Two manuscripts and white wild flowers

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My Two Manuscripts

In the night-time I dreamed that I was at a wedding ceremony on the celestial plane. The bride was beautiful — she had a wreath of flowers on her head, and she wore an ivory lace dress. On the other hand, the bridegroom was a gigantic energy being, same as the others that were present at the dreamsical astral wedding. During the whole ceremony I held my two manuscripts tightly against my heart.

And after that the ritual was over, they all surrounded the blue planet, and showered blessings, hearts, fruits and vegetables, money, flowers, and lots of petals; as for the mortal bride, she threw some big roasted meat😂… but the celestial beings didn’t seem to care at all. And I, I was still holding against my chest the manuscript of Darcocyte, and that of my book of poems, all the while good vibrations beamed out from the hands of these celestial beings. Afterwards, they all receded into darkness to obscure their presence.

Seven years later - two books

Yesterday I received the manuscripts of Darcocyte and my book of poems, and I couldn’t stop my joy from bursting out, I couldn’t hide all of the happiness I felt when I touched my concrete words. I held these manuscripts as if they were real babies, kissing them, and even having them on my bedside for the night… yes, I know, that’s a bit too exaggerating😂, but I tend to get very eccentric when I am overly happy.

Last night, right before going to bed, I watched the end of a movie, and as well as a mini documentary which had for main theme spirituality — and I did this all the while holding my two manuscripts tightly against my heart; and I guess that’s from where stems this very weird dream — the strangeness of this ongoing peculiar time.

I know that nothing is won yet, but I just couldn’t stop admiring them while thinking about these last seven years, where I worked so hard so to be able to write this book, and of all the things that I’ve neglected in my life so as to be able to finish it, to the point of not wanting to go out, living as an hermit so as to only concentrate on writing. I poured all my heart and what remains of my love in these two books just to be able to find myself once more. I have shed so many tears, made so many mistakes, been so dramatic and alienated, but I think that I was able to find a purpose that passionate me enough to shake myself up for good.

I now feel that I am a little bit more emotionally prepared for whatever comes my way.

But right now I’m also so vividly emotional that I am unable to focus properly — my mind is stirring up, my thoughts are fuzzing in all directions, I am thinking a thousand things at the same time, and I’m starting to feel physically and mentally tired; I think that I need some good rest, and perhaps go out more, and have a change of air.

I tell to myself that if even nothing what I’m doing now works in the future, at least I’ll have a body of work that I’ll be proud of, that, my children and grandchildren will have a legacy of words that I hope will help them flourish, too. Apart from thinking that I’m doing this for myself, I also like to think of the impact that I’ll make on my descendants; the romantic me is always thinking of my creative legacies, for somewhere deep down inside of me, a voice keeps screaming loud and clear to open up the way for something that will be greater than me.

Darcocyte and Book of poems


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