Confusion
Odin. It is Odin.
Odin is pressed close against the power who shelters me and my companion. Not in a violent way. But how? Why? This does not make any sense!
Odin feels… far younger, much less sure, let alone firm, and… totally undone. His presence is a maelstrom of overwhelming emotions – horror, grief, loss, fury, relief, and… others – many, many others – but why?
The words – gurgling, hiccuppy words – that he shares with the shelter are just as incomprehensible as those from other people in other times. But the shelter is clearly proficient in deciphering them, for it echoes the sentiment almost perfectly, including in itnensity.
And, as in other strong emotions and thoughts that the shelter experienced before, this also echoes in us, its hapless residents, in an ever-corresponding loop.
We shriek.
Odin jolts – or maybe our shelter does, or maybe both – and… feels… horrified?
The looping maelstrom of emotions gentles down, in any case.
It breaks, soon after.
But then… Odin…. He feels wondering, youthfully curious, towards us.
And the shelter obliges him, by guiding his presence to touch ours – gently, so, so gently, even gingerly, just like two youthful presences before that somehow felt like kin to me.
But why???! Can he not recognise me? Does he not feel scorn towards me? Does he not feel scorn towards us – I and my companion, whose combined might cannot even match a tenth of his?
Then again, if we are all dead, why is he not here with me and my companion? Not that I would like him to be here, but… but….
This new existence… it is so… so… confusing.
And now he is… singing? To us? Why? What for?
I cannot deny that the song, wordless as it is, is pleasant and even comforting, despite some wavering notes, heavily tinged with lingering grief. But still; Odin, singing?!
My companion pokes at me, then whirls round in a dance. I poke at them back, but do not join in. I am still very much freaked out by this hither-to-unknown side of one whom I called Father throughout most of my life.
My companion is persistent, however. And, before long, they manage to drag me into their dance, swaying and twirling to the song that Odin sings.
The shelter soaks us in their power and presence, in the meantime, and Odin presses even closer, physically as well as mentally.
The shelter cradles him, even as he cradles us while still singing.
I cannot help wondering: Did he ever sing and cradle to me when I was a baby or a little child?
I wish….