’s just awesome. I have always had a habit of letting the bad things get to me, and bring me down. I let them control me. She’s had so many things try to tear her down, and she still gets up, smiles, and says “bring it on motherfucker!”. This is what I want to be.
I’m not going to let this woman slip away from my life. She’s too awesome for words. She’s inspirational. She makes me want to be a better me. I am going to try to learn from the things she shares and suggests, and try to make myself better, stronger, a little bit at a time.
I apologize, in advance, to my family and friends. In the last few years, with the unemployment and negative shit that has bombarded me from all sides, I lost myself. But today… things have changed.
The Witch is back.
To celebrate Valentine’s Day, I wrote an incredibly touching poem for my love.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Because I love you to pieces,
I’ll always have glue.
What day is today? Friday. Hopefully I’ll hear something today. Please don’t let it be another rejection. What time is it? Oh, I’ve got time, the cats are still cuddly and they are warm. It’s not like I have to *be* anywhere today anyway. I hate winter. Shit, I should get my bloodwork done. And I need wine. And kitty litter. Oh hell, I have to go to the bank. I didn’t deposit that money and the mortgage payment went through, so I’m in overdraft. That’s okay. I’ll deposit it today and I’ll be back in black. But there won’t be enough for my insurance next week. I need to sell some stuff. What can I sell? Oh, I just heard a ping. Maybe it’s an email about the job. Nope, just a rejection for a job I applied to months ago. I wasn’t expecting that one to go in my favour anyway. They never hire externally. Oh no. I still haven’t written to my aunt. What should I say? It’s been so long. “Dear Aunt Joanne, I’m so sorry I haven’t written to you in so long. I’ve been pretty down about unemployment lately and haven’t been doing much of anything but sleeping. I often lie in bed and compose letters to you, but by the time I’ve finally hauled myself out of bed, I’ve gotten distracted and then forget to actually do it….” What was that noise? Oh, just one of the cats. I haven’t fed the birds in two days. I need to fix that. I think the crows will like the freezer burnt chicken fingers. What time is it now? Is that all? I’m hungry, but I’m warm and comfy so I’m not moving. I wish Geoff was here. I could sell that four piece tea set. I haven’t written a blog post since before Christmas. I wonder why no one wanted that really warm coat I tried to sell last year. I guess I can try that one again. I sure am glad I don’t have to lick myself clean every day. I want spring to come. I miss sitting on the deck with my book, watching the birds. Why does my brain do all this? Maybe I can borrow money from my business to pay the insurance. Shit, I need to pick up a prescription too, who knows how much that will cost. Is it snowing? Crap. I hate winter. Ohhh, Pinot is being so cute. He really is my cuddle-bunny. Shit, I hope I don’t miss garbage day. I missed recycling. Again. But there was no way in hell I was going out in -35 celcius to put it out. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. Tomorrow is Saturday. And it’s supposed to be freakishly cold. I may not leave the house. I don’t really have to. Hamlet is snoring. I wonder what I’m going to have for dinner tonight. What’s that noise? Just the neighbours, listening to music again… it’s amazing I can hear it with all the windows closed. I haven’t practiced my bagpipes this week. I sure hope I’ll be good enough for the wedding in September. I don’t want to let them down. I wonder if I’ll have my wedding this year? Probably not. I can’t believe the behaviour of some people. I never took those bags to the charity shop. Then again, I’ve not driven past it. Yes, I did, but I was tired. Right. Shocking. If I were to go into Winchester today, maybe I’ll get a fancy coffee from Timmies. Oh, I need to fill the car too. I need to sell stuff. I need a job. Why won’t anyone hire me? Oh, wait. I thought I was done my Valentine’s Day gift, but I’m not. I’m only half done. That’s okay, I can do that tonight. I’m hungry. I can wait. Another ping! Just crap, still no news. The longer I go without hearing, the more negative I know I’m going to be. This is going to be a stressful weekend. I’ll be obsessing the whole time. I hope I don’t pass out at band practice. I wonder why that drummer didn’t show up again. I’m so glad that YinYang is peeing normally again. That is worth the cost of the expensive cat food. I have an urge for steak. That was a weird dream. I don’t think the river will ever flood like that in real life, but I really don’t understand why there was a reindeer in my backyard. I wish I could get on the trampoline. That might be a nice stress relief. Bloody thing would crack in this cold. Is there anything interesting on tv tonight? No, it’s Friday. I’ve got my book. I should clean the living room. I will when I get up. I don’t want to go all the way into Winchester today. But I should. There’s that music again. I wish Geoff was here. I’ve got to bring my computer into the shop soon. It’s a pain the ass not having a proper shift key. That’ll cost money, so it can wait. I love the sound of Ophelia’s purr. I hope my mum’s ankle starts healing soon. Why are people honking and