Dark Visions

3: A Gathering of Souls

My heart ached at the man's story of loss, sorrow and peculiar happenings. The logical part of me worried that Blamore was in need of intense psychiatric healing, while the intuitive part of me was set on providing some insight that could help him rediscover "his home."

The words were still whirling around in my mind ever since they escaped his lips: "I see the past. You see the future."

Glancing around the vacant shop for a sign of what to do, the jade and amethyst crystals on my altar caught my eye. "Here, let's have a seat." I urged our mysterious guest to get comfortable.

He towered over me by about six inches, at roughly six-foot-two. His dark colored hair and lack of wrinkles around his eyes told me we were similar in age but the dirt and random blemishes on his face made him appear ten years older or close to his forties. His bulk appeared to be mostly muscle as seen through the rips and tears of his tattered shirt and pants. The sorrow in his eyes and his sudden calm demeanor made him seem less like a depraved madman, as I had interpreted in my visions, and more of a lost and gentle giant.

Following my gesture, he sat at the small, round table. The look on his face as his eyes glossed over the various decks of tarot and oracle cards revealed his unease. "What's this?"

"I'm going to do a reading to see what information I can gather." I sat in the chair across from him and picked up a deck of cards. As he increasingly became more accustomed to the environment, I slowly let my guard down. "Cecil, would you mind getting us all a drink of water?"

"You sure about this?" She gave me the side-eye and gripped her phone tighter.

I nodded and flashed a forced smile. "Let's see if there is anything I can do to help."

With that, Cecil pocketed her phone, flipped the sign on the door to closed and engaged the lock. "We have some water bottles in the back. Give me a sec."

As Cecil disappeared from view, Blamore slumped down in his seat as if exhausted. "I'm not going back. Back to that ... house. It's not my home. She's not my wife. Four weeks." He lifted four grimy fingers. "Four weeks I stay gone."

"Where are you staying if not at home?"

"Not home," he sighed, gulping down his pain. "It's not home."

Upon shuffling the cards, a sense of loneliness and isolation swept over me. I tuned into the energy.

The streets are busy with people and traffic, but many people refuse to look my way. And those who do, offer half-eaten food, nearly-empty bottles of water, or looks of disgust. "Get a job," echoes throughout my head. "This is where the rancid smell is coming from," rings in my ears. Dark alleys, park benches, a freeway underpass... Cold, uncomfortable, and lonely.

I successfully suppressed a look of pity and focused on the cards. After inhaling and exhaling three times to clear away my thoughts and to center myself, I envisioned a bright, white circle of light surrounding me in a potent energy as I became grounded. I set my intention to help Blamore find comfort and answers.