The white witch enters from the left side of my vision. Her long, blonde hair is almost the same color as the optic white robes that flow behind her thin frame. She turns to look at me and her blue eyes pierce through me. Her gaze is pointed, but soft. She is here to show me the way. I follow her through the dark tunnel and out into the light.
At the edge of the light field she embraces me, wrapping me up in her maternal warmth. In her arms I am melted, evaporating beyond the density that brought me here. She imbues me with the strength of a love that I had temporarily forgotten. Within this temporary resting place, I steep myself in the weightlessness of the moment before we both let go.
Beyond the light, the trees watch me in a new way. It’s as if they have always been watching in this way, but I finally took notice. I look down at my hands and see them begin to pass through transforming terrains. My palms face upwards as they move through space and time, through mountains aging, oceans thrashing, and seasons changing. All around me the scenery morphs, births and combusts, but my hands remain constant and still.
There is a comforting familiarity to these places that I seem to have witnessed but don’t remember when. They are carved in the deep folds of my memory. I remember shivering in the cold and delighting in the mountain air, using my two hands as tools to feel through time.
I open my eyes and wipe the tears that have fallen during my time away. It’s a relief to find myself in that place again. My eyes had closed on a sunset horizon and they awakened to a night sky full of beaming stars. I’m still sitting cross legged, in the same spot that I left my body from. Walking through the tunnel to retrieve these forgotten parts of myself is a release that sends me to sit within the openness of infinity.
I look to my left and the silhouette of the white witch stands at the edge of the cliff that overlooks the ocean. Her white robes blow in the wind before she walks back and disappears into the dark.