I figured this is something that I'll like to write about after a long time. Life, happens and I guess, thinking back it's a story that I find it hard to retell again after so long. Perhaps it's a vision? or simply just a thought that managed to manifest, or a hallucination?
This really intimate and private thought ironically becomes one where I explore my trigger and my pain in relationships; the wrong people that I'd... well, we all need to meet the wrong people to find the right one.
I was sitting down by the basketball court during the evening, I could still remember the birds chirping, the evening heat buzzing across the field. We're all in our own zone, trying to stay sane during this intense period of solitary isolation. Without any contact, shedding our every single material wants and needs; we're stripped off of everything... that made us, us. Or perhaps what we think that made us, us.
They say vipassana meditation could give you a glimpse of your past life, your karma, your wrongdoings, your right, the reasons of the Universe. That's when I saw this vision, which until today still remains quite a mystery to me.
Warning: Trigger Warning Contents.
It was a view from the top of the basement, I saw sunlight filtering in from the rectangular glass window. It was dark, as if monotonous, it felt like there isn't much colour, but the shades of grey. The bricks are as dark as coal and dust were floating across the air of the basement. The view panned slowly across, from left to right and I could see a chair upset on the ground, a wooden chair with 4 sticks supporting the back with a horizontal rectangular board on top. It was just laying there, slanted down as if kneeling.
I heard the sound of the noose, before noticing there is a man, dressed in a black suit, and pants, together with his shoes that shine as bright as the day. Legs dangling across. Time started to warp and distort as I could hear poetry being recite, and him writing down before putting down his top hat onto the table, next to the written poetry, before walking towards the chair.
I couldn't stop him, as I watched helplessly, as the obvious starts to unravel. Like a ball of yarn, it fell onto the ground and it started rolling away; just like how the body fell with a thud. I watched closely... There are, no struggles. I could hear the poem continuous being recite, but the voice is seemingly inaudible.
I could only pick up what's at the back...
"And she doesn't even know"
and it kept repeating, as I saw him walking up, hoisting himself over, before staring at the 4th wall with his dead and hollowed eyes, that's drained out of hope, before putting his face through the noose. The next thing I could hear is the sound of the noose tightening, as I could hear his body weight shifting across the pipes that held the rope. Time seem to have warped, again, and it felt like he's left undiscovered, just like his poetry.
It was a painful and strange memory, as I could feel my throat getting constricted for a moment, and I instinctively felt around my neck, only to find myself still sitting in the present moment in a daze.
I won't have to link it up or have much thought about the vision until I started feeling some severe panic attacks and the sensation of throat constriction. It was a scary feeling, as I had my face in between the windowpane, trying to breathe.
It is only after I have a talk with my "teacher", which was when I understand how the sensations come from the releasing of the sankhara, which brings about unique sensations. And to one thing he mentioned that I picked up is "suicide in your past life", which bought me to associate this to my vision.
After writing this piece, I sit here, still thinking about the memory with goosebumps. It'll be something that I'll never know.