Morning Rambles


I dreamt of being moved with my family to a sort of apartment building in a little town far south of my actual home but still in this state.  The rooms were lit by lamps and candles and heated with wood stoves which we also cooked on.  We washed our clothes in a communal fountain in the square.  We shared an old fashioned well for our drinking water. 

The town was quaint with Bavarian style buildings and coblestone streets, like Leavenworth.  I went wandering out to explore it on my own, turned a few corners, and got lost. 

A man with a Greyhound bus that had been converted into a big motorhome saw me wandering and stopped for me.  I got on thinking it a regular bus and that I could give my street name here and he’d just drop me there. 

I got on, saw the interior and, surprised, forgot my original intent and asked him to take me to my real home instead.  But where is home? It should have been where my family was, wherever that was.  My parents, sister, and brother were in the apartment building in this town.  Jeb was back at my real home and I’d somehow forgotten him until then.

The driver told me this was his personal bus, not a public one.  It was his home on wheels and if I wanted him to take me home, I’d have to bargain with something more than money.  I was desperate to get home so I accepted these terms not even knowing what they might end up being.

At that point Jeb woke me and my first words to him were, “Oh good!  I’m home safe!  I don’t have bargain now.  I’m glad you found me!”

He blinked.  “Good morning to you too.”

My drive in to work was a distracted one.  Only on Fridays do I drive myself.  Only on Fridays do I witness sunrise.

The roads were bare and dry though snow lay on the ground, a beautiful winter wonderland of landscape spreading out in the valley and rolling up in dark blue hills to meet the purple silhouettes of the Cascade mountain range.  

Snow frosted the tall pines and the branches of barren deciduous trees. The sky, pale aqua, was marred only with a few small strands of dark clouds like tattered ribbons just over the mountains yet still looked fresh washed and innocent like a baby from the bath.  It gleamed through the frosted lacework of trees on my left. 

Right ahead of me, the moon still lingered, a clipped giant’s thumnail on the blue, hanging to the right of Mount Rainiers pale gold and blue ghost, huge even at this distance, over a hundered miles away.  It’s a sight that always lingers in me.  As I wrote of it in haiku before:

Mount Rainier,

Pale against the blue,

Golden sunlight filtered through,

Opalescent frost,

Ethereal and soon lost.

Is that proper haiku?  Anyway…

A moment down the road, golden rays shot up from behind the mountain crest and edged all the dark cloud strands to gold immediately above and pink those on either side.

A moment hence, the golden disk of the sun itself peered above those jagged purple peaks, gilding their edges before quickly becoming too fiery dazzling to look at directly anymore, rising full so that I could almost hear its thuderous triumphant ascent into the sky.  Those dark cloud strands, golden edge, now blushed in lavender out of apparent deferance and the pinks further on deepend and took on a golden glow of their own.

A little further down the road, I rounded a bend and the giant plume of a steam plant came into view.  It wasn’t white at this hour though.  The bottom half was indigo.  The top half was the peculiarly radiant golden pink you can only ever find in the sky.

I wish I could have taken a picture every step of the way, but it would have been hard to do considering I was driving and, besides, hadn’t taken my camera along.  So these words here will have to suffice.  I just wish I could paint as splendidly as that sky.  It brings to mind the words of a favorite song by Eddi Reader- Bell, Book, and Candle:

The blue around the morning moon
The colour of your eyes
I remember holding you
Fall through summer skies
You’re everything that I’ve become, every word I say
I need a bell, book and candle to keep your ghost away

White horses on a troubled sea
Your smile will flash through time
Up ahead a blackbird’s wing
Your hair will come to mind
Every night I see your face when I have to pray
I need a bell, book and candle to keep your ghost away

Keep your ghost away, keep your ghost away
I need a bell, book and candle to keep your ghost away

Just before the thunder roars
I sense you next to me
And as I move through nature
I know where you will be
So I must keep myself apart,here is where I’ll stay
With a bell, book and candle to keep your ghost away

Keep your ghost away, keep your ghost away
You need a bell, book and candle to keep your ghost away

The blue around the morning moon
The colour of your eyes
I remember holding you
Fall through summer skies
You’re everything that I’ve become, every word I say
I need a bell, book and candle to keep your ghost away

Love that song!  It was the song for Prue’s lovely funeral on a favorite television show of mine called Charmed.

Okay, enough rambling.  I’m begining to sound like daffy Ghaddafy who, even being the monster that he is, can always make me laugh with the crazy things he says, like how he’s going to die a martyr on his own soil.  Oi vey!  What is his martyrdom for? His own power?  Or how Al Quaida is drugging the coffee of Libyan teens to make them rebel against him.   Or how he was restraining himself from having his own people shot in the streets AFTER he’d already had them straffed by war planes and ground troups.  What restraint?  He’s a cold blooded mass murderer! Or how he was given a 15 minute speaking slot at the UN some years ago and rambled on with compete nonsense for an hour and a half.  Yep.  He’s nuts.  Scary nuts, but hilarious all the same in a very twisted kind of dark way, Monty Pythonish almost.

Oh oh.  What does that say for me if I ramble like him?  Maybe that’s a bad analogy.  I just hope I’m not dark and twisted like him or quite as insane.

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About Ampbreia

I'm an ex-Pentacostal, ex-Muslim, ecclectic Agnostic with slightly Wiccan leanings. I am not affiliated with any organized religion or political platform, but I do believe in magic and all things wise and wonderful. I work as an admin in a calibration lab. I've published 2 books so far this year: Lost in Foreign Passions: Love and betrayal, passion and loss in the heart of an alien land (a memoir of my time as a Muslimah and living in Iran for a year), written under my previous married name, Debra Kamza, and Dream Lover (a paranormal romance, the tale of witch that summons her favorite character out of a Bewitched spin-off and the actor who plays him as well). I'm constantly writing stories and poems, thoughts and dreams, and quite a few opinions - many of which are not popular but oh well. Bite me. I'm interested in art, animals, the paranormal, and people. I love to dance, all sorts, but have been studying belly dance since 2006 and LOVE it! I love anime too and love dressing up and going to conventions. My writing runs the gummut of historical, science fiction, fantasy, romance, and erotica. Beware: I may not be safe reading for work. Just saying....
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