Pointing Upward

In my home-office in an older 30’s building in classic Spanish style. It has open stairs to the roof, totally open to the sky with pillars about 8 ft high all around to shade some of the sun. In one corner of this roof deck shoots a Moorish minerat.

The building is white-washed, fading and peeling in the hot sun. I was online doing a search, and scrolled past a real estate agents’ photo who I had talked to the night before. She curiously left her camera on, so her photo was still live on this particular site. She was angry with client who she was talking to. I scrolled back to see her, kind of shocked at her behavior and how funny this looked on a web page. She noticed midway through that she was broadcasting this, or perhaps she saw me on my camera and leaned forward and clicked it off. In the background and out of open staircase to the roof, I heard a man, saying out loud, “I will see if I can destroy this thing!” with a Czech accent. I can hear a guy beating away at my building with his hand, when he decides to ram it with his body. Guessing it was the minerat, I ran up the stairs to the roof.  On the way up, I decide that no matter how threatening he is and how mad I am, that I will be kind in my approach.

I get to the roof, and say with a curiously sweet face, “Now, why would like to destroy my old building, exactly?” I walk casually towards him and put out my hand. He is already confused by my reaction and stops banging, and I walk closer even though I see he is carrying a gun with his nice cameras. He softens enough that upon touching his hand, all stream has blown out of his idea. I say, put your hand on my chest to know I am a breathing human being just like you. He reaches out, and I have already touched his shoulder. Although bigger than I am, he is blond and slightly sweating and feels warm to touch. I defused the whole situation by not meeting his anger with anger. He did not really know it was my building. I get a close look at his gun and nice cameras, and compliment him on his good taste in cameras, as I walk him across the roof and down towards my steps off the roof. But then I notice, all these framed photos I took years ago, laid out on the roof deck, like a gallery display. I say, this is curious in my head, while moving a few aside, not to step on them. I look at the man with a slightly surprised face, and can see he can provide no answers, either.

I am beginning to put it all together, that I am dead and my old photos I have taken over the years have been laid out by my family or my partner.  With a warm feeling and no panic, it is was done for me, and then I roll over and wake up from my morning dream. I usually fall asleep after my pre-dawn hour meditation, and I must be working out some part of my unconscious with a little flare.


A little aside, if I die or any else close to you dies in your presence — tap three times firmly on the third eye(between the eye brow) to help mine or their spirit leave their body, instead of lingering around.