When I awoke the next morning, I could almost taste the stale smoke that permeated my clothes. As I opened my eyes and saw the pointed peak of the canvas tipi, it took me a moment to remember where I was and what I’d been doing. After I reclaimed my faculties, I rolled over, expecting to find Robert and Puppy Don, but they were nowhere to be seen. There were several blankets and items of clothing strewn across the dirt floor, and the center pit was no longer smoldering from the previous night’s fire.
I emerged from the tipi and called out to my friends, but they were obviously long gone. After the muted light inside of the tipi, the sun nearly blinded me when I was outside. The light seemed to scream at me, and I covered my eyes for a few seconds until they adjusted. When I was able to focus, all of the colors seemed much brighter and all the sounds were much louder. It was as if the volume on everything was turned up, and I could see and hear clearly for the first time in my life. I spun around in place and was taken by the beauty of the valley I was in. The dried grasses became beautiful golden strands bending in the breeze, and the mountains were proud protectors of the valley below. It was as if I were seeing pure beauty for the first time in my life, and it was alive. The energy of beauty emanated from every living thing around me, and I was in awe.
Then almost immediately I imagined it all disappearing into nothingness. My heart sank as I realized that Cheryl was gone forever, and I dropped to my knees and began to sob. I couldn’t control my emotions, and I kept moving from extreme elation to deep sadness from one minute to the next. I could feel my emotions much more deeply than I ever had before, and since I hadn’t previously let go of Cheryl, her death seemed to hit me all at once.
I entered the tipi one last time to gather my overshirt and make sure I hadn’t left anything behind, and then followed the lightly worn path across the grassy fields toward town. When I first saw houses, mailboxes, and cars again, it was a shock—I was surprised by how quickly I’d become used to being surrounded by nothing but nature.
As I walked toward town, I reflected on what had happened the day before and traced the edges of the hole I had felt in my soul. I was pleased to discover that it was mostly filled in. The piece of me that had previously been dead was now very much alive and adjusting to the outside world, but was still quite sensitive and fragile.
I hadn’t had anything to eat since the previous morning and decided to stop by my favorite sandwich place once I arrived back in town. When I entered the restaurant, the contrast to the outdoors was quite dramatic—not only in the lighting and the smells, but in the feeling. When I was outside, it felt light and airy; but once inside, I felt a muddled energy that weighed on my heart. It also didn’t help that every square inch of the walls was covered floor to ceiling with framed black-and-white photos and wicker-basket sculptures of everything from farm animals to airplanes. The cluttered wall coverings made me feel claustrophobic compared to the simple canvas walls of the tipi, and I probably would have left if I hadn’t been so hungry.
I found an available table at the front of the restaurant and placed my order with the short, tattooed waitress with a raspy voice. She wore her dyed red hair in a makeshift bun, and her clumpy mascara implied a late night out that she still hadn’t recovered from. While I was waiting for the food to arrive, I could feel a huge dark cloud coming from the back kitchen that slowly began to fill the entire restaurant. And as I was sitting on the black vinyl seat, I discovered that I could feel the emotions of each person there simply by being open to them. It was as if everyone’s true feelings flowed to me like the ocean tides, and as the waves broke, I could sense their emotions as if they were my own. And although it was entertaining at first, most people in the restaurant weren’t very happy, so I tried to ignore everyone as best I could.
When my food finally arrived, I was surprised to discover that there was also energy emanating from the sandwich on the plate. It was nearly identical to the dark cloud I felt coming from the back kitchen, and I became quite agitated when I picked the sandwich up. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me, but I knew that I was hungry and had to eat. I decided to put the sandwich down, and bit into one of the cut carrots garnishing the plate. They were still fresh, and I could feel the life force entwine with mine as I chewed, swallowed, and felt it make its way down my throat. The pieces of carrot were definitely satisfying, but unfortunately there were only three. All that was left after I ate them was the turkey-and-Swiss I had ordered, and when I picked it up, I again felt the dark energy begin to agitate me. The sandwich looked great, but when I bit into it, I almost choked. I felt as if I’d consumed someone else’s anger with that first bite, and it was toxic to me.
I couldn’t help myself from spitting the mouthful onto the plate, and I rubbed my eyes while trying to figure out what was happening to me. My stomach was threatening to empty, and my head was swirling as if I were going to pass out. I pushed the plate to the opposite end of the table, which helped a bit, but I was still quite dizzy. I had completely lost my appetite and didn’t want to remain there any longer. And as I looked around the restaurant, I could sense that the energy from all the patrons was becoming even darker than it had been before. It was as if they’d all come there to consume the chef’s anger and were filling themselves up with it, whether they wanted to or not.
I clumsily tossed some crumpled bills on the table and quickly left the restaurant. Outside, I gradually felt much better as the wave of nausea began to dissipate in the fresh air. Something about the soul retrieval had made me ultrasensitive to other people’s energy, and I was surprised by how profound the sensitivity was. I was also genuinely upset about the horrible experience I’d had in the restaurant. Letting the chef transfer his bad energy into the food of others was inexcusable. According to the sign on the door, the restaurant prided itself on using only the freshest organic ingredients, but the food was completely ruined by the chef’s mood.
I decided to take it easy and relax for the rest of the day. I made my way to the entrance of Lithia Park and strolled through the initial lawn adjacent to downtown. I’d been there a few times before, but it was like I was seeing everything for the first time. Throughout the park, exotic plants were labeled with brass name tags, and the paths were groomed with a luxurious layer of wood chips that felt soft to the feet. And the babbling creek flowed through the park, carrying its soothing sounds over the pebbled banks.
The park was unusually tranquil, and I spent the rest of the day exploring—lazing in different corners, determined to find the ideal spot. Just above the upper duck pond I finally found a warm patch of grass by the creek that seemed to have my name on it. Lying down on nature’s green blanket, I felt a gentle breeze caress my face while I listened to the peaceful water sounds of the creek flowing nearby. For the first time since my childhood, I fell asleep under the clouds and drifted in and out of consciousness for what seemed to be hours. I was still deeply saddened by the memory of Cheryl, but the natural beauty of the park was rejuvenating, and I felt purified as the afternoon progressed.
As the sun went down, I made my way back to the Co-op to pick up some prepared brown rice to satisfy my returning hunger before I made my way home. I was disappointed that Robert and Puppy Don weren’t there, and I began to feel abandoned by them. After such an intense experience, I felt that I really needed to talk to somebody who understood what I was going through, and wondered why Robert had left without even saying goodbye. And the more I thought about it, the more angry I became. He was directly responsible for everything I was going through, and I felt like he had deserted me without any explanation.
Perhaps I was feeling overemotional, but I was still angry at him when I finally made it back to my apartment. After drinking several tall glasses of water and eating a few bites of brown rice, I crawled into my soft bed and cocooned myself tightly within my blankets so that I couldn’t see or feel anything else from the outside world.