The day before Faith’s answer was due, I woke up in a state of infinite peace, with a certainty that the future would get sorted out, with an elevated perspective. Suddenly the latent frustration and restlessness from unsuccessful, never-ending condo-fishing was gone. Although I was pleased to be in this sudden state, it was at the same time somehow unsettling, since my mind could find no reason for this change in energy.
That night I was sleeping, when I woke up in the middle of the night, excited and in peace, in that state where you are unable to distinguish which reality is the dream. While sleeping, I saw the saint after which I am named (she is popular in the US and I have seen plenty of statues of her)- she was in a dark space, but her face was glowing- I know she has been portrayed as a woman of beautiful facial factions, but now she was more glowing than ever. She was just smiling with so much sweetness and compassion that it was as if her smile would talk to me or touch me. But she said or did nothing, just smiling and looking at me in my eyes. It was such a powerful, real-like dream. It took me some time to go back to sleep, mainly trying to understand what had happened, where I was… If I had gone to bed in peace, now peace was so dominant that it was narcotic. What my mind to this day cannot understand is where that came from. Although I had seen images of this saint in previous visits to the US (all of them surprise encounters), I had not seen her during this visit. I was perplexed. I am perplexed.
If the day before I was in peace, this day was inexplicable: a fuller, higher, steadier, imperturbable state. As if my whole being had been taken over by peace, from breathing to every single action.
In the meantime and while Faith kept postponing her answer with unbelievable excuses, a promising place in Rego Park had just become available. We were only thirty minutes away so we rushed to see it. It was like living in any suburbia of any other country: close to a highway, close to a massive mall, close to the airport. Nothing like our candidate in Clinton Hill. Although the lobby looked surprisingly pleasant and spotlessly clean, the big shocker was waiting for us upstairs: the owner, an Indian girl in her late twenties was moving out. On top of the usually expected, pre-moving mess, there were pots of food and left-overs in every room on every surface other than the floor. These were temporary conditions of the place, however location was a bummer. On our way back, we had started to discuss alternative ideas -even camping, when my lazy cell-phone advised that I had a message.
No comments:
Post a Comment