88 - A God, Rich

Lin

I'm realising today how lucky I am.

In spite of my obscurity, I now know that there are few people out there that hate me.

Let's just put it this way: no one has yet made a proper hate train for me that has lasted.

And I intend to keep it that way.

I've been sleeping in a lot more recently.

Realistically, I shouldn't, as I have both a doctor's appointment and a UC appointment to answer the phone to tomorrow, but I'm sure I'll work it out.

My dreams have been very vivid.

The subliminal I listen to has been very helpful in decreasing my anxiety, and aiding me in manifesting a better mindset, which is great - and it seems to have made my dreams pop out to me, too.

All of the dreams I've had so far as a result that have been important have come from me listening to it.

It's like cleaning out the clutter.

Weirdly, I don't remember much of the dreams I had earlier, though I think that may be a good thing this time around.

I know I did dream though, and that's always a good thing.

Last night, I cried for the first time in a while.

The social isolation I've experienced over the past two to three years got me to a certain point, and so I needed to ask for help. And I did.

On a high note, I got my PIP money yesterday, which means I'm set for a while.

I also won £2 on a lottery game, which is always a plus.

More than anything though, I'm excited to move on and start again.

I am open to wherever the wind may take me next.

I sit in the nemeton with a dish of Reese's cookie dough in my lap, when I hear an odd noise from near my altar, that sounds reminiscent of some kind of telecom.

Lovely?

!

I almost drop the dish, but compose myself slightly, carefully put the dish on the coffee table and fly into the prayer room.

His face is projected from what looks to be a small mirror, with both a clock and map face etched into it. The only person I can think of who would be able to make that kind of thing is my Dad. 

It's you.

He raises an eyebrow, and smiles.

Yeah. Did ya miss me?

It's my turn to raise my eyebrow.

What kind of question is that?

He grins, shaking his head.

I thought that might be your response.

I roll my eyes, but I know my excitement is obvious, so I recompose myself slightly. I gesture towards the mirror.

Who?

Your Dad.

Ya, I thought so.

For a moment, you can hear a pin drop. But his loving gaze softens that silence with certainty - of safety, of support, of validation.

Are you alright there?

I hesitate on that one, but his response to that is gentle, as always. What's better, is that he can read me well by now.

There's no wrong answer, though I think I'm right in assuming that's a no.

I nod slowly.

Hey, it's alright. You've been isolated physically in terms of trustworthy people for a long time. I daresay more time than you actually account for. The last time we actually got to be together was in the 1790s, no?

He's right. It has been that long.

Not to mention that rickmansworth has used almost all 200 or so years we haven't been able to be together since then to essentially isolate and gaslight you into accepting serious abuse from the beginning of at least three of your lives, and has been very heavy on the spiritual abuse.

If anything, you're chronically spiritually scarred and starved as it is, and now it's also coming up in your social life as a result. None of that's your fault, lovely.

Even though he can't hug me from here, that is what this entire conversation feels like to me. I realise now - my whole life can be as rich as this love is, that transcends time, that transcends reason, that transcends hardship. If someone loves me this much to help me, I can build everything back up to be better than I found it.

Trugarez. I needed that.

I mean, billions of years of marriage to him, of all people, was of course going to be wonderful. We both knew what we were getting when we agreed.

Of course, ma kared. This should have been dealt with a long time ago.

He should have been dealt with a long time ago.

For a minute, he looks like he could be about to commit murder. But there must be a sense of concern in my visage, because when his focus shifts towards me again, his expression softens.

Hey. Don't worry, I'll find you. Mat eo din?

I nod vigorously.

Mat eo din.

I can see his face flushing slightly, and I smirk. He notices.

Behave.

I giggle, and despite his reply, he's smiling too.

I have to go now, but I'm keeping to my word. If you need anything, you let me know, ok?

Ya.

Karout a ran ac'hanout.

Karout a ran ac'hanout.

He's about to disappear, but...

Terrence!

I think I surprised him a bit with that, as I rarely call anyone, particularly him, by name. At least, out loud, anyway.

Keep safe.

He looks me up and down for a minute, then smiles.

I will, lovely.