Chapter #32 — The High and the Flighty
to a Psychoanalyst
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 29th October 2013
WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.
I am writing to Dr. Annie Haskell. My form of storytelling is through
letters containing dreams, thoughts, poems, music, describing my script
“Brief Sacrifice,” already made into a film but not yet released, psycho-
therapy, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner workings of the mind,
soul, body, emotions, and bipolar. I prefer mentally creative, interesting, or
having a brain misfiring. Included in the mix are childhood abuse, car crashes,
near drownings, drugs [the illegal kind at present], hallucinations, hypersexuality,
time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuation, imagination, fantasy,
and a need to discover my bliss.
See you inside.
Namaste! Madison Taylor
Private Writings — Chapter #32: The High and the Flighty
Tuesday, 22nd April 2008
Ever since I gave you my first letter to read, I am suddenly having visual dreams I remember. And the symbols in my dreams would make any Jungian jump for joy. I wonder what they would say to my dream. I’d like to tell you about it in our session. I wrote it down the way I remembered it.
It opened inside my dead parents’ house, they are very much present, It is time to walk the dog, so it seems it is up to me. Once I am outside, in the side yard, watching dog, I look through the window into the neighbor’s house. What I see at first is two women, they are physically close, but carefully trying to hide their attraction to the other. Whenever anyone else appears they break away from their closeness. A young man appears at the open door. They quickly move away from the other and start talking, like what I saw never ever happened. As soon as he disappeared, they carefully returned to their former positions of almost touching. When I finally look away, I realize it is time to take the dog back inside. [Did I mention the dog looked exactly like the Cairn terrier, Toto, from the Wizard of OZ?] As I turn to approach the house, I see there is a really large parakeet walking around near where I am heading toward the side door to go back in with the dog. This bird, I notice, has the most beautiful long feathers, a light color. When I say large, she is only 1/3 smaller than I am. She, also, is acting very shy. I would add by saying she is wondering whether she could trust me & also, was it safe to go into the house. With the animals on the steps, I go to open the door to let us all inside. At that very moment, Scottie wakes me up.
I really want you to interpret it at our next appointment on Tuesday. It is amazing that ever since I let myself be vulnerable to you, by sharing my other letters I wrote before we started therapy, I am starting to have really vivid dreams. But even more significant, I am taken back to my home when I was a kid, which no longer exists & I already told you my parents are gone, gone, gone, just like the home my family lived in. [It really was torn down & the buyer rebuilt something even larger].
I’d like to talk to you, also, about how this dream made me feel. One feeling I get from it is, why am I seeing lesbians, or better yet, why am I watching through the neighbor’s window. I never do things like that. I think maybe inside my dream I must have been daydreaming. Maybe the thought of seeing Jonathan Stephens for the first time has me thinking about what we will look like to one another. It is a shock to have someone see me. I don’t like seeing me most of the time. Jonathan & I have been writing & Skyping with each other for years. Just not using video. We met in some gay-lesbian chat room many years ago. Usually, men talked to men and women talked to other women. Sexes who were attracted to the same sex didn’t seem too interested in the opposite sex. A lot of women, including myself, went through a phase of not thinking men had anything particularly of value to offer. If you think about it, if women could get pregnant by parthenogenesis & didn’t need sperm, how long do you feel the human race wouldn’t slowly make a male chromosome a recessive gene? Men would just fade away.
Do I think that way? No, otherwise Jonathan wouldn’t be my best friend forever. He is a fantastic artist. We share a great deal in common. We both were injured in car accidents & broke our necks. His was discovered at the scene of his accident & he was put into traction right away. Mine wasn’t discovered until years later. Fortunately, the hospital was smart enough to have me wear a neck brace & I was smart enough never to take it off, except to take quick showers. I didn’t like taking it off. When I did my neck hurt like hell. My break was only discovered when several years later I started losing the use of the right side of my upper body. It started with my neck & shoulders. I had such intense pain & weakness. It, eventually, worked its way down into my right hand. The pain was making it impossible to write with my right hand or raise my right arm.
My doctor sent me to a specialist. I told him the pain was paralyzing. The doctor ordered some x-rays and an MRI. He discovered a healed over fracture in my third and fourth neck vertebrae. It was, as he described it, a broken neck, I think to scare me, he told me if I ever had just a slightly overzealous neck adjustment, I could have easily become paralyzed from the neck down. He scheduled surgery immediately. It was to relieve the pain & pressure on the nerve endings in my neck. He removed a disc which were causing the vertebrae to smother & pinch the nerve endings, cutting off any communication with the nerves travelling down my right arm to my right hand & to make the pain go away, I had a plate put in my neck & lost a disc. I feel pretty good considering what the alternative might have been thanks to the hospital I went to after that terrible accident. A lot happened in that accident, I am not ready to talk about yet. I did write about it in one of my previous letters to you. But it will come up when it is the right time.
