Airport to Other Dimentions by Julianna Rowe

 

AIRPORT to OTHER DIMENTIONS …. By Julianna Rowe  

                 I am usually in full control of my whereabouts as well as my surroundings at all times. My mind seemed intact as far as I could tell, yet something was certainly amiss.

I was on a small girl’s Schwinn bicycle in the middle of a dark pasture of thick four-inch weeds and grass.   Being of adult stature it was genuinely hard pumping the pedals of that little green bike yet for some strange reason I continued without questioning.  I kept looking behind for my dog Allie but all I could make out was my cat and an instinctive mentality to continue forward to nowhere.    

It was then out of the dark graphite emptiness I saw the two-aluminum saucer like objects each sheltering one bright light about ten feet apart. They appeared similar to on old farm yard lamp or what baby chicks were kept under for warmth at the fair.  Then without a sound I witnessed from some alien world a plane that resembled a small version of a B-52 Bomber using the same aluminum sheltered lights as they guided it to land on the makeshift runway.  I leaped off what seemed to be my childhood bike and began running alongside it through the dense weeds and grass.  It’s luminous landing was commanding my total attention. And then it vanished from sight. I searched the field and barely found it a longer distance away in a misty area.  It was as though it were still there in another dimension I couldn’t cross into. 

                Right ahead of me was an old familiar farmhouse.  My Father was standing outside the back entry facing the landing field.  He acted as though he had also seen something passing through and now still hovering. Or was it he knew? Then he turned toward me and with soulless eyes motioned for me to come.

The woman of the house was at the kitchen table for only moments until she and the table simply faded away disappearing into the night.   She never returned from the darkness like the old man, the cat, and the middle-aged man did.  I don’t think she wanted to return to fix anything.  The others had a need to return or had they never left?

                I entered the once familiar kitchen.  A middle-aged man stood at the sink starring.  Where the beautiful oak kitchen table with its collection of roosters that caressed its center and the surrounding wall shelves used to be was now brown piles on the floor of leftover negative mental debris. There were no table or chairs.  Lying under where each person sat over the hundred years of its existence was unforgiveness, anger, hate, malice, envy, jealousy and more that made up a toxic soup of different sizes and shapes of unfinished brown and gray dirt and dust. Bad energy.

                The man at the sink was trying to wash away the pain from his past existence there. He was hovering and I felt an emotion for him as I saw disappointment etched on his face and his bosom so full of buried emotions I wondered if he might burst.  He did not see me because he was not yet passed on.  The old man saw me and the cat riddled with fear entered the room saw me.  Poor thing was so full of fear and anxiety it fell on its back pawing at the air as though the air was going to execute her.  She appeared to be a pet of mine from the past.  I wondered why she was there.  What needed to be fixed for that old cat and what could I do? What could I do for any of them?  Why was I there? Why did I have to pump that little old bicycle so vigorously across a field of thick weeds to get to that old farmhouse full of bad memories and energies? Was I to take in or let out? Was it too late?

        And then I saw the two alien runway lights re-appear from the darkness and I heard the engines as the pilotless plane opened its throttles and “She” was gone.  My Mother was gone with unfinished business left in dark piles under the once vibrant center of the house, the kitchen table.  My Dad stood at the back stoop and watched her disappear as his once soulless eyes filled with tears, his shoulders slumped, his life with her now truly empty of all.  They had vowed till death do them part and they had honored that. But nothing more. He had waited for her and he could have gone with her but she rejected him again. This time she rejected his spirit.  I wonder where she is.  She always wanted more than him or farm life. Maybe next week she will return to late, like the others in an attempt to fix the piles of incomplete emotions left in the form of tangible earthly energy. Dirty fragments left for the next generation.

We influence others in this life. Evolve or beware of the AIRPORT to OTHER DIMENTIONS. 

Old Farmhouse Photograph by Nicodemo Quaglia