WALKING WITH ANGELS

I'm drifting off into a land I've only seen in books and magazines, on poster boards and travel brochures. Into the slumber I'm now drifting into, I enter in a strange and beautiful place I never want to leave.

I enter a long narrow alley way, somewhere foreign to me, that's entrancing and melodic. I hear voices in my head, guiding me where to go, and so I keep walking into quaint narrow alley ways that seem as if I had once lived there long ago in another time. The voices are singing to me, almost with a sacred tone to it, and I keep on walking. They are guiding my every step.

There in the far distance where there are many door ways, I see a man with dark hair, a handsome man who is trying to seduce me. For whatever the strange reason may be, I resist him. I walk forward, only to see the same man again in other doorways, asking me why I don't want to be with him. I tell I do, but that I can't. And so I keep on walking, and I keep hearing these beautiful almost angelic like voices singing in my head, a sound like no other sound I have ever heard. It's so calming, so reassuring, so real and true, like a loving mother giving you the love and security you can bet your life on.

So what is this? Where am I? I now see an elderly man with a Venetian style hat on, and he's an artist. I see him at his doorway, and he invites me in to see his art work. I go inside, and I see these beautiful works of art, skillfully done, that only a master could have accomplished. I tell him I am very taken back by his work, and I see nudes in beautiful colors on easles, almost like a cross between a fusion of charcoal and oil. They are truly magnificent. He asks me to pose for him but I decline. He then takes me in to show me the other part of his home, a parlor, and it's like an Italian villa, but smaller, yet just as spectacular with a quaint and bohemian style. I love this place, a place I would like to live in, but I know I must leave and return to my walk.

I see other doorways, and ruins only European countries have, and I wish I could stay here. Within me, I know I would have to leave, something I don't want to do. It's like a journey, a mission that I'm to be on, and so my walk continues. Just a slight bit ahead, there's a restaurant, and people are in inside, talking, drinking some wine in simple but pretty glasses, toasting good cheers to each other, and feeling very good with each other. It's a strange thing, as not many people are eating. They are consumed with talking with each other and clinging their glasses together. When they see me, some hold their glass up to me, and ask me if I would like some wine. I have some, then I hold up my glass of wine and toast with them.

I am walking out, thanking them. I see the handsome man again, asking me why I don't like him. I tell him I do like him, but I have to continue my walk. He tells me he will meet me further up, and I agree. As clear and vivid as it all is, it has a smoky and unclear view. I can see, yet I can't see their faces that clearly, and knowing that something as wonderful as this will have a sad ending.

My walk continues, feeling this is real. If I play my cards right, I can stay right where I am, and I won't have to leave after all. I can now feel the air that is clean and brisk. I feel I am walking home, looking for my door, and being greeted by my husband, the handsome man with the dark hair. I reach out and again my hands are gliding across the brick that lines the walls in this mysterious new home of mine. But where is my door? How do I find my home? Then I see the number 9 on a door and I walk in.