She said when she ran, thunderous footsteps followed her like parasols. In the 5D realm of lucid crossing blur, truth skims her mind’s dusty corridors. Ancestors free their undelivered lives from graves as true beings of ether. The pledge is simple the first time they visit; they are meant to whisper in ears; feather noses with their words – cause the itch, steer it to urgency – she said when they spoke, they sang of destinations. Her visions grew loud as ears dubbed near and far sightings; faint-pitched ringing, the warble of air entering thin enclosures, and the walk of feet on breaking ripples. Her mind hovers above her sleep as she wakes; light hatching a misplaced apparition – landing of a mayfly on night’s shoulder. First published in The BeZine, Bardo Group