I wanted your help in preparing to meet someone I know like I know myself but don’t things change when you meet someone in person. They are really strangers. I’m afraid after Jonathan meets me, it will kill our friendship & forever will turn into never again.
I know we should be really talking about getting me on the plane that will take Scottie and I to Paris, France. Otherwise, there really isn’t a need for discussion of anything that is coming ahead. Next week is the cast-a-way party, where crew & cast meet all around. Hunter Marx is sure to be the center of attention. She always is these days.
I want the script I wrote for our film, “Touch of the Spirit” to really work. Scottie wants me there for luck & for company. Also, it won’t hurt in case there is a need for rewrites & there always are, Nothing can be completely seen as it is going to come off on film. You told me today, you were going to supply me with some major pills to take long before liftoff. They will make me sleep the whole flight. But what if there is a delay? Or someone does something wrong? And what about missing our wonderful babies, our little Toker, Mikey & Patrick? I know a friend is going to be house sitting. That will make the boys happy but they will miss our snuggles at night & during our time in the evening when we all crash in front of the HD & watch films & veg out.
I do have the schedule for our Skype sessions, which is great, It makes me so happy you were able to work that out. It will be in your evening & my nighttime. You are so accommodating my schedule. You don’t know how much this means to me. If I lost contact with you, I don’t know how crazy I would get on Scottie. Plus, we don’t know how Hunter Marx is going to behave having Scottie around her again. She may take another round of trying to seduce my woman. She hates it when I say that or even joke about it. She doesn’t realize how insecure that makes me feel. I really wish she would say yes to marry me once same-sex marriage becomes legal. I did get her to accept my proposal when we are old & ready to walk over into the light.
There is something I wanted to tell you. Something, a feeling, it has made me feel extremely shy when I think about talking to you about it. When I first looked at you. The first session in the women’s group, when you started co-leading. That was a joke. He never let you unless he was gone. Don’t want to go there. Let him stay living locked up in a safe room at the local hospital for the criminally insane. But I said, I don’t want to go there. Where I want to go is to tell you how it made me feel when I returned to group after my cancer treatment, still in an exhaustive state. Really too weak to drive, but I did it anyway. I just had to get out of the house & go someplace where I hadn’t been in almost a whole year.
When I walked into the therapy room that day, the first thing I did was make eye contact with you. I wasn’t surprised you were there but I had no idea who you were or what you were doing there. I just knew I was looking into the eyes of someone I knew, as though we had met before. It was like looking into a familiar painting I had never seen before but I knew all about it. It was like reading a poem I had never read before and I knew exactly what the poet was trying to say in their deeper mind. I saw inside your soul through your eyes. The reflection was like a pool of clear water that had such a depth, that when examined, had no bottom. You were infinite. That is when I knew our souls knew one another. They had been together before and were looking for the other again in this life. You came to me & I found you. Our paths were following the same course to lead to that moment. And we found each other, not just by chance, it was meant to be, we wander along a path, the choices we made, they were destiny guiding us but no force was involved, no coercion, just our souls needed to be rejoined to make them whole again. Wholeness renews happiness and fullness enriches the whole being. The ripple effect from such a joining is infinitely phenomenal.
Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all place as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.
I will end this letter in this one moment of now.
© madison taylor 2008
Soul Through Your Eyes
By Madison Taylor
29th April 2008
Soul through the eyes
Reflections in a pool of clear water
Depths examined are bottomless
Infinity has been discovered
In a pool of vision
Trying to express
In a deeper mind
The poet must proclaim
Souls recognize a counterpart
Eye contact with the self
In someone else’s eyes
Knowing but haven’t met yet
Finding but soul came to soul
Paths were followed but different
Yet they all led to now
A moment meeting in time
With energy from outside of time
Wandering along making choices
Destiny secretly guiding them
Yet the choices are free
No coercion involved
But paths are meant to be
On the course they are following
Though they make the decisions
What courses will be taken
What are the odds of the choices?
What is supposed to be chosen?
And it turns out to be correct
Or are there no mistakes
The familiar painting of life
Is designed and prepared before birth
It is like reading a poem
Never written but once it is
It is familiar as though read before
Led to the moment eyes meet
From the moment following
Paths are joined
Meeting to follow
As long as the path continued on
All is whole again
Souls have been delivered
The right door has been opened
Wholeness is fulfilled
Wholeness renews happiness
Fullness enriches the whole being.
The ripple effect in such a joining
Is infinitely phenomenal
It will continue forever
Repeating until a completeness
Is infinitely successful
© madison taylor 2008
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor