Blackestbirds

My earliest memory is of a very very black space full of very very black shapes, shapes in very varying shades of black, against a blackity blackdrop of more shapes. A lightless cave full of lifely creatures.

They’re speaking, but their language is a currently indescribable sound. I understand them. I’m not exactly one of them, and I don’t really belong here, either, but we are here together in this nest, and I feel safe.

(It’s not like I had my eyes open and all I could “see” was blackness. There was nothing missing here, as far as sensory input goes. This was the normal way to perceive in that place: light simply didn’t exist; it was all different textures of blackness.)

Many of these beings strike me as bird-like. Chirp chirripe wheedle whistle chee.

I think they were advising me. Or maybe warning me.