Otherkin Diary 3.10.12
Tagebuch zum Thema Andere Welten
von DariusTech
I remember Saira… never doubting reincarnation itself, but being doubtful concerning our otherness. She said, our souls had been dreaming an ancient dream, before we had gotten our first human bodies. She, being the reincarnation of the wife of Mohammed (I think it was like that, but it’s many years ago…). Saira lives the Islam, respect to that, and I would never say anything negative about it.
But if I was to talk to her about our otherness and her explanation for it again,… there is one thing I want to ask her. If it was dreamt a common dream, by all and everyone,… then what makes it any different from the truth? And furthermore, why can’t everyone remember? Only few do…
If it is a dream, than I do not want to stop dreaming it, till the moment I die.
Wouldn’t it be interesting, to make tests on our brains, measuring its activity and its connections. From all of us, who call themselves otherkin, different. One could do it per computer, EEG, or something. Would it give the result, that our brains ARE different? That we have parts of our central computer being programmed, ready to fly. Knowing how to use wings, springing as a pair of second arms from our backs. But would this be a prove for our memories? I don’t think so. Not for scientific minds, who, with accepting our truth, would be forced to give up a great part of theirs.
But does there have to be a prove? When I look into my heart, I know… and on the day I get back home, it will be proven.
Humanity, I dislike it, in its endless greedieness, always begging for more, more, and still more. Noone seemingly be willing to watch further than his or her own ass. May-the-world-be-dead-and-deserted-after-my-death-point-of-view, blinded by television, being to busy with their sick zivilisation to see, that they are walking dead already. Each and everybody is given a limited time to live, in every single life. This is our time to use. That is the entire secret of life, simple, isn’t it?
I do not want to spend my lifetime pretending to be a normal human being. I do not intend to wear any masks at all, to fit within their world. I do not want to live like everyone, I dislike brands and fashion, and I don not care for money and career. If I have enough to make a living, I am satisfied… And I want to get back HOME! Home to the cliffs and the sea I had to leave so long ago… Are the wounds healed now? The wounds that a deadly war had caused to our home? Are the prices paid now?
There are so many lifes I remember, being human. Great people I have lived to know. Some great by their deeds, some by their soul… Some having found their way into human history books even. Others forgotten by millenias.
I remember Carthage, Quart Hadasht, Pearl of the mediteranian. Destroyed and wiped out by Romans. Would our world be different, had it been otherwise? Who could tell? Me not. But I can tell that I have been happy there, And that I will always miss my wife of that life… It is her soul, that I search for in the eyes of potential partners. Maybe I can find it, no matter which sex, age or nationality it might have in this life.
I remember returning to scotland ever again. I miss the Highlands so dearly. Home of my soul, by human measure. The smell of the air, the colour of the sky, and of the grass. Everything is different there from every other place on Gaia!
But my true home is further away. It is beyond google maps, and beyond satellites watching Gaia. My home is on the other side of a gate I have not found yet. My true shape is not human, and I wouldn’t even walk on two feet. I am born from an egg, and not directly by a mother… I am different, otherkin, dragon.
I miss my wings, that made me play the winds over my own ancient home. I miss the cave that I used to live in, little rivets running down the walls. Little Hollows above my head, allowing the sunbeams to enter the cave every here and there. I miss the forests I used to hunt and the cliffs on which I learned to fly.
And I miss him, the White One, the one that could not be my consort… I wonder whether he is there at home, or out here on Gaia, like me. Is he alone, like me? Or did he find another dragon over those countless milennias? I wouldn’t blame. But I wonder…
Gay dragons… Who would have thought that? Not even me, but my memories tell otherwise.
And so I go to rest. Me and my longingful dreams of home.
But if I was to talk to her about our otherness and her explanation for it again,… there is one thing I want to ask her. If it was dreamt a common dream, by all and everyone,… then what makes it any different from the truth? And furthermore, why can’t everyone remember? Only few do…
If it is a dream, than I do not want to stop dreaming it, till the moment I die.
Wouldn’t it be interesting, to make tests on our brains, measuring its activity and its connections. From all of us, who call themselves otherkin, different. One could do it per computer, EEG, or something. Would it give the result, that our brains ARE different? That we have parts of our central computer being programmed, ready to fly. Knowing how to use wings, springing as a pair of second arms from our backs. But would this be a prove for our memories? I don’t think so. Not for scientific minds, who, with accepting our truth, would be forced to give up a great part of theirs.
But does there have to be a prove? When I look into my heart, I know… and on the day I get back home, it will be proven.
Humanity, I dislike it, in its endless greedieness, always begging for more, more, and still more. Noone seemingly be willing to watch further than his or her own ass. May-the-world-be-dead-and-deserted-after-my-death-point-of-view, blinded by television, being to busy with their sick zivilisation to see, that they are walking dead already. Each and everybody is given a limited time to live, in every single life. This is our time to use. That is the entire secret of life, simple, isn’t it?
I do not want to spend my lifetime pretending to be a normal human being. I do not intend to wear any masks at all, to fit within their world. I do not want to live like everyone, I dislike brands and fashion, and I don not care for money and career. If I have enough to make a living, I am satisfied… And I want to get back HOME! Home to the cliffs and the sea I had to leave so long ago… Are the wounds healed now? The wounds that a deadly war had caused to our home? Are the prices paid now?
There are so many lifes I remember, being human. Great people I have lived to know. Some great by their deeds, some by their soul… Some having found their way into human history books even. Others forgotten by millenias.
I remember Carthage, Quart Hadasht, Pearl of the mediteranian. Destroyed and wiped out by Romans. Would our world be different, had it been otherwise? Who could tell? Me not. But I can tell that I have been happy there, And that I will always miss my wife of that life… It is her soul, that I search for in the eyes of potential partners. Maybe I can find it, no matter which sex, age or nationality it might have in this life.
I remember returning to scotland ever again. I miss the Highlands so dearly. Home of my soul, by human measure. The smell of the air, the colour of the sky, and of the grass. Everything is different there from every other place on Gaia!
But my true home is further away. It is beyond google maps, and beyond satellites watching Gaia. My home is on the other side of a gate I have not found yet. My true shape is not human, and I wouldn’t even walk on two feet. I am born from an egg, and not directly by a mother… I am different, otherkin, dragon.
I miss my wings, that made me play the winds over my own ancient home. I miss the cave that I used to live in, little rivets running down the walls. Little Hollows above my head, allowing the sunbeams to enter the cave every here and there. I miss the forests I used to hunt and the cliffs on which I learned to fly.
And I miss him, the White One, the one that could not be my consort… I wonder whether he is there at home, or out here on Gaia, like me. Is he alone, like me? Or did he find another dragon over those countless milennias? I wouldn’t blame. But I wonder…
Gay dragons… Who would have thought that? Not even me, but my memories tell otherwise.
And so I go to rest. Me and my longingful dreams of home.
