I’ve been hallucinating snakes again.
Many of you know that I have an intense phobia of snakes. Just a simple image of them is enough to send me into a full-blown panic attack. There are times, though, when the images manifest themselves, another of the overlays that my mind and my life like producing, like when I “see” my gods. I can be walking, look down, and see a snake nearby – blink and it’s gone. It was never really there to begin with.
The snakes appear when my life is beginning to turn, like the wide wheel of a mill. I lay there, strapped to its side, and wait for my head to be plunged under the water once more. It’s cyclical, like clockwork, like the turning of the seasons. Every few years, the snakes appear, their lithe bodies of smoke and silence taunting me just before the wheel slips me under again.
Back in August, I made a commitment to Kemeticism. For one year, I would study it and learn about the religion that, for once, seemed to appeal to me and my lifestyle. These days, though….
These days, I find myself turning away from the desert. I walk back towards the mountains and the trees, finding more solace in their beauty than the aridity of the desert. The taste of Kemeticism on my tongue, once beautiful and fine, like they always told me wine would taste, has turned acrid and bitter, like how wine really feels on my tongue. It is sour and anger, all wrapped up and burning down my throat and back, like bile rising. And I cannot help but wonder if I misinterpreted the signs.
It is possible. We mortals are fallible and the gods work in mysterious ways. I will not break my word, though. I will still learn what I can of Kemeticism, just in smaller doses than I had planned. But I will not force myself to adhere to that desert walk when the trees call me back, when the snakes begin to show, warning me of the water drop in my near future.