Elevated

Elevated.

Di closed her eyes to shut out the lights, the music, the people—the blur.

She had smiled as they lifted her, carried her, passed her toward their center.
Laughed as they perched her on the black office chair.
Raised her arms, joyfully, as they worked into the spin.
She watched them stare into her, enthralled. She felt their expectation; their anticipation. Arms stretched, eyes to the sky, she poised for flight.
But first, one last look. She glanced back for one more smile—one last push—and was greeted by blur. Nausea. Color trails. Imbalance. She was alone, in the midst of their admiration.
Anxiously, she turned her stare upward, to the sky. To the cold ceiling. Held captive. The lights flashed—yellow, green, pink, purple, blue, yellow, green, pink, purple, blue, blurring enmeshed chaos of yellow, green, pink, purple, blue. All she could see were these five colored lights; but no illumination. The darkness of the place consumed her. She longed for an object, a corner, a picture to ground her—but all she saw was yellow, green, pink, purple, blue, forever flashing, forever cycling. She was filled with longing, overflowing, until finally it took over her entire being. There was nothing else. She lost the will to fly.
She screamed. She begged for freedom. Her arms fell. She collapsed slowly. Curled into the spinning chair, grasping tightly to its arms. They stared. They worked into the spin. They admired her vulnerability. They smiled, unseen and unknown to her.
She longed for solitude, grounding, stability. She lashed out—screaming, kicking, hitting. Anything to make the spinning stop. Concerned, they spun her faster. They began to scream, in a chant, “FLY, DI, FLY! FLY!”

Di was emptied. Numbed. Sick.
She felt nothing. She watched the blur. It became familiar. She stood tall, spinning. She faded away.
The riot became her silence. Music full blast, hardcore sex and violence rapped into their chant. FLY. FLY. FLY. She smiled cynically. Laughed in rebellion. Everyone knows—no one can fly. They were easily swayed, like children. She’d fooled them. She’d penetrated their weakest parts, entered them, changing them, manipulating them into service. So they’d forever elevate and spin. They’d keep spinning, and eventually they’d forget what they were spinning for. They’d be spinning and watching because that’s what they do—spin and watch. Believe. Elevate.
And there she’d stand, elevated. Spinning. Forever.
Above it all, caught.
She smiled. She raised her arms, turning her glance upwards. She laughed.

She felt numb. As thought she’d fallen asleep, spinning. She no longer realized disorientation; forgotten the feeling focus. Her heart went cold
Deep within the darkness, her eyes now forever closed, she’d forgotten why she was spinning. The people beneath her ceased to exist. Their faces bobbed blankly with the pulsating bass. Empty, unfeeling they turned into the spin and forgot who they were, what they were there for. Awe-struck dumb their bodies rubbed together, leaning side-to-side, drawn by the deep pulsating rhythm of the bass.

Out of nowhere a piercing slit of white light came blaring through the darkness, stunning the blinded crowd—distracting the spinners. The music cut. The spinning slowed. The spinning stopped. The crowd ebbed dizzily, eyes closed, moaning. Di finally felt—nausea, intensity, LIFE.
And from the bright white light came a shadow, as tall as the light itself, entering slowly and with purpose from what seemed to be a warehouse door, standing 25 feet tall. But the shadow was alone, its owner unapparent, as though it owned a piece of the light itself.
Eyes still burning with change, no one could make out the young woman walking steadily, pupils dilated, focused only on Di. As stunning as the light itself, this woman’s dark complexion starkly contrasted the brilliance within and around her.
As she stepped closer her shadow grew, looming over Di standing still unknowingly, perturbed, intimidated. Then the music returned, softly this time, words caressing, “Strength, courage and wisdom, it’s been inside of me all along,” lulling Di into curiosity, comfort. Then strong hands reached up for her and she leaned hers onto strong shoulders, feeling soft, beautiful black hair nestled between her fingers as she lowered down onto the floor.
Suddenly grounded, she looked into light-brown eyes and recognized the face of a woman from her past, from a time when she loved freely, intimately, joyfully. Staring into these eyes, those of a familiar stranger, she was stunned by the woman’s beauty. Her smile was stern, gently intentional; framed with full lips pursed lovingly, heart-shaped. She had the face of an angel of Indian descent, 5’2” tall she rose above them all with sensibility which re-rooted them in the present. A light-brown, thin, slim-fitting sarong-like shirt fell loosely about her shoulders, flowing down below her wrists and onto Di’s arm as they headed slowly outward, hand in hand.