I actually imagined this. For real.
Crimson drops of my blood drip into a calabash as I feel the cold steel blade of the High Priest’s knife slice through my palm. Pain, hot and searing, skitters on my nerves and I am on the verge of howling.
With the light from the big fire, whose flames furiously rises higher and higher to lick the sky, and moonbeams that pass through the trees in the grove, I see the High Priestess, dressed in red and white, daintily walk towards me with an earthenware plate in her hand. Towering above my kneeling form, she dips her index into the content of the plate to mark my forehead. At that, there is a loud cheer from the others. She raises her hand and immediately, silence, like a cloak, descends upon us and I imagine Diana here to join in our…
I don’t even know how this “entered” my head in the first place. But, it’s “all good”.
(Sighs) Sometimes, I feel as though I’m in a Salvador Dali painting. Nowadays, my thoughts seem to run with my mind.