yelling out front? I don’t want to know. What time is it now? Oh. I wish I were a cat. I wonder if anyone noticed that I left a skeleton on a stick, and a skel-amingo on the front porch over Christmas. I didn’t want to leave the skel-amingo out, but he’ll have to stay now. How many cats with me now? Aw. I love them. “Dear Aunt Donna, I’m so sorry I haven’t written in so long…” Another ping! Why do these people keep sending me emails wanting me to donate my carvings. For the love of everything sacred, I want to sell the bloody things, not give them away. Why can’t I turn my brain off? I wish I could, even for five minutes. I could sell that picture. No, wait. The glass broke… Oh, I could sell the wolf one. The other one was popular. I’m not selling any of my coffins or skeletons. This is their home. Skates! I’m never going to use them again, not after 4 sprained ankles. Funny that my doctor was creeped out by how bendy my ankles are. She’s not the first one to be freaked out by that. Crap, I’m supposed to buy an ankle brace too. That can wait. Kijiji or Facebook? I’ll sell stuff on both. Sooo furry, hello my YinYing. What am I going to make for dinner for Geoff on Saturday? I have no idea… It will be too cold to BBQ. I want this job so much. I’m afraid of hoping too much. I’m so tired. I guess I’d better get up and start my day…
It was a dark and desolate wasteland, despite the fact that it was actually a small town. Although most of the houses were well kept, a darkness hung over the town. The nights were long, the days were short, and what daylight there was, was a dull grey. On the brightest of days, the dull grey was punctuated with bursts of lighter grey, but it was not enough to enliven the townsfolk. When evening descended, the greyness merely turned to black. The people did their best to bring lightness into the gloom, with merry lights and false cheer, but they knew that more they light they tried to add into their world would cost them in the long run.
The evil overlord, who had supremacy over the small town, and hundreds more like it, controlled the power that lit the people’s homes. As the days grew shorter and darker, the overlord would increase the price of this power, forcing the people to choose between keeping their homes bright and warm, and feeding their children. Some wondered whether or not the overlord had control over the sky, and kept it grey and desolate to keep the morale low, thus rendering the peasants hopeless and pliant.
One day turned into another, and then another. Each day proving just as bleak as the next. Some days it would rain, increasing the gloom in both body and spirit. The people went about their lives in quiet desolation, but in the eveningtime when families would gather, the elders began to tell stories. They told fanciful tales of their youth, when a yellow orb would appear in the sky and bring warmth and light. Sometimes, this orb would appear for many days in a row, and the townsfolk would rejoice in its beauty and would spend hours outside, basking in its glory. The people were happy then. The children, of course, were doubtful, for they had never witnessed this spectacle. But the fanciful tales gave them hope; hope that maybe, just maybe, they weren’t just fairy tales.
The days grew shorter and shorter, but they knew that the solstice was upon them, and that Oak King and the Holly King would soon do battle. As always, they prayed for the Oak King’s victory, to turn back the darkness once more. They prepared their homes for the feasts and the fires with much anticipation. They gathered with joy and merriment, singing songs, and hanging decorations from their trees; they were together, which pushed away the gloom that hung over the town.
As they all sat down for the midday feast, a most peculiar thing happened. They noticed that the rooms were getting brighter, despite not having lit any more candles or lamps. The children grew afraid, but the elders began to smile and ushered everyone outside. “Look up,” they said. It was just then that the grey clouds parted and a beautiful colour emerged from behind. “That is the sky,” the elders proclaimed. “What colour is that?” someone shouted. They all looked to the most wizened elder of the village, who smiled a toothy smile and uttered one word. “Blue.”
As they all stood in the centre of town, enraptured by this blue sky, it happened. The last of the grey clouds blew across the horizon and revealed the mythical, blinding orb. It was the fairy tale! It was real.
And so it was, as the townsfolk stood there, rubbing their eyes and blinking against the light, that they knew that fairy tales could come true.
So the dream thing is pretty much taking on a life of its own…
Two nights ago, I had a dream about visiting a shrine to a religion that was far more akin to a cult than anything. It was a fabulous location, with about 500 steps leading up to the main shrine. It was called The Church of the Holy Shrine, and tours were available on every other hour. I arrived at the church by providence, since the directions to the place were completely inaccurate, as were the Google maps. Luckily, I recognized its magnificence. (Keep in mind, I am an athiestic/nature-pagany type person…) We all got out and stood in a very long line to take the tour. After hours, we got in and sat down to a very impressionistic video, followed by an invitation to attend a catered lunch.
