Sunday, August 23, 2015

A Lost King in a Lost Time


This may come as a shock to some of you. It came as a shock to me. I swear it happened. I mean, I swear on a stack of Bibles (no, that's seems pointless), I swear on a stack of Korans (no, I mean, hunh?), all right, never mind, I swear on a fresh, hard-bound copy of "Infinite Jest." Yes, okay, see, I'm deadly serious.

I saw an apparition walking the streets. Alive as you or me. 

It was in a "hard" neighborhood. A neighborhood known for drug deals, and gang shootouts. The part of town where the police vehicles with sirens ringing, and cherrie tops flashing are always rushing towards. It's where those unmarked cars (you can always spot an undercover vehicle) are speeding off to.

Anyway, I have been riding my bike through that part of town on my way to do a job over the last 2 weeks. I ride with my head down, with a purpose, hoping not to call notice to myself, or ruffle any feathers. I am riding like a guest, I know this is not my turf - just passing thru!

Anyway, on Clark Street, across the street from the grocery store, there is a liquor store, and that liquor store is the anchor of the community. There is always a steady stream of foot traffic, going to, or leaving from, that liquor store. People buy liquor (of course), but also cigarettes and lottery tickets too. A very popular destination.

There are always old-timers and hard characters hanging out in front. It's a sketchy place, again, I zip by trying not to see or be seen. But this where I had my vision. Or where I saw my vision. What vision?

I saw a man dressed as an impossibly ancient warrior. A desiccated, old, Viking, a crusty being, more ancient than the hills, looked like he had been recently dug up out of some primeval burial ground for Kings. A long kilt-like garment, long, gray, flowing hair on his head and on his chin. Gold and silver dangling from his ears and arms. He looked to be about 300 years old. He walked slowly, steadily, with purpose, towards the liquor store.

I am convinced he leached in from a breach in the space-time continuum. A ghost, an apparition, a vision, my warrior, spirit-guide. He looked like a King. A Lost King from a Lost Time. He had a real-ness, a gravity, and at the same time he looked like he was striding in another reality.

I didn't stop, but slowed down. Took him in, in all his faded, blazing, time-less, glory. My thought in the moment, "Is this real?"  It was sort like experiencing a lucid dream in the daylight. I wasn't sleeping, but, I wonder, was I dreaming?

This was an impossible vision. Totally. Contrary to everything else on that street. Contrary to logic and rationality. And now that I think about, I seemed to be the only one on the street who even noticed the Warrior King. How is that possible? I have no explanation. But I am now convinced he was a messenger. My glimpse of him was a sign, a word, a reminder, a prophecy, from another place and time. 

Now, of course, every time I pass thru that part of town I look for him. And every day that goes by, and I don't see him, the more I realize he really did appear to me. His absence now, makes his presence then, that more real. Weird. So weird. But true.