There is a place I have been to many times, so much I can give you a firm layout. It's on a beach, and it's an open air bar. The framework is pale wood, like bamboo or pine. There are two or three bars and many twinkling lights; it's a very clean bar - not at all like any I've been to in the waking world. And always when I go, it's filled with people. There are a lot of people, as if there were some huge social function going on.
There is a deck that goes around the back of the bar, behind the enclosed part of the building. The deck can be reached from the open air parts, however. It overlooks the ocean, which is about an acre away. There are trees, too, so that you can see the waves crashing through the break. They twinkle deep blue in the moonlight sometimes.
Standing on the deck looking at the ocean, there is the beginnings of a boardwalk to your left. It's usually closed and locked, because no one is allowed to go down it. You can't reach the waves by walking across the yard, either. The yard is filled with deep roots and marsh. You'll get stuck trying to cross, especially in the dark. I know because that happened to me once.
I always want to go to that beach when I'm there, though. It's just where I prefer to be. You can tell it's a private beach. How peaceful it must be to walk on along that sand with the waves washing your toes.
But that is not where my dream journey began last night. No, it began in an apartment building on the second floor. The apartment I was in was empty and the walls were a pale yellow. There was a light brunette doctor there - maybe she's the one whose been with me since I came here to Louisiana. Maybe she dyed her hair. She had on her lab coat but did not hold her clipboard.
I was escorted into the room and stood with her near the center. There were a lot of other people there, but they were more background color to me. I was aware of them, I was aware of their movements. I didn't care to register them as more than "people in the room with me doing these things".
The doctor told me that the angels, both good and evil, had to come and convince me to choose between light and dark again. It was important for me to remember who I was. (Again with the remembering. As if it pays my bills or something.) She stepped back a few steps and the "angels" came at me.
As far as I was concerned, they were trying to kill me so as they came close I lashed out with my hands and killed them one by one. I was very methodical about it, and wasn't really there enough to remember more than the blood spraying everywhere.
After about twelve or so, the doctor told me that both Archangel Michael and Lucifer would approach me now. And from the wall before me a man did walk forward; a very very tall and skinny man with curly short brunette hair. As he approached I expected him to be the Archangel Michael but as he neared my psychic field I realized this was not the holy good person I should expect. He saw that my third eye was wide open and staring and he snorted derisively to himself, shaking his head a little - I realized that was actually a private reaction and I wasn't supposed to see it so I did not react.
As he got within two feet of me I became aware of a cloying scent about him. It wasn't anything I can place: not cologne, not decaying flesh, not fruit or meat or anything like that. It was actually confusing, this heavy musky scent that was just on the sweet side like a well made meat pudding. It was this scent that made me decide I had been approached by Lucifer - because demons, real demons, smell like death. But it was also confusing. I kept thinking he smelled like death, but I knew he didn't. I've smelled death. This was not the smell of death. It was a smell I knew, I just couldn't remember.
And I had a sense as if I was supposed to know him from previous times - I think this is the impression the doctor was trying to give me.
He took me to the bar, then. I can't remember the journey or what he said to me in the meantime, but I know things happened. My memory glosses over those part and skips to the bar, which was filled with people. I recognized every face I saw, held conversations with many people who always nodded cordially as if greeting me was expected. Some faces I thought I knew from jobs I held in the past, but these people weren't quite it. Most of them were young and Caucasian, although there was one brown woman with salon styled hair that held a conversation with me for a few minutes before taking her drink and moving on.
Lucifer came up to me after a while, just as I was turning to walk away from my spot and find something to do. We went to the deck out back to look at the waves, and he brought himself very close. He put his arms around me and bent down to bring me into an embrace. His nose nestled by my left ear.
I thought he was going to kiss me, and I was filled with a dark protective rage. With my right hand, I grabbed the top of his head and jerked him back by his hair. "I will kill you," I growled.
Patiently he let me do that and locked his brown eyes with mine. When he didn't move, I let him go. He talked to me in a matter-of-fact voice, but I just can't remember what he said. It was something about me remembering, about it being an innocent act, and some other things that suggested it had to be. I just can't remember, and it's frustrating. Whatever he said, I let him bend down again to wrap around me without moving.
He brought me into his chest then and pushed my head against him as if I were a small child. Surrounded by his arms and his scent, I realized how familiar this embrace was. "I remember this," I said. Trustingly I put my hands on his sides. I wasn't committing to a full embrace just yet, but the feeling of being back into this cocoon made me relax.
"Yes," he said. "And do you remember the feeling of my back against your hands?"
I place my hands fully on him then, with my right hand a little further onto his back. His back did feel familiar to me, and I said so.
We broke apart and he spoke with me, but now I can't remember. He wanted to live it up for the night. There was a party going on and it was our role to play it out. About two or three young women approached us, as if they were also there with Lucifer, and everyone started to get into the swing of things. I was forgotten for the moment, and that's when I noticed I was near the boardwalk's gate. I could see the waves in the distance.
For the first time, I decided I was going to that beach come hell or high water. And I jumped the gate. As I did so, I remember noticing for the first time that I was wearing a white cocktail dress. The cloth swirled over my legs as I easily jumped over - and my legs were thinner I also noticed. I was also shocked at how easy it was for me to do it. As if the gate weren't that tall or I was healthier.
I went down the boardwalk in the dark. In no time I was at that coveted beach. The waves moved in an out rather quickly, but it seemed natural to me. I remember as I got there, I bent to look at something in the sand. I looked back at the deck where I could see Lucifer and the others dancing. I wished they would join me - I guess because it would be nice to have someone share my interests.
On the waves were several dozen Cabbage Patch dolls, all moving in and out with the waves. They had been abandoned by their children, I knew, and my heart went out to them. I approached them.
There was on doll who was new. He had black curly hair. He approached me, but I can't remember what we talked about. I ended up holding him in my lap while I sang to the dolls. I told them how sorry I was, that they had been left behind. That I hoped their children would come back.
Then I put the doll down and started to take my walk.
When I woke up in bed after all that, my mind was filled with Lucifer's embrace and his cloying scent. And I have spent all day replaying the moment when I threatened his life - like an animal trainer with a frightened tiger, I realize he was. He handled me well.
My husband complained to me when he got up and someone had messed with his CPAP mask. That only happens to him when we go on a journey. I wonder what his was like.