A Dandelion's Fable

[Alyssa Ramius]

A Dandelion's Fable
Alyssa Ramius

_{*Please return, if found.
Room 405
207-486-2018
It would be wonderful karma.}

[Alyssa Ramius]

I called this journal ‘the dandelion’s fable’ as an allusion to the nickname I had in elementary school. I suppose that’s not too far off, probably because the color of my hair and the fact I was often in my own world more often than not. I would always see them along the sidewalks, staring into the sky and imagined they were just happy to see the sun every day.

Only as I grew and learned the ways people used their tones, their voices to bestow meaning did I realized that the nickname was not meant to be endearing. They’re weeds depending on who you talk to, especially to those who take care of gardens. It’s a shame, I liked dandelions.

So to others, I had always been this little weed that existed. I don't even know if that was the case. I suppose I should have seen the signs of where my life was leading to, woven into the background of the days before my abilities appeared. I should have seen, should have realized that I was always the outsider, no more than a small flower along the sidewalks.

I hold many hopes in my heart. I find the dandelion that had had become wisps from age, whisper my hopes to it and blow, leaving the wind to carry the seedling fluffs away. I know it’s a silly, even childish thing to do, but in a world that’s filled with uncertainty, it’s nice to pass on a little positive note in any small way. Where they go, where they land and begin they cycles of their lives again, I will never know.

But one can always wonder if a little hope could reach someone, anyone far away.

[Alyssa Ramius]

My ability is a strange one: to deprive myself and others of their senses. A lot of the times, it's very calming if the approach is not a place of worry. That's really hard to do - to approach that world without fear squeezing my heart. I'm always nervous, always being very careful not to anger or offend someone. It's draining, so much easier to hide away.

I don't know how to describe a world that fades away into a completely different world, stripped of the earthly stimuli. I have taken to discerning the world by splitting the two: there is reality where I am consistently grounded, and then the Visionary World, the place to retreat to. It's never the same exact place twice either, even if I am in only one room. It's always beautiful, with all sorts of figures and whispers and images that shift and change of their own volition.

That's why I must take care and tread carefully.
Otherwise, the visionary world becomes terrifying, twisting into images that haunt me long after. The mind is such a powerful place! Lacking senses forces the mind to create phantoms of stimuli to draw from. It was terrifying at the very beginning, but then it formed into something beautiful. It's a world I can see, that lingers long after I pull myself away.

And a world bleeding into reality too.
I need to let Vel know about that.

I think that's why I do admire those that have a talent, something that grounds one in reality and offers a release. They have this pleasant energy about them, very focused when they are in a zone. I can't help but be drawn to that, wishing I could emit such pleasant vibrations, maybe it would ease my thoughts?

Or maybe I should not. I'm simply the little weed, staring up to the sunlight. I would love to be comfortable in my own skin and to stand without being bogged down by the watchful eyes of my peers. Or stepped on, that happens a lot too.

To connect with others at this point, as much as I dream of the possibilities?

I'm just not sure anyone would want me close to them.

I should take up the violin again.

[Alyssa Ramius]

I have some recollection of where my fascination with the otherworldly, the metaphysical manifested. It was during the dark times, in the small lull between the constant slanderous whispers and the outright hostility I’d face. I don’t have a lot of good memories of those few years, a lot of it is clouded with a heavy, melancholic fog.

If it had not been for “Isa” and her kind presence, I think I would have been far worse off.

I learned a lot about mysticism from her. She looked the part, the pale odd girl that took to dressing in dark tones no matter the time of year. She had numerous chains with pentacles, quartz and mystical symbols that changed day by day, and her hair had the darkness and sheen of raven feathers. Her name wasn’t Isa either, but given the stares she would give to people who whispered the slander about us, the rune is fairly apt. She knew so much about mystical ways, it was always an experience to learn from her.

I accompanied her family on a trip to Salem one October. It was a gift to both her and I since our birthdays fell on the same month. That place had the most amazing energy, both from history, the autumn and treading close to Halloween. One of her aunts owned a shop in the historic district, near the House of Seven Gables. I was instantly drawn to the lush art and prevalence of blues and violets of a certain deck of tarot cards. It was so beautiful, ethereal that I had picked them up.

“It has chosen you, sweetie.” I remember her aunt saying with such awed warmth. That is the power of affinity, when there is a cosmic connection between an object and a person, that object will have much more potent power if affinity is present.

That deck I have to this day. It always remains at my desk in its pouch and protected by Skelly. It is still special to me; I still do readings from it from time to time when the muse strikes me to seek guidance. If others were to ask, I would love to do a reading…but I rather let them seek me instead. These days, my guidance has come from my worldly mentor Valentia, and it has been just as invaluable as the guidance from the universe.

