Once home I turned to look behind me before opening our front door and shook my head, thinking I was being ridiculous.
"Too many horror movies," I chuckled and entered into the welcoming relief of our air conditioned home.
Because I was drenched with sweat and the sky was turning dark, the first thing I did was peel off my clothes and take a shower. The water cooled my body temperature and began clearing my mind so I could process the events of my little adventure.
How do we know what's real and what's not? What our mind produces vs something else outside of us producing it? And like one of the characters points out in the novel "The Physick Book Of Deliverance Dane" by Katherine Howe, "Just because you don't believe in it, doesn't mean it isn't real." Sure the novel is a work of fiction, but the statement was true. There are always elements of truth in fiction.
I realized I was staring out the bathroom window up at the canopy of maple leaves coming from the huge tree on the other side of our back yard fence which, with all the rain this Spring, was nearly touching the roof again. A distant rumble of thunder had me finishing up my shower a moment later. I wrapped towels around myself and went to find my journal.
I sat at the kitchen table for a long time, pen in hand, hand against the side of my face, half in thought, half zoning out. Had the heat and humidity affected me too much while I was out there? Was I just spooking myself, which I was prone to doing.
"Too many horror movies," I chuckled and entered into the welcoming relief of our air conditioned home.
Because I was drenched with sweat and the sky was turning dark, the first thing I did was peel off my clothes and take a shower. The water cooled my body temperature and began clearing my mind so I could process the events of my little adventure.
How do we know what's real and what's not? What our mind produces vs something else outside of us producing it? And like one of the characters points out in the novel "The Physick Book Of Deliverance Dane" by Katherine Howe, "Just because you don't believe in it, doesn't mean it isn't real." Sure the novel is a work of fiction, but the statement was true. There are always elements of truth in fiction.
I realized I was staring out the bathroom window up at the canopy of maple leaves coming from the huge tree on the other side of our back yard fence which, with all the rain this Spring, was nearly touching the roof again. A distant rumble of thunder had me finishing up my shower a moment later. I wrapped towels around myself and went to find my journal.
I sat at the kitchen table for a long time, pen in hand, hand against the side of my face, half in thought, half zoning out. Had the heat and humidity affected me too much while I was out there? Was I just spooking myself, which I was prone to doing.
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