Living Fiction

Wizard of Oz or Alice Through the Looking Glass? These great works of literature are seemingly
parallel to my life at present; if not in totality at least in part.

In snippets, really, because I don't possess total recall of all the delightful and complex characters involved in the telling of those two tales.  I'm just sitting here deep in thought as to why I don't recognize my role in my own life.  Am I not justified in thinking that the consequences to all MY choices are the result of MY actions? Is MY truth not mine?

There are two possibilities, given the title to this story.  Either I have fallen down the rabbit hole or I grabbed my picnic basket and little dog and headed down the yellow brick road. My reality needs a reality check. Loss of control is a terrible burden to one who believed herself incapable of mental incontinence.

I am unprepared, ill-equipped and scared to death of this present situation. There is no reasonable explanation for this abrupt divergence from my strategically planned life. I've paid my dues and slid into old age according to the directions. The warranties on my parts are expiring and I'm a victim to the current health care options.  Life just gets less exciting, more predictable and then you die.  No reason to be thrust into another existential dimension, NOT NOW!

And yet, here I am-in flux. Damn.

Denial won't solve the puzzle. There's energy, constant swirling energy approaching the horizon and I will be swept up into it.  This I know.  It has been foretold. In my soul portraits, the focal point remains but the evolution through the series, defines my energy being guided by entities of passionate love and protection. My last portrait was commissioned 4 years ago.  The color pallet softened and the canvas appears to have tiny twinkling lights (my guides).

Don't get excited, I am not a predictor of any apocalypse. I don't believe in the end of the physical world, I don't believe in final judgment and I don't need my soul saved (it's not mine to begin with).

I'm a metaphysical being in transition. I have layers and layers upon layers of purpose.  We all do. We all have multiple personality disorder; it's just that some of us would rather not expose ourselves.  We fear ridicule and failure.  Neither will cause an end to our truth.

Unlike the masterpieces of fiction I have referenced, my journey does not invite companions.  There is no cast of characters; no personification of relations. I have my own White Rabbit keeping me in the moment.

The yellow brick road leads to Chrystal City. The Wizard is not whom we first believed.  Perhaps my journey is a reflection in the looking glass rather than through the other side.

Dorothy and Alice awakened to find nothing had changed.  As for me, I'd rather keep dreaming.