Rose Blumen ~ Exogignesthai

(Rose)

My dream was the encounter of a time shift.

Understanding retroactively the past, and the events that led to it.

And focusing on that one moment in time where everything began to shift irremediably for me.

That moment, somehow cut and stretched by the rising daiûa underground, that would become known as Blume someday.

Once upon a stretched, frozen moment in time, between 1925 common era and the year 3 after the white day, centuries later.

In that dream, I was offered by a dying star a choice, in the form of a wish to approve or not.

Or in the form of a gate of light opened to me temporarily, to decide to cross and go through or not.

In that blinding light, I could see that moment frozen and stretched in time. And I could understand without a word the uncanny choice offered to me.

What I couldn’t see nor hear, was the will or intention of the god giving me this chance. I couldn’t say if the offer was innocent or malignant, with a shady underlying intent.

At the tip of my fingers brushing the viscous light, I could feel the other end of time, stretched in a way I never thought possible. Backward.

I could stay the present and let that opportunity fade, or return to my former past and self.

In an instant, I could turn back the tides of time, and awaken as I should have.

I felt the shivers running through me picturing it. Picturing the first instants of that life I did not have.

Awakening in the train as sunlight pierced the rainy clouds.

Feeling the remnants of this dreamt life in a future world vanishing swiftly from memory. Did I daydream about something? Some feelings of loss, pain, regrets and guilt soon without substance or purpose.

Maybe I would shed an oblivious tear, still aware that I lost a thing or two important to my heart, but already unable to name you again.

The train would reach a city and stop, pulling me away from this vanishing lull for good.

I would take another train from there...

I would walk through my hometown, and return home... To her.

No. She would have waited for my return at the station most likely.

As I would meet her gaze, I might have one last glimpse of that very distant future that never were.

I don’t know if I would feel sad or happy. But I, we, would smile.

And my life would follow that destiny it was meant to. The one I have learnt small glimpses of.

I would be... We would be happy.

Until we die of old age, around 1981.

As I look into that past, that could become my future, I can’t help but feeling a little sad and nostalgic. Maybe even envious.

The blue rose could be mine...

That dream of seeing her again haunted my very fundamental existence for years in this world.

Life brought me answers, pains, challenges, sorrow and joys; none I could have predicted nor expect.

It was never quite what my past self longed for, but there was some good I would never in a million years have even dreamt of. I became someone very different over time. I adapted as I struggled. I evolved. I value that a lot, very highly.

And if my old self once or twice promised to live according to a childhood blue rose; my current self promised Bleue to live beyond that chain to my past. To break free from the dead rose...

In more ways than one.

I sobbed in that dream, because it wasn’t an easy choice.

On one hand, I would forget everything, and lose everything I grew upon here, along with things and people I truly cared for.

On the other hand, it was the last and only chance ever, my very last chance forever and ever, to see the blue rose again.

It came to the choice of mourning either the original Blue Rose, or the modern Rose Blumen...

If I’m all the Roses, the choice was between Blue and Bleue...

Antagonistic promises born from the same lovely idea. One bringing me back, the other one pushing me forward and further away.

A part of my heart was longing for what was pulling me back... My lonely self.

And another one was eager to look further into the unknown... My dreamer self.

Weakness of heart made me suffer. Both end of this scale are painful to abandon. Because the more I was tempted by my old roots, the more the newer parts of my heart fought back. And vice versa.

Up to the point where I could do naught but cry, unable to choose my destiny. Skuld or Urðr...

I guess everyone longs for a blissful past. Sweet memories... So sweet. Unreal surely. Idealised.

Distant memories are just fantasies...

I said goodbye to Blue, and the former Rose.

I refused the choice given to me, and it exhausted me.

But the shades of Blume, Bleue, Zes and Nightmare were sweeter to me than the bittersweet fantasies of a past, so idealised through time, I couldn’t find myself believing in it anymore...

I may have come from there, but in the end, I couldn’t wish to return to that long gone cradle anymore.

Although I will not pretend it wasn’t dreadfully tempting. It was a painfully hard choice for me. And a doubt will forever linger.

But I like to believe I did the right thing. Rose is Rose. I am me.

And I then had the sweet nostalgic fantasy of a kind I often evaluate myself against. Even though it’s a difficult exercise for me.

What would my old self’s father have thought of this?

Dear father in heaven...

What would you have said to me, before and after this choice?

You who both chose to leave his homeland and past, for years of a journey through the world, and also returned home to an upcoming family...

Georges, I think... he would have told me to choose to stay in the new world. Because my fascination for the whimsical, I inherited from him. And this world is a dream come true.

And oddly enough even to me and my poorly imaginative spirit, as it is my own fantasy, I heard him say something afterward that I didn’t expect.

He would have told me to follow Bleue’s promise to move on. And that meant letting go of him as well.

For me to end judging myself by his ghost, to let go of the soothing habit of daydreaming his approval for my doings...

That idea was another mourning I never fully let go of, and brought me to tears.

I don’t have to. But somehow, I made myself cry imagining that paradox. And a part of me want to agree.

But another is far too sad to let go easily on his ghost as well.

I will see for that part in time. It’s a different root to my older heart and persona that is ripped as I walk away.

What matters for today,

is that I chose to stay,

With you.

~