The poetry & poetic prose of Brandon Gene Petit

Posts tagged “deja vu


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Monkeys in Tschavaro

Oddly enough, I’ve found that feelings of déjà vu and false memory can spill over into my dreams… perhaps you’ve experienced the same. There is a particular dream that stands out in my mind as one of my favorites, and one that best imitates the feelings of shock and bewilderment (and sometimes despair) that comes with a return to reality upon exiting a delusion of memory. In this dream, I was at a small gathering among friends at somebody’s house, and one of the friends at this gathering was a newer acquaintance… a young woman about my age, who was pregnant. We were all listening to this strange, beautiful music…a music whose sound and nature I cannot fully recall… but it seemed to leave impressions of an ethnically diverse post-electronica or new age personality that was rich with imagery and mysticism.

I remember everyone was pacing around and fidgeting, fully engrossed in the music, except for this one pregnant woman who was relaxing in a recliner and doing something, possibly reading, though I cannot recall exactly. As the music intensified I felt a subliminal connection growing between me and this child-carrying woman, and I felt blessed in the presence of motherhood. I felt a growing sense of hope and subtle ecstasy, as if I somehow knew that the child would bring about my prosperity and good fortune when it was eventually born. The new age CD kept playing over and over throughout the night, and our favorite song… which resonated with us dearly and got stuck in our heads… was a song called “Monkeys in Tschavaro”. I did not know what “Tschavaro” was, but I assumed it was some sort of exotic place or foreign temple… the song brought to me peaceful, Zen images of exotic monkeys lounging about the steps of an oriental city in the eerie twilight.

The woman and I talked much while this song played, talking about the music and the things it made us think of… and talking about life in general. The mother-to-be and I were bonding, and the night was very memorable in light of our quickly growing friendship. However, later in that dream… or in a subsequent dream that occurred later in the same night… it was supposedly years later and I was trying to remind my friends of this beautiful night. However, they remembered nothing… nothing of that entire night, nothing of the strange music that played or anything about a song called “Monkeys in Tschavaro”… I was dumbfounded, saddened, and a little embarrassed. How could they forget that night, I thought to myself, and that song that we listened to over and over again? It is impossible; it is uncanny. Whether in full-blown reality or imitated in dream, thus is the nature of falsa memoria.