always find your way back home (the universe will listen)
Right now, you're certain if you had to narrate yourself as a living being then the people reading it would think of your life as dull. Simple. Plain, even. Nothing exciting.
And secretly, deep down to your toes, a teeny-tiny part of you is afraid that people will find you boring. However, a large part of you does not fret. They can think whatever they like, you know not everyone has ill intentions. You've met the loveliest people and you've come to terms that, as humans, we all have flaws – the good and the bad.
Because, at the end of the day, you've always liked people. You've found them fascinating. You enjoy talking to different crowds, you enjoy watching acts of kindness; strangers opening doors for other strangers, the young helping the elderly, parents cooing at their babies. You like reading why people feel and why they act the way they do – so much that you think, you may just devote your whole life trying to understand the human mind better.
Despite that, you've never really related to people all that much. You think you've read somewhere that it's because no one person is alike, and because of this cosmic size in difference, no one can truly connect with one another. At least, not one hundred per cent.
But, you've also thought that maybe, you've never really related to anyone because you've always been the sensitive kind. You've never liked reading the newspapers, the tabloids make you sad; the brutality towards the environment, the problems with money and debt, the hostile treatment towards other humans for the colour of their skin and their beliefs and the things they like.
Hmm, this might be an interesting fact about you: your odd relationship with others. That, and your love for songs that centre around 'home' and –
"Hello?" You say to no one in particular. You are simply talking aloud, it's fun, it helps you get your ideas and thoughts across. You could never think quietly.
You are in your backyard, lying on an old picnic blanket as you watch the planets and the constellations. It's a surprisingly breezy Summer night, cool enough to make you consider falling asleep under the stars.
There have been times where you stare at the vast sky and think, Is anyone out there?
– the fact that you've always admired space and the galaxy like thousands who are living and have come before you. The Romans named their Gods after the planets – Mercury, Mars, Jupiter. Even the Egyptians titled their Pharaoh 'the morning and evening star' (in other words, 'Venus'). And, a few years back when NASA had announced that Pluto was no longer a planet, you were sadden.
Yes, above everything else, you feel connected to the universe, even if it doesn't care for you as much as you care for it.
"Hello? Hello, hello?" You say softly like a chant, like a spell.
Your hand stretches over the picnic blanket, feeling the grass between your fingers. You do not subconsciously pluck it as most people do. You value the life of the grass and the soil, and you think Mother Earth would frown upon you, even if others may think it's something small. To you, it's huge. To you, it's a stop sign in progress and growth. To you, it is significant.
And as you continue watching the moon and the stars, your eyelids grow heavy. You can feel your breathing steady and yourself drift. And just as you have one foot in sleep, you hear a voice that sounds excited, speaking in tongues. It sounds familiar, but you cannot be put into words. It feels right for the heart; like music without any lyrics or a language based on emotion –
Firelessina firelessina firelessina!
– what on earth?
And then, you turn to see a girl. Her skin is so pale that it may have been translucent, like glass, reflecting on her background; her hair is both long and short. She is dressed in clothes that feel like they are made just for her; she is truly in her own skin, and you feel this pull, this longing to belong just like her.
"Hello," She says, greeting you like an old friend.
You stare, frozen yet also in awe. The question 'Who are you?' mounts itself on your tongue but you swallow it down. You don't move. You don't speak. She only smiles.
The next question that rises up your throat is 'What are you?' but, like before, you hold your tongue despite your curiosity. She didn't look like an alien. But, in a way, she also did. She shared the familiarity of something otherworldly. A being that cannot be described – like faes and God. And the last thing you want is to be rude such a being.
"Are you awake or are you sleeping?" She asks.
"I …" You start to say. You know you're conscious, but everything also feels surreal. You look around and consider hiding somewhere, wedged in a corner or behind furniture, but the room is empty. Just a vast emptiness that feels like it can fit everything and anything. Yet, it only occupies the two of you. "I don't know."
"Are you afraid?"
Your eyebrows knit together. There should be alarm bells ringing in your head. There should be a sinking unpleasantness in the pit of your stomach – because, wasn't there a saying 'stranger danger'? Yes, that's it – and yet, you are feeling nothing but calm.
"I don't know." You repeat yourself.
"We have been waiting for this meeting." The being says.
We? You think. Who is this 'we'? You do not see anyone else with her. Is she referring to many others like her? Or herself?
"You've been waiting to meet me?" You ask back, doubtful they've got the right person.
"Oh, Superman." She says, addressing you like she can sense you back-peddling.
You wonder if you're dreaming all of this in your sleep. And then you think – no. No, you're not Superman. You can't be. Because you've never felt like Superman. You've never felt strong enough, brave enough, kind enough. You've just felt out of place.
"Wh – Well, we've met." You reply because you don't know what else to say or do. "What do you want from me?"
"We have come here for you and we're coming in peace. Mothership will take you on higher." The girl says, but her voice sounds like many versions of herself. The 'we' she was talking about. "This world you live in is not a place for someone like you. Come on, let us take you home."
Home – the word hits you, twisting your gut.
"Home?" You mutter. "I – I don't understand." You say. "I'm ordinary. I'm nothing special."
She – they? – starts frowning.
"I mean," You shutter. "There must be someone better than me, right? Someone else you can take?"
It's not that you're unwilling to go, it's like you said, your life is pretty grey. It's simple. And though you enjoy an average life, nobody wants a normal life. Everyone wants some excitement and those who say otherwise aren't telling the truth. It's not that you're unwilling to sacrifice a few things either, though you know you will miss things greatly – like the sound of the ocean and the feeling of grass under bare feet and sunlight on your skin. And, it's not that you're denying the possibility of wanting to go. The end result is, you just don't think you deserve this opportunity.
With a cock of the head, you're given the reply of "I see you are infected."
You almost sigh in relief that she's admitting you cannot go. But then –
"Come as you are." They say, which you roughly translate to 'I am proud you are able to recognise these weaknesses. It is true, you have your flaws and errors, but that does not matter because you are still enough.'
"Don't be scared of us, you'll be protected."
"But, why me?" You ask.
They smile, "I guess you are a different kind of human."
"But –" You stutter. "But –"
"There is a flaw in man-made matters, but you are pure and we have to get you out of here. It's time to go."
You think you still need convincing. You think, This cannot be happening. But then arms are lifted and a head tilts towards the heavens, eyes closed, and you hear chanting – they are words that cannot be written on paper but words in the air – it's warm, like people cheering at a stadium, like family welcoming a relative at the airport, like old friends saying 'hello'. The being move along with the sound like they can feel the words.
Omega hai foleet,
Omega hai foleet,
Omega for let in,
Omega hai foleet,
Omega hai foleet,
Omega for let in!
You are reminded of a faraway thought, Is anyone out there?
And suddenly, you think, Am I home?
Notes: Aurora playlist –
A different kind of human
Infections of a different kind
– 9 June 2019