Underground eXperts United Presents... The Midnight Dance At Noon By Simon Moleke-Njie
"The Midnight Dance At Noon" by Simon Moleke-Njie (Simon Mol). Love is powerful, but so is religion and tradition. And when the respective interests of such super-powers collide, anything could happen - and it is not always for the best. This is a short story (with a parapsychological introduction) about strong but impossible love, and the quest for breaking free without losing one's identity, situated in contemporary Africa. Highly recommended.
THE MIDNIGHT DANCE AT NOON
a short story, with a parapsychological introduction
by Simon Mol
When your eyes are closed - you are the Absolute...
There's no distance
Between the north and south poles...
There's no me or you... only a stupendous Totality
That manifests as an Incomprehensible darkness...
When your eyes are closed
You dissolve into an equation, in which one plus one is infinite.
INTRODUCTION
Saturday January 13th 2001
It is 3:30 AM. I am travelling at a tremendous speed in the inner planes. I come face to face with the image of my mum. This unexpected encounter jolts me in a pitiless impact that leaves no time to figure things out. She is shouting an instruction at me. She is telling me not to focus my attention on other people - relatives and friends.
I tell her I have a right to do as I please and deal with whomever I feel like. She says I shouldn't defy her or else I will have to contest with her wrath. I tell her there is no point in getting angry over the issue
because it makes no sense.
At this, she gets really mad at me! Her face takes an unnatural prolongation with her neck stretching like that of a giraffe - "I will kill you if you fail to obey me!" she yells at me at the top of her voice. My totality is at this point concentrated on my forehead as I look her in the eyes and tell her "this is impossible!" I say this with my 'will' rather than with my voice as I haven't any at this point.
It is a carefully calculated and masterly executed act of 'Liemba', a deadly manoeuvre which has penetrated my fortress and is frightfully close... in inner facts, too close to inflict injury. I remind myself that
in this particular world, blood relation doesn't count. I advice myself to stay an inch no longer. Urging with a psychic monster makes sense only in a computer play station. I admit defeat and flee, fast too. It takes less than the speed of thought by the velocity of inner time to return to this side of reality in which you are reading this.
Yes! I fled from 'that world'... a world governed by the principle of self-judgement. It is only now that I ponder over the episode and wonder for the first time if it really is the projection of my mum who is thousands of kilometres away according to the human lore of time and space. I arrive at an inconclusive hypothesis that perhaps it could be a first degree impersonation.
....
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