The Weilders Stone

Memories of the past drift in, mostly feelings; the energy of love intertwined with pain. Never a moment of peace even while pretending to be at peace. A war zone of internal torment, yearning, screaming to be free. A constant battle of the mind versus the heart. An egotistical desire to be a part of the masses while the whimsical tales of my soul burn for more.

Was I created to travel this realm alone? To mentally feel left on a deserted island, jilted, and separated?

A reel of past lives, old-world tales, and hidden knowledge. I see them clearly but the secret of my century-old past must remain within the confines of my mind for this land will shackle me between walls of very little light and force me to overdose on synthetic droplets infused with sedation.

I guzzle down the last few ounces of bourbon in my glass and view the lands from the window of my Louisiana apartment as droplets of grey rain tap the pane and drizzle traces of whispers. I pondered and before I realized a low voice protruded from my throat.

"I wish"

The words began but I dare not finish its request.

Wishes are tiny little buggers; mischievous and diabolical. They twist the words of a man only to produce something more opposing in its place. A box is simply not a box, and love is simply not love. I know this because I am a wielder and I have made wishes from the Stone of Desire. Some wishes have provided great use while others have left me, well, let's just say the patch on my right eye was not due to a human-lined accident.

Dream Collision

About 4 years ago, I was a radio host for a popular station in Manhattan, New York; Live with Eli. It was an okay position, paid well and I worked mainly mornings leaving the remainder of the day free to utilize as I saw fit.

Unfortunately, during a routine crossing, I collided with a vehicle that ran a red light. The crash totaled my car and banged me up a bit leaving a few scars and a mild concussion. After returning from the hospital a couple of days later, I started having reoccurring dreams of a woman dressed in Arabian garb and wearing an odd piece of yellow amber around her neck and a silver cuff with a piece of black onyx in its center.

At first, I thought it was a reaction from the accident - as the doctors reassured me - but after further research and several internet browsers later I stumbled upon an article about past lives. It stated that sometimes we are able to access glimpses of our past lives through dreams which are usually brought on by some sort of trauma. One of which is a head injury.

The more the dreams occurred the more curious I became.

Every day after work, I found myself engulfed in research, mounds of notes, books, and browser tabs. I even figured out a way to lucid dream and have control over my nightly travels and once I did it opened a doorway of knowledge and access to her; Ishelle.

I spent time with Ishelle on the other side. Her smile was breathtaking and her eyes could burn a hole in a man's soul. She was beautiful and kind. Ishelle would share tales of the old world and how we met and became lovers. I asked her questions about our life together, what I did, my role, and whether I was kind to her and the people. She would always nod with a smile and then sigh.

One astral travel, I asked her why she sighed which was usually moments before I would need to return to the real world. She said, “because she wished she could see me when we were awake”. I paused and asked, “Are you not simply a memory of my past?” She chuckled and then replied, “No my love, I am alive and well but you have to find me.” Then she paused, “But in order to do so you must cast a wish upon your stone”.

That was 4 years ago and the last time I saw Ishelle. Well, the last time I saw her in the Astral realm.

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I hope you enjoyed this not so newfound way of expression. While I love writing about my life and the lessons that come along with it, I hold a special place in my heart for storytelling.

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Until next time, readers.