Life before existance

I may be going back too far with these regressions. For one, I keep having a hard time visualizing the white light. All I get is a field of empty space with distant specks of many faint colors. I tried to visualize the bridge, but the only image that popped up was a bridge in San Diego that I walked across in 2021 on my family reunion vacation, where I was walking alone on a mission to find a piece for the guitar my mom had given me. It was a long bridge of cement that spanned the inlet to Mission Bay.

Once on the other side of the bridge, I was told to imagine a blue mist. I couldn't really imagine that. I was back in the field of empty space with the distant faint spots of light. I was asked to imagine my home, and nothing appeared. Just empty, vast space. I saw the beginnings of a purple mist, with little tendrils of energy swirling and reaching out.

I was asked what I was doing. "Trying to multiply," was my response. The mist looked like smoke, tiny particles forming wisps that grew brighter the denser they got. They kept dissipating, though, never forming any solid image. 

I was asked to visualize my home and asked about people. There were never any people. Only for the briefest of moments did I get an image of a dense forest. Kind of a tunnel made of trees and foliage. There was a faint light seeping through the canopy. The colors of the tree tunnel were deep forest and emerald greens, with browns for the branches. "Tree dwellers," was my response when asked about people in my life, although I never actually saw any of them.

Then I was back in space again, nothing solid. No people or other consciousnesses. Just me and this vast emptiness and the purple mist. I was the purple mist and the emptiness. There was nothing else remotely close. I'm not sure what the flecks of light in the distance were, if they were other consciousnesses or just another aspect of my seemingly infinite space body. I couldn't really separate myself from my environment.

When I was asked to imagine the day before my death, I saw a flash of light streaking across the empty space, like a meteor or something. It was heading toward a dark, solid mass. I think it was Earth or some other formless planet. The light struck the dark object, and a mountain started to form. It was a solid rock mountain made up of granite or some kind of dense white rock. I was the mountain. I was happy because I had finally achieved physical form. 

I was asked about my lessons, things I'd learned from this life. I guess it was that physical life is difficult to manifest. It takes a lot of energy to make the purple mist turn into a complex cellular being. I couldn't do it. All I could manage was a rock. I was glad enough for that achievement, I guess.

My biggest regret was still that I was alone throughout all of this. I was the source of all that I could perceive, and as such, there was nothing to interact with. I wanted to be something and relate to something else. All that existed was me, in the form of this shapeless, shifting purple mist, this energy mass. It kept wanting to reach out, to form things, but it couldn't. It was mostly frustrating and a little bit sad.

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I'm back in my body, back in my bed in Loma Rica. It is Saturday, and I have a DBSA walk scheduled for later today. Denise wanted to get together this weekend, but I told her I wasn't up for a visit. I've had a sore throat, and I just don't feel great. I still want to go for this walk, however, to interact with the people from group. I may still go, since I don't seem to have a sore throat this morning.

I have mixed feelings about inviting Denise there. She's been wanting to be a part of my life, to go to functions with me. Like my high school reunion, for example. I feel like I want to have some areas of separation. Some things where I am just me, not a part of a couple. I feel guilty about this, like I'm not being honest with her. I don't like the idea of being her boyfriend. I'm just not comfortable using that word or having to face those expectations. 

Now I'm feeling like my dad, and as much as I don't want to admit it, I'm pretty much like him in this respect. I'm all about me, and others only inasmuch as they can feed or stroke my ego. True empathy, love and the like elude me, just like the white light. I'm shallow and selfish, and I've come to accept that about myself. I'm a scoundrel at heart. Just rotten. A fox, a crocodile, a spider, a rock, nothingness. A big, sucking emptiness wanting to be filled but recoiling when interaction requires commitment. Easier to just remain alone in my empty space.

I don't know if I really even want to go to this reunion. It is in June. I won't have finished with my dental implant procedure by then. I'll still be this missing tooth guy. That's no biggie. I've been that guy for seven plus years now. It's just that I only know a couple of people from my senior class, and none of them have kept up with me post-Facebook. 

I don't have anything to prove and nothing that I'm proud to show off, other than that I am alive, I guess. My story is too sad and convoluted for a social event like this. I could go and just reminisce about the past, but really, I only knew a few of those people, and we weren't all that close. Most of my friends were from outside my school, or were a year ahead or behind me.

Today is Saturday, and if I don't go to the DBSA walk, I have a regularly scheduled standing ritual to perform. Music, caffeine and cannabis. Simple hedonistic religion, really. A day of self-indulgence. But like the purple mist, it does get lonely. All the music and practicing of songs feels like it is meant to be shared. 

I'm happy in my little energy bubble, but I'm scheming towards grander things. But these things are so much more difficult than living in my imagination. They seem to require many, many little baby steps, and I want to emerge from my egg fully formed, rather than some little duckling that can barely quack. 

And this is the quality of writing you get from me when I don't go back to sleep after one of my many nighttime bouts of insomnia. I put on the past life regression MP3 and was asked to write down my impressions. I have done so. Good night, or good morning, as the case may be.