Cellular Communication

ah yes, it is possible of course.

Last night/early this morning, I lapsed into a dream about the long dreaded suntanned dude that was in the 'historical' dream of mine. This time I met him at the campfire, early in the morning, the cold was biting the skin and he was sitting on a log next to the firepit, prodding the embers to life. I sit beside him, my arms crossed in front of me, hands under my armpits, gathering all the warmth I can from my body. He acknowledges me without looking my way, I just sense the hello from his innerself to mine.

He asks me without words to rub Cedarwood oil into the dreads, and his scalp. I can tell he's been irritated by itches. I begin, and can feel the rough yet soft texture of each dreadlock. They are golden brown with flecks of sun kissed bright gold. I love his hair, its so cool, and makes me smile. But I'm still cold and my teeth begin to chatter. My nose feels like an iceblock. The Cedarwood aroma fills my senses and I continue to massage it into the skin of his scalp.

Then my innerself begins to speak to his. A blooming of real Love, of complete acknowledgment, of...acceptance in Joy of being together. For a flicker of a moment, the human background intervenes and shows a danger message. 'don't get too close, that's when people hurt each other'. but it is now disregarded. Trust in my cellular knowledge is stronger. I know the inner whirrings of my electrons' language and mine are speaking to his, and his to mine. Language spoken out loud is not necessary, in fact, with us it seems it would break the continuity of comprehending who we are to each other.

I am drawn into the space made with his arms, as he sits in front of the fire. The blood warmth of his skin through the cloth of his shirt melts into my cold body, warming and soothing and comforting. I feel like I am glowing with heat and light and love. My back against his chest and his head beside mine, his chin on my shoulder, lips on my cheek. The world is perfect at daybreak. Our fire is growing and the heat from it is warming our legs. Upward there is a blushing sky speaking of rain that day and the birds are quiet.

We haven't spoken a word yet so much has been communicated.