I was with my parents, my fiance, and my closest friend. The nice thing was, we were able to take pictures together (on the edge of a precipice) in a very picturesque location. We looked fabulous.
At the lunch, people milled about, drinking wine (thank goodness for that) as we awaited the culinary celebration. Alas, there were more people than tables and anarchy ensued. [This is interesting, since the night before, I had dreamed of a sit down dinner at a fancy club with my parents, at which I was not allowed to sit with them. Instead, I was seated at a small coffee table with a yoga ball to sit on. I had one hell of a time to not roll under the table, and I never got any bloody food. But I digress….] Needless to say, no one ate.
Shortly thereafter, the person in charge of the religion/cult announced that the main event was about to start. We were to witness the most spectacular event in the history of religion. We were all on vessel very much like a ship, and we were violently tossed about as if we were in rough seas. As it turned out, we had been attached by a large crane, unseen by us as we were forced upon it. By the time someone stopped it, most of us had been thrown off. We were witness to the ship taking “sail” down the steps. It resembled a cardboard tank. Very odd…
When the “tank” rolled to the bottom of the steps, it hit water and exploded on impact. Most of the spectators didn’t survive. I did.
Fast forward to last night’s dream… I don’t remember a lot of the beginning. My consciousness starts at being trapped on the top of a hill that is akin to a painted desert hilltop. It’s dirt, only about 30 feet from the main land, and I’m in a car. It’s all quite hopeless, since it’s too far to jump, so, I have no choice but to force myself to slide down.
I think that’s the worst part of dream. I have no control. I can’t help where I fall, and where I land. Eventually, I do land. At the end of my own garden (which isn’t actually my garden). My legs won’t work and I have to haul myself (inch by inch) up an impossible hill.
Once I get there, I am on a familiar street (in dreams, but not reality) and I meet up with my mother. We decide to head home (?!?) and head down main street. It’s a busy street, with which I’m familiar (but never been in on real life – although I feel I know it intimately). I am barefoot, and stepping on every piece of glass and stone. My mum and I stop at a store to get shoes. None are to be had and so and I’m ushered out in the swampland. I can only travel though that for so long before I’m forced out into the streets again. This time, the sidewalks are paved with jagged stone and shards of glass. I am still barefoot, but have a mile yet to walk.
So there you have the latest weirdness. It’s getting weirder and weirder as time goes on.
Does anyone have any insight? Please share, if you do.
I would imagine that because my life hasn’t changed (what with the constant instability of unemployment) my dreams are still freakishly odd. Here’s what I remember from last night.
There was a whole whack of weird stuff as I walked through my town. None of it is in my town, but I’ve seen it before in dreams… I’ve been to this town many times, the shops are the same, I’ve never been there, but I know it’s my town. But, I digress. The most vivid part was when I was driving into it. I got to the stop sign where the gas station/corner store is (even though it’s not a four-way stop in real life) and my car stalled at the intersection. Acquaintances that I’ve not seen in a long time arrived on the scene in tiny metal stroller/metal wheeled things (kind of like sitting in the bottom part of a tea caddy…) on their way to visit another friend at the house at that very corner. I joined them, hoping my car would start soon. What ensued was a bunch of annoying girly gossip, which I hate with a passion, and I had to leave. As I got into my car, a little old man started bashing his own car into my rear bumper, trying to get me to move through the intersection. Alas, it still wouldn’t start. I shrugged and waved, to which he hit the gas and plowed me into the ditch.
Once I extricated myself, I crossed the street to the gas station/corner store (which now has a garage, unlike real life) and found someone who would pull me out. He offered to do so and tow me home (about 1 kilometer) for $75. I was horrified and responded that all I wanted was to get to the garage. He quoted me $15 instead. It ended up costing me $45 to be towed about 50 feet. Bastard.
At the same time, a co-op garden was being ploughed under by some fiendish human, and giant zucchinis were being hurtled across the street. They were hurtling across the street like giant, green, oblong cannon balls. People were running around like mad, picking up the flying vegetables. I was quite disappointed, being more of a cucumber kind of girl.
