Day 40: bonfire of the mystics


“Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back – a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.”

–  Anaïs Nin


I arrived at the Dubai Airport 1 around 11 AM to pick up my best friend Norman, with the sudden blaze of unexpected sunlight in a recently rainy Dubai and loaded with my apprehension towards seeing my friend with my ready-to-be-pricked ripened pimple sticking out of my nose. Well, derogatively speaking, that is. Man, in my 30s and still having pimples! I looked at myself in the mirror the night before and told myself, “This . . . is the face to ugly.” acquitted with my own reasoning that what is about to come, with pictorials galore and the paparrazzi season brimming with my friend’s birthday orgy just hours away, will not deflate the idea that my skin, in all its time-worn lifing, is still an adolescent skin. With its active sebacious glands and yielding sexual promise. Yes, to this point, in passing, I must say that I am young and definitely hot!

Norman brought with him his ambient Riyadh smile that I found disturbing. The same way I felt about the sunshine that enveloped the entire city all of a sudden. When we were at the Mall of the Emirates, an anti-Christ fell off from the escalator and he gushed with empathy. I snubbed the whole scene. We reached La Creparis for crepes and another anti-Christ, who was in a stroller, was whining to her mother about something typically demeaning. I grabbed our fabulous tuna crepe and Belgian chocolate waffle and to my soreness, glared at Norman, who was busy baby-talking with the wheel-chaired trajectile of a humanoid. ” Oooh yes? Boo boo boo. What do you want from your mooomma?”    I almost threw up.

At Carrefour, the bad-tempered counter lady bagged our candles and hand sanitizers like she was stuffing potatoes in a sack. I gave her a standoffish smirk, amused with her negativity. Norman, who stared at her, gently took the plastic bag and assisted her. Much to my gladdening wish to impale the counter lady and half-wishing Norman would stop demonstrating kindness, Norman, in his anesthetized voice, said, “Merry Chrismas, po. You know what, you should smile some more. It is almost New Year’s, we should all smile . . . ” Miss Negative, embarrassed, smiled anyway. “See? You look so pretty when you smile!” Norman closed in, grabbing the bag from her. I looked at my friend for a good 2 minutes and wondered what kind of hallucinatory drug he was taking.

Or was he the drug?  The drug to intense jubilance?

One thing led to another.  The day went on beguilingly.  The waitresses, the passersby and the whole world for that matter were nicer, happier and weirdly accommodating.  Something that I have not seen in Dubai happening in one day.  I told Norman about the power that he was exuding.  It made me want to strip him off of his job in Riyadh and let him stay in Dubai for good.  This city needed to be kinder.  And it did today.  It was spellbinding and Norman transformed into a Versace-clad mystic spewing benevolence everywhere.

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Norman’s birthday party was held at the enlivened Cactus Jacks.  When my friend Gracie was still alive, we used to go CJ to hide away from the noisier club scene of the city.  Intimate as it was, the Tex-Mex restaurant came up with torches on their outside patio this year.  Had it not been for the blossoming of my friend’s instantaneous spells on positivity, I could have decided to go somewhere decadent, but no.  The night called for an unfolding resonance and Norman’s birthday party bridged the gap between bilocation and witchcraft.

I had to thank my lucky stars for bringing together my favorite people in the world to this soiree.  People that came from different latitudes of my lunatic life;   my soulful kin Elektra, my sister and combat ally Dess and her beloved, Alexandre, my co-everything Catherine and my best friend, Norman.  All of them did not know each other 5 years back but was brought together by the lineage of their sensitive nature and surprisingly, by their intergalactic resonance, as all of them turned out to be good friends along the way.  Of course, me being the origin of each’s inaugarative harmony that blended perfectly.  They are all witches in their own right, all adventurers of their metabolistic existence and although different in form and content, all are in rhythmic copulation with enthusiasm and energy.

It was Norman’s birthday party.  And it was also my celebration of unbridled love.  It was my very OWN universe.

ELEKTRA maintained composure until she dove into the woman in her.  Amid the swirl of violets in her parallel universe, her nails turned to tangerine and waited for the interval of her tongue, under her matted lips, to speak.  When she did, she casted a spell and made everyone believe in the invitation of mental strength and emotional maturity.

CATHERINE, guffawed momentarily and swayed her golden fork to everyone’s mouth.  Until then, everyone turned into bounching orangutans with wings.  Like the hoots of an owl, she fed everyone with extended explosions coming from her spellbinding innards of passion that homed in their stomachs nicely.

ALEXANDRE wore his Rasta mien and danced above all of us.  He suspended himself and threw from above bolts of efficacy from his piccolo, a virtual marijuana, that goofed us gladly to godly clarity and world peace.  A singular verve born out of the adulation for humankind.

DESS, the goddess, smiled through it all.  Her Scorpion eyes looking at everyone with three-dimensional fortitude, literally verbalizing the spells of freedom she was magically dabbing at everyone’s haloed heads.  She saw the future and saw herself twirling to Alex’s piccolo, by her shores of freedom, gathering all her might and relished the glow of everyone’s chants.

NORMAN AND I stole each other’s vigor as usual, but each radio active pulse radiating to the rest of semi-humans on the table.  We looked at each other and revived kindness that became underrated with years of living alone and independently.  We smiled at each other and dashed to the skies that turned deep blue all of the sudden, the clouds clearing as the moon beamed to the witches below him knowing it seized the day and survived the night under the bonfire of the mystics.

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