Memories of hills like that, staring up at them for tens of minutes as mother or grandmother drove through winding dark roads to eat. The Inn of the Seventh Ray is a comfortable restaurant, with old wood tables set out under oaks and willows, near the wooded inclines of inviting darkness. On rare occasions there were the faintest outlines of lights through the trees. Soft deep blue incandescence, moving occasionally.

Sometimes I remember standing with people on hilltops as dark as those. Patches of vision. Climbing up a hill and speaking to a woman, much older than I am. She was lovely from what I remember: long straight blonde hair, tender disposition, but distant somehow. She'd always tell me that I was special somehow, so much older in spirit than I was in body. I didn't understand, really, I just hugged her alot.

There were others who I can't see. They stayed far away, talking in small clandestine clumps here and there. There was one man, though, who always regarded me with a scowl. He hated me. His eye ridge would press together, earthquake-ridden ground shooting planes of fiery rock into the sky. Anything he said to me was a guttural bass. His voice terrified me.

We would gather to perform rites. I tagged along because I needed to learn about what they were doing, why they were using the particular wording and methods. It didn't make sense, but some part of me deeply resonated with it.

I still can't remember much...just people cloaked in black on hills of pitch in the dead of night. She took care of me, so then why is it I see only him time and again?

I stare out the window. I want to be there again, past where the limelight dimly burns. I want to be back where I didn't know anything except what came to me in short bursts of clarity. I want to be with you and understand what it is you try to show me, feeling it deep down.

I want to feel like I'm a part of something again, of someone again. I try to imagine who I am now being there. I only see myself. Where have people like that gone? Where did I go?

Is there reason for all of this? I stare out and feel comforted, thinking that's all that matters.

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