{"id":48839,"date":"2024-03-10T05:00:16","date_gmt":"2024-03-10T04:00:16","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/?p=48839"},"modified":"2025-09-29T20:58:00","modified_gmt":"2025-09-29T19:58:00","slug":"curios-atmosphere","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/curios-atmosphere.html","title":{"rendered":"Curious Atmosphere"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/p>\n

\nIt started this morning around 7:00. I woke up in the middle of a conversation with a couple of guys I didn\u2019t recognize. The conversation was strange, one of the guys was speaking to me in an authoritarian tone, cutting out the syllables, to get what he was saying into my head. Failure: as soon as I woke up, I did not remember anything. It is wanted.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Plurien<\/h4>\n

Yes, wanted. I was in the middle of a soft-packed session. They were talking to my unconscious. The warrior in me woke me up in time, I think<\/a>. From that moment on, the day started to slip like never before. My house I have known for a quarter of a century. The sloping garden, the bay of Erquy, the village, I have known them for 70 years. Where does this irreducible sense of strangeness come from? Why do I feel elsewhere? How do I get back to my place and now?<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t recognize these guys because I had never seen them. But I could have identified them by their subtle smell. They are archons<\/a>, or their employees. They have a mission on earth, and apparently I\u2019m one of them. It\u2019s like convincing me of something important. Something I forget.<\/p>\n

Erases the conversation. There is nothing left of it, except its color of outer-world. These spawns are not from here, and now my living environment is not from here either. As if everything had changed, insidiously, barely, the space of a restless night.From what made my joy every morning, these insignificant details that matter more than everything else, these paintings of dear friends, these little things that filled me with joy, they\u2019re all gone. There\u2019s nothing left. Il n’en reste plus rien<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Timing<\/h4>\n

There is a time for everything, says the Bible. Would I have violated the timing<\/a>? Did I wake up at the wrong time? No. On the contrary. There was urgency, I acted, I get out full speed of Morpheus’ arms. Serves him right.<\/span><\/p>\n

alerte — alerte — alerte — alerte — alerte — alerte — alerte<\/span><\/h2>\n

As I type these words, a gray-black silhouette rises the slope of the garden towards my window. I turned my head very quickly to have a chance to see it<\/a>. I saw nothing. The path was different, dreamed, unreal. A second later, it became the usual way again.<\/p>\n

“Seeing” is a particular way of feeling like you know something beyond a shadow of a doubt.<\/p>