There was no soft snow falling this time to crunch under the feet as I walked towards the pretty cabin tucked in the woods. But there was us, two silly girl bellies full of coffee and bad diner food, with tongues wagging and brains dripping effervescent incantations of our past and future selves. The cabin waited with its pretty chimney spire rising into the crisp star filled night and we descended giggling into the warm bosom of it.
She was Psyche, embodiment of reflection. Look here and find the answers to who you truly are; open your mind and your heart. Your heart that controls your mind, your love that is who you are; she sits before me dressed in warm colors with her legs laced up and her lips pursed and she smiles at me and I smile back.
We smear lotion on each other, covering our hands in it to fight the dryness. We pour libations into cups and I set tones of music swaying in front of the ancient log trap. The music sways us as we share sickly sweet cigarettes between us on occasions, filling each other with smoke, and magick, and breath licked by fire.
“I’m afraid of too much permanence.”
“I’m comfortable with permanence.”
“Let me put them on you.”
“They won’t fit.”
“Just relax and give me your foot.”
I complain as I hand her my foot and she rolls up my jeans, pulling off her long shoes and slipping them over my toes.
“The soul fits.”
“Yes, but the rest will be too small.”
“Stop fighting and let me do it.”
I give into her careful hands and let her wrap my legs with laces.
“You can make them tighter. I like that.”
We sit together like misplaced twins each with a foot bound up high and tight in black knee high boot. We giggle and enjoy what we have created. We drink and laugh and let the night fill us. We miss each other.
“Let’s get naked and go to bed.”
It was late in the evening at that point. We had talked our past to death and speculated on our future more than once. In some distant future we will move in together and make each other pregnant on the wonder and life of the world and our children who are the daughters of the earth will play together and wrap our hair in flowers and the grandchildren will laugh at us old ladies who are wedded to air and water, and will tell stories of the magick dripping from the ends of our graying hair, as we sit and giggle and watch them play still school girls in spirit if not in flesh. We become crones together and it does not phase us.
“Good idea.” Says the ancient fleshed girl with tight skin and slender body, her turning towards the fairy circle that encases her bower. We each take our turns undressing and sliding under covers. In the cool crisp night, with nipples erect and prodding at each other as we wrap together and press close for warmth under the downy comforter.
“Your place makes strange noises,” I whisper into the soft flesh where her arm joins her body, my mouth close to her sweet smelling skin.
“I don’t notice that it does anymore. Sometimes the raccoons play on the roof over my head and that might wake me up.”
We are warm creatures and wrapped around each other we fall slowly into sleep, as our hearts race pressed so close and our tangles weave one way or the other, tangle and untangles, flesh pressed close in different ways at different times. The heat comes from something deeper, we make love in our dreams to old friends, our minds filled alternately with love, and life, and care for those who are not filling our bed this night. I think in our perfect world the two of us would have a bed big enough to fit thirty people, all of them in love with themselves, with each other, and with us, we would have an orgy every night and fill each other with a thousand different kinds of love as we kept everyone safe from the all the evils that nip constantly.
The night is filled with warm thought, caress, heartbeat and scent, soft touches, and dreams and kisses.
“What time is it?”
“Late, we’ve overslept. I think we have to get out of bed.”
“One of us is going to have to make the first move.”
The sun shines prettily through the cottage windows and the little forest the surrounds this place in the middle of the city. Dry leaves crunch underfoot as we walk arm in arm down the streets towards the train station, stopping only to make love to each other on the sidewalks as we continue to consider a perfect future and how to make it come about.
We leave with kisses and I miss her while her lips are still pressed warm on mine. This is always the way it is when you explore the Psyche. It fills you up with answers, makes new questions, and leaves you constantly wanting more.