I miss Isa, so much.
I wish I knew what had happened after the incident.
Or maybe it's better not to know. The truth will probably bring me to tears.

[Alyssa Ramius]

Sheltered. That would be a kind word to describe the life I led before.

I stayed indoors a lot compared to other children, with varying reasons. For one, I got sick easily as a child so my parents restricted how long I could be outside, and that was entirely dependent on the time of year too. The allergies, the allergies were the worst; the congestion could be unbearable during the most beautiful times of the year, especially when the flowers bloomed. Cleanliness was a must and my mother always made sure I had a small kit in my backpack: an inhaler, allergy medication and hand sanitizer. I ended up being extra careful around any peers that happened to be sick, knowing well that if I fell ill, I would be out for weeks. I couldn't play any sports and gym was always hell on me; I always felt nauseated or felt that I could not breathe. Doctor visits were numerous that I no longer fear needles.

Being that I appeared so fragile, my parents were very watchful of me. My curfew was right at the cusp of sunset, one never speaks to strangers or wander away from groups on field trips. I only knew so few people, the ones that my parents have met and approved. Otherwise, I come straight home from school. I wasn’t allowed on outings unless there was a certainty of a responsible adult to be on guard. Something as simple as going to a sleepover was always an ordeal that I gave up on the idea altogether. It felt easier to simply be in my room, curled with a book rather than draining myself in the chaos of a party.

I understood the reasoning for my parents to be so careful with me. Still, I would always find myself staring out my bedroom window, watching the other children play and wishing that I was simply normal enough to join them. If only my immune system would just buck up just so I can play out in the sunshine like everyone else.

More signs I could not have perceived of the eventual truth.

In my time in Hammel, I cannot recall the last time I was really sick apart from sporadic allergies at springtime. I’m thankful for that. It feels good to take a breath and run without collapsing. It’s still a little difficult to talk, to connect with people, but at least I can enjoy the sunshine and the beauty nature has to offer.

[Alyssa Ramius]

The other world, the Visionary World. I'd like to name it something more apt, but suppose it will do for now.

That world is the subversive world, closely connected to reality but it completely apart from it. It cannot be seen with normal sensibilities, there has to be a disconnect from reality. From what I have gathered from a lot of research and experiences, it is reachable through very few means that do not skirt the line of death. Some say it is the true world of the gods.

It is a gorgeous world that never remains static. It can mirror this world but it doesn't adhere to the same rules. Colors pulses, melds and shifts of their own accord. Light and darkness strive for dominance but sometimes they join together and have tea. Sometimes, I have witnessed the very strings that hold the universe together, delicate as gossamer but seemingly unbreakable. The world changes at its own whim.

And reality is the slow path, with changes are slight day by day. It is a field of wildflowers that open at their own pace, but becomes beautiful and poignant field once they are all opened. It is the seasons that cycle every year, but never fails to awe when trees are in spring bloom or when autumn sets the trees aflame with color to call end to the summer. Connections are slower to find and hold on to but they are not as fleeting.

Both worlds have their places in my life.
I am fortunate to be able to see them both, sometimes.

[Alyssa Ramius]

Love is so important.

There are so many types of love that exist, it’s a component that every human seeks. I see it across campus, in my favorite shows, sometimes it comes up on the dashboard of my tumblr in images that strike the right chords in my heart.

Love is love, no matter the person you love.
Love is love, no matter the differences. That’s the truth.
My father and mother are proof of that, despite how certain sections of the family feels about it. I exist because of that love.

I gush over these things a lot, the romance movies and manga, or the connections in my life that are fortunate to know such feelings. It’s fun and I’m always happy for them, happy to gush and lend my support to them. That said, I don’t know if I will ever know that kind of happy feeling. It’s not that I do not deserve it or even that I don’t want it. I’ve had a few crushes here and there in my time at Hammel, but they just have not panned out for the better. I face my reflection in a mirror and wonder if someone really could look at me and feel love for me. I’m so awkward, I’m frustrating on many occasions when I cannot make up my mind, I worry and fear so much, and I have problems merely speaking to others. I like weird things like mysticism, cemeteries and creepy cute things. My ability is no help, would I annoy them if I accidentally zap a sense or two from them? Am I really worth loving?

Everyone has someone just for them; there are so many people in the world for that not to be the absolute truth. But I also know well that sometimes, there are people that do not know love but seek something purely carnal. There are others around me, as the recent Talk demonstrated pretty well, that many seek simply carnality. I suppose that’s well and good, just I cannot see myself seeking that alone. I’m just not sure if I will find that person that I could connect with on a level beyond the physical. I want to be able to feel the very warm and wonderful connection to another person: mind, body, and soul.

