The Clan of Galbraith (the surname Galbraith means Foreign Briton) was camped in Buchanan Park, where ‘Razor’ and I were to be entertained by ordinary folks garbed in costumes. ‘They are actors given roles to play in [the] spirit of renaissance; thus the faire’ — Scottish Renaissance Fair (or Pittsburg’s Scottish Festival in Pittsburg, California).
It was a sunny day. And after making our way back from the opposite direction going towards Oakland, CA along the ‘California Delta Highway’ 4 in error, we had parked upon a hill at Heights Ave and hiked our way down towards the grassy area of the park. I felt out of shape as I huffed and puffed with whatever strength I had in my aging body.
Upon arrival at the boundary between the gray sidewalk and the hilly area, I felt some sort of pressure, a subtle energy passing through my system vertically from head to toe, separating one side from the other as I ‘crossed over’ through a thin bubble and into another realm.
This was indeed another place and time where people dressed up and acted their parts. Unfortunately due to not having brains to think and assertiveness to refuse, I actually became a mule for the day to ‘Razor’ as I carried his backpack, a load upon my back for fear of anything getting stolen or psyched out in one of the dimly lit tents of dark fabric.
‘Razor’ changed into this loosely-fitted, white shirt and topped of his head with some stylish hat of the era. I, however, didn’t have a costume to wear and figured my long-sleeved, white-colored shirt was enough to shield my forearms from getting darker than the rest of my pale skin while walking under the heat of the sun.
Our first visit was vendors. ‘Razor’ had acquired a silver-colored, pewter drinking container for mead, which was not available. I do not recall purchasing anything but had looked through a few rings and remembered eyeing a ring with an ‘eyeball’. I didn’t know what I wanted to purchase but I started feeling a little dizzy.
So I stole a chance to cool off underneath a tree and its blessed shade. There was a pond in front of me and the booths behind me on either side. While waiting at this spot for ‘Razor’ to yakking with his friends’, I felt a wave of energy overcome me to the point of experiencing shortness of breath. I took deeper breaths from whatever fresh breeze blew my way to keep my balance.
I wanted to go home soon because I grew weary from the hot weather until our hostess lead us to the concessioners’ stand for some cool liquid to quench the thirst in my dry throat and some tasty food to stop the rumble in my hungry tummy. It was around noontime when we found some nourishment.
We headed back to the camp with the auburn-haired, Scottish woman. This woman has an adopted son, a tall dark-haired one who sat momentarily in front of me with ‘Razor’ to his left. ‘Razor’ asked him a question but he didn’t answer. He got up almost immediately after I kept mentally repeating to ‘Razor’: ‘He won’t answer. He’s not listening’.
There was a shorter, blonde-haired lady by the name of ‘Dianea’, whose left eyeball appeared more prominent than her right eyeball. I was taking her picture along with ‘Razor’ when I noticed this prominent feature to her face. Later from inside the tent in front of me, I heard her laughing out loud after I thought mentally to myself she must be a reptoid.
Afterwards, we walked towards the duels where lots of actors fell down from feigned injuries. I was instructed by a bunch of folks to cuff my ears with the palms of my hands instead of sticking my fingers inside my earholes in order to muffle the sounds of canons firing off. Initially, I didn’t hear them because I was sweltering too much under the hot sunlight.
I didn’t know back then that ‘at the renaissance fair, there are practicing psychics’. I know now that the buzzing feeling as well as the pressure building up from somewhere inside my head were attempts at reading my mind. I didn’t have much of a mind back then and still don’t know any better now.
Though ‘Razor’ has been drawn to these like-minded folks and his energy matches theirs’, I felt foreign and out of place as I waited on the outskirts of their camp. I was lying on my back with the backpack cradling my head for whatever comfort it offered until they waved me into their clan. My adventure with psychics this day was just the beginning, by the way.
Copyright © 2008 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
Leave a Reply