While I was waiting for my car, I went to work (right next door – how convenient!) in a place I’ve been before in my dreams, but again, never in real life. It was the same creepy scenario of trying to clean out an abandoned, decrepit, musty old diner/shop/restaurant/house. As happens every time, I’ve forgotten the alarm code and panicking about what to do when I’m done. I go through the same rooms, doing the same thing, enter the same creepy living space that is set up to look like it’s lived in but no one does, deal with the same kittens that I’m convinced are trying to lure my own cats out into the rat-infested attic (which makes no sense, since my cats aren’t there, even though they are…), and go down into the same basement trying to find one particular thing – although I never know what it is. This time, however, the dream differs. This time, while in the basement, I met a ghost. A soldier from the First World War. He was lovely, and helped me back up the stairs when they crumbled and I became trapped. Although I did feel guilty stepping on a grand piano.
Intermingled through all of these dreams I was with people trying to find a seat at various restaurants and we were placed in the strangest places, I was driving roads I’ve travelled hundreds of times (but again, not in real life – despite the fact that they were sooo familiar), I was walking through a school campus that I knew like the back of my hand (which I’ve never been to), and playing bagpipes (at least THAT is realistic!) with a band I’ve never played with before.
In the end, when the tire was pulled off my car in order to remove it from the ditch (apparently that was essential!?!), half a tree was found lodged in the middle of the engine. No idea where that came from. I guess that’s why it stalled.
In real life, my check engine light has been on for a month. Even though I’m 99% sure it’s something that’s not a big deal, I’m kind of afraid to drive now.
The subconscious is a pretty weird thing. After a sleepless night, I fell into a very bizarre sleeping-in (one perk, I suppose, of unemployment) dream-fest.
The beginning of it is a bit hazy, but it involved attending some sort of event, at which I was dependent on a ride home. No one showed up, so I fell asleep (not sure where) and woke up at 1:30 in the morning to find my ride raking garbage out of her car. She still wouldn’t take me home because she was participating in a skipping race, with another person, down Merivale Road. Both of these people I knew back in high school, but have not seen them for any significant amount of time since then. So that was weird.
Once the race was over, it dawned on me that I was supposed to move that day. The friend had a tiny car but an odd trailer that unfolded into quite the storage wardrobe on wheels. I called my parents and told them I’d start with her help but we couldn’t fit the big stuff in. We had to run up and down round hotel staircases to get to my stuff on the third floor. I took great pleasure in the fact that we were moving, that the woman below me disliked me intensely. I knew she would be annoyed by the noise. That woman, incidentally, popped up through every aspect of my dreams, insulting me, harassing me, and repeating “But I bought you a Christmas present last year”. I know her in real life, and I can assure you, she did not.
Most of my stuff, however, was in a warehouse on big, shiny, silver shelves like you see in stores. There were many people to help me move, all people I have encountered in my life, but it made no sense that they were there. The warehouse was also part of a store. My stuff was mixed in with what they were selling, and some of it still had to be packed. It was very annoying, and I couldn’t keep customers from trying to buy my stuff before I could pack it. I guess this is why you should always pack well before moving day.
While attempting to do all of that, and organize my helpers, I got an urgent message that I was needed back at my house (which was no longer in a hotel) because things had turned nasty. When I got there, it was mostly underground, because I lived in some sort of pit dwelling. The biggest problem, it would seem, was the bathroom. Pretty much everything in it had rotted and there was a family of rather angry black and white foxes living there. Once I crawled along the entrance way, on my belly, I entered the room to confirm their reports. The foxes weren’t exactly friendly, but they didn’t attack. I didn’t salvage much. Things weren’t much better in the bedroom. Every time I picked something up, there were puddles of black swamp underneath, and they burst occasionally into low flames. It wasn’t a Princess Bride Fire Swamp kinda thing, just a lot of ooze that would flare up when broken things were tossed in.
What was salvaged from my strange, wild animal and swamp infested home, was eventually dragged to a dilapidated barn for packing. Every time I tried to grab a box, my aunt would yell “that one is for garbage!” and I’d have to put it back.
Throughout all of this, I kept having to run back and forth between the hotel and the place I was moving to. I’m still not sure where the pit was, or where it was that I was actually moving to… But I was running on foot. Well, actually, hand and foot. I was pretty quick too, despite it being rather awkward running on all fours. Once, while crossing an intersection, I came across a bunch of kids who used to live on the floor below me in an old house. They all yelled out “Oh my god, it’s YOU!”, to which I replied “See, you never knew just who lived upstairs, did you?”. They all stood, wide-eyed with their mouths hanging open, shaking their heads, as I flew by.
I never did see the place I was moving to.
As far as I know, I never actually moved.