Sage. Wendy Anne

      XI

      Erotic Vibes

      The darkness begins to thicken until my eyes are of no use at all. I see nothing—not the moon nor the high tides of the sea. My skin feels as if it’s being torn apart by the bitter sands whipping around in the winds. Such forceful weather could bring the tides to drag me into the ocean to drown, so I run in the opposite direction of the sound of the waves. My efforts are slowed by the soft and deep sands, yet I manage to pick up some momentum. That is until cold hands grip me firmly by my upper arms, halting me in place. I exerted as much strength as possible to break free, but I am powerless, like a madman in a straitjacket.

      “Where do you expect to run? Is running all you do? And is running how you have become so oblivious to my existence? How did you manage to forget me and the reason it’s necessary to wake?” Behind the fury in his voice, there is compassion, for he doesn’t ask to shame me or scare me but to rattle the strength of his concern into me.

      I may not remember everything, but I did not forget bits and pieces of the last lucid dream we shared. How else could I explain these feelings and memories, holding me in place just as much as his grip?

      “What is this overpowering connection I feel, and how do you have such control over my mind, over me?” He ignores his responsibility to answer my question.

      “Dance with me, my love, and let the rhythm of our song play a recognizable symphony in your heart, so that you may reflect on the energy that binds us,” he states in a voice too enduring to refuse. There is no music, yet he moves in such a sweet melody towards me with rhythmic vibration similar to music. The weight of our astral bodies lifts into the air, as my stomach descends to where my feet once were. While in the air, I start to hear music orchestrated by the laws of vibration that must have manifested through powers of his collective memories. The vibrating strings of his musical energy waltzes in and out of genres and time frames, in an enigmatic sequence. Though it is a compilation of human words and instruments, the radical pitch and musical structure is nothing like I’ve ever experienced from any human-made radio frequencies. The electromagnetic waves transform me by intertwining with my energy as it vibrates all of my senses.

      This mystifying sensation causes me to shut my eyes and be in the moment without past tense or future tense interference. Below us, the tides still roar, as if the wind and water have joined in howling in elemental frustration. The same demons that have beckoned me in the dark or during my scariest nightmares are on the beach in partial view chanting in a language that is too obscure to make out. They laugh intermittently, but it doesn’t matter. They are below us, and they are powerless as we danced to the rhythm of love resounding in a thousand tongues. Above the chaotic bliss, he speaks, “I have been watching your every move, and there are times where I miss being with you, tasting your emotional tears, and feeling your physical body against mine. I’d rather suffer the dark of ignorance than to know what it is I long for while waiting to join you once more.”

      I do not ask his name, nor does he mention it, when his name suddenly pervades my thoughts. “Marcus?”

      “That is my name, yet it isn’t. That was my most recent name, though I have gone by many others as have you. Nobody has called me that name since I was in mere mortal form during the twentieth-century holocaust, but if that is the name you commit to memory, so shall it be.”

      His long, thin fingers grip the contours of my face firmly, bringing my eyes up to the level of his own.

      “Even now, you act as if you simply imagine me. I am here, and though we dwell in a moment between dimensions, our moment is as real as creation,” he says while he grips and draws it closer to his own. His eyes stare deep into mine, and his supple lips form a smirk at my utter powerlessness.

      “It has not always been like this. Eternal awareness is essential to our existence. Forgetting impairs our ability to share immortality. One short life span is inconsequential when compared to eternity, but this time has proven too difficult,” he continues. “So easily distracted by your lavish lifestyle—you forget all that we are, and all that this is. There are times where we’ve lived separate lives, neither of us aware of each other until the time was right, but this point in time, you are unaware of some of your most essential attributes and the ultimate reason for being born where and when you were. Even as I watch you with great admiration, during moments where you advocate love, truth, and heartfelt intentions, I pray that you seek deeper within yourself and trust more in the universe. Once you’re better aligned, you’ll feel more appreciative, doors will open for you, and your true path will be revealed in the shape of abundance and healing. Until then, only bits and pieces of your eternal self will leak through, and you will be caught in the madness of deciphering which is true and what is not. Your memory is clouded with toxic thoughts and anxiety that prevent you from the memory of me, no matter how many nights we meet. Did you forget about this?” I am rewarded with a succulent kiss, though I feel unworthy. It comes with the parched taste of blood, and with each probing of his tongue, it is hard not to gasp for air. “The life of your predetermined body is in your blood. I wear the taste of it on my lips, for it is the closest I can connect to your physical realm and your beating heart. We are spiritual beings, who occasionally enjoy a human experience. Our story is a flame that burns indefinitely, unchanged by time. Everything else will fade in due course, except for the essence collected from each experience, especially ones bound to love. Therein lies your true magic, which has the endurance to do immeasurable things such as bending atoms to your will.”

      I respond by intertwining my fingers in his long flowing hair and pulling him towards me again, as we engage in another extraordinary kiss. Our bioenergetic manifestations have a tight connection, and they are begging to amalgamate sexually. My appetite has a dire craving for emotional and sensory feedback, as my sexual center floods with arousing energies. With his lips pressed tightly against mine, we are locked tight in the deception of the night. Scrolling his fingers down my shoulders, and outlining each crevice, creates orgasmic stimulation. His touch is fire and shapes me like a melting candle dripping with pleasure, and my femininity is like the ocean whereby he flows through any element he desires.

      Each stroke brings another wave of ecstasy, and each penetration is loaded with memories as if he were trying to impregnate each thought into the core of my being. I cannot contain my inner lioness from the need to claw my fingernails under his chemise, and at the same time, I roar into the cosmos with sexual relief. “My beautiful lioness has returned,” he murmurs as he sinks his teeth into my earlobe and tugs it lovingly. “It has been millennia since I’ve heard that roar, and how lovely it is.”

      Lost in the sublimity of the moment that surrounds us becomes pure madness. Griffins with eagle-like wings and faces fly around us, though I’m too preoccupied to become distracted by their majestic presence. The demons are still here, though they’re intimidated by our immense energy. His breath in my ear, a voice of understanding infused with disappointment and sadness tells me our moment is coming to its end and that we’ll have to part ways and join our separate realms once more. Wrapping his arms tightly around my neck and back, he lifts me against him, and the combination of the motion and the emotion gives way to another orgasm. Still inside me, moving slowly, tears pour down both of our faces—as if this is goodbye forever, though we are both aware that we are eternal lovers. “Forget me not.” He plunges his hardest yet as if planting the seeds of his final words deep inside of me along with his climax. Forcing my face to his cold forehead, wet with tears, as we join in a mutual feeling of loss, and we remained that way until I shut my eyes, and reopened them.

      As I open my eyes, the supple couch that pillowed my body surrounds me again. No more sand, only the cool draft of my living room.

      A surge of passion swims through my veins. Was that a