Is it that impossible, a dream? I will hope for one day, I will know what that feels like to be in love, to know that connection with another person. To be with someone and feel that fluctuation of my heart beat, or to linger in that moment where a fleeting glance becomes lingering for a moment longer than others, or to know the electric burst when touched. When someone could love me despite all that is wrong with me. Honestly, I don’t know what I would even do if someone could whisper sweet things in my ear or dare kiss me.

It sounds wonderful though.

Impossibly wonderful.

[Alyssa Ramius]

He is appearing in my nightmares again.
It has not been so long ago since that happened.
I am unable to forget that surge of anger when he found out.
I am unable to forget the twisted expression on his face, my inability move, not even realizing what had happened and what had been done.
I wake up sometimes terrified, certain that the scar on my back had opened up again and feeling the warmth of blood soaking my bedsheets.
It's such a stupid thing to worry over. It has since healed over but I am aware of its presence. I hate to look at that ugliness whenever I change clothes, because I still remember...

I look out my window when I wake from the nightmares, certain he would be lurking, waiting. I look over my shoulder in the daylight, hoping that there never is a time I will see his face.
That's an irrational thought, I know.
He cannot reach me here.

I hope he can't.

[Alyssa Ramius]

If I had to choose either rain or snow, it would be the latter.
It's not that I'm not a gloomy person. I like the days of sunshine when it doesn't make me sneeze and reddens my eyes. There is a calmness to steady rainfall, it's easy to fall asleep too as long as there isn't lightning and thunder to startle me awake. Snow doesn't have that element, it falls quietly and peacefully from the sky. It melts away at the slightest warmth, such literal impermanence.
I like how it gives everything it touches the appearance of frosted sugar.
I don't even mind if it's cold. Best excuse to find a blanket and warm up with cider or tea after.
For the longest time, however, I often had to watch from the windows when other children in my neighborhood played in the snow. Call it bad luck or the annoyance of having a terrible immune system, I always fell really ill on those days when snow blankets the town. They'd make snowmen and have wars with each other behind crude forts.

I always thought that it looked so much fun.

[Alyssa Ramius]

I feel like I’m far away from everything and everyone sometimes. It's a constant thread lying beneath the surface of my mind and heart: the outsider looking in the window while everyone joins hands, while everyone laughs by a warm fire and simply connects.

And yet, surely, I brought that loneliness on myself.
I just wanted to protect myself from getting hurt.
To protect others from harm, from what I am able to do.
So much now that I feel like I am simply a ghost.
That is my reason for trying to become "stable".
Maybe if I do, I can hold someone's hand without worrying if my ability will act and scare them away.

And then a part of me is telling me I am overreacting.
Or that I'm simply not meant to connect.
Or that I am lying to myself.
No matter how I try to reach out, no one will take my hand.
Or that he was right all along.
Or that I'm beating myself down harder than I should.

I need to breathe.
This isn't me.
I will keep trying, until my hopes finally burn away.

[Alyssa Ramius]

It had appeared in my wonderland not too ago; an exquisite flame carved out of opaque glass. Whenever I find my center in the Visionary World, it would glimmer in the darkness, watchful of my presence. I never looked straight at it, only casting a side glance of two. I couldn't tell what it was, what it wanted even. Such an odd thought to think of an object, but that was filled my waking thoughts. As beautiful as it was, I feared if I looked at it, it would retaliate, it would slice me if I ever tried to reach out to touch it.

I remember now. It was after the incident.
I recalled when I first gained the courage to stare at it, a moment of anger and frustration sweeping over me. I shouted into the darkness, knowing it was right there to hear me.
Why exist there?
Look away already!
I don't need you!
I don't need anyone.
Don't you get it by now?
I am not needed...
I am not worth a presence.
Just stop.

And I looked up after releasing the dam of my thoughts, expecting the glass flame to grant my wish and finally melt into the darkness of my mind. Instead, a flicker had caught my eye. Whatever frustrations I had falls away from me.
Without realizing it, I had stepped close, and closer to it, uncertain of what I was looking at. I had never seen that flicker before, ever.
Or maybe, now that I can look back on it...I just never looked at it long enough to notice.

To my surprise, the truth was what I thought was a glass flame, a touch made it clear that it was a frozen flame: ice carved into a shape of a flame, but a real flame flickered at its core, yet never melting. It's a wonderous and beautiful presence, now that I allowed myself to look without fear.
There's still a lot I don't know about that that object in my dreams. I don't know how it works, but one day, I hope to be able to speak to it, what stories it has to offer.
Maybe someday.

For now, I am content with merely co-existing. It calms me even now, whenever I seek my center in the darkness of my own mind or create a scene to concentrate where my mind goes, I'm always happy to see its gentle flicker.

A beacon in the dark.