I write;I think;I know.

Precursors Analysis

"So now what can I say," I asked my cat.

"Tell it how it is," replied my cat. "Perhaps you'll find someone willing to listen."

"It sounds like insanity," I sighed. "So the little voice of reason tells me you don't want to listen to what I say."

"I'll listen," said my cat.

"But you won't believe," I grumbled. "You'll talk about coincidence. And chance. And then offer rationalizations to make me doubt my own thoughts."

"Perhaps I do believe," said my cat, "deep down. But unlike you I can't live with conflicting visions of reality."

"I wouldn't say," I smiled, "I'm especially good at living with it."

"I don't know," purred my cat, "you seem to handle it well." She raised a paw and began to clean herself. "So what," her shadow asked, "has triggered this bout of angst."

"The Men in Black," I admitted, "are back."

"Seriously," prompted my cat.

"Well it could have been an elf," I smiled. "But seriously, I got stopped on the street by a missionary in a dark suit."

"I take it you don't consider," said my cat, "the faith being represented is important."

"All faith is important," I grumbled, "I simply don't wish to give the impression the weirdness I'm experiencing is related to any specific one."

"Oh, I see," said my cat. "And the weirdness," she asked.

"Started before I got to the street." I admitted. "My thoughts all got a bit swirly. I got lost trying to find my way back to a place I could be with my children. I was beginning to get to a point where I didn't think I could get outside."

"That's when I told you," smiled my cat, "you needed to get milk."

"I didn't think I could get even that far," I admitted. "It's as if a wall of energy was pushing me back. Seeking to keep me locked in my room."

"Yes," said my cat, "we deed seem rather highly-strung."

"But I'd made a decision," I continued, "I wasn't going to let my demons stop me. By the time I got to the door," I sighed, "whatever it was was knocking chunks of my past into my consciousness trying to make me aware of something."

"And the message," asked my cat.

"Seemed to have something to do," I sighed after a considered pause, "with The Book of Revelation."

"Hence the reaction," smiled my cat, "to the man in the street."

"Exactly," I admitted. "There were even some comments made about my having broken the first seal."

"I can see," said my cat, "how discussing this is difficult."

"Living it is just as hard," I sighed. "At one point I felt I was about to fold."

"You didn't," replied my cat.

"No," I smiled. "Just like always I locked on target and pushed through the wall of noises in my mind."

"Yet part of you," said my cat, "wanted to let it out."

"Certainly," I admitted. "And for a moment I began to believe I'd found a forum to express some of what's been plaguing me without fear that my words would be used to put me in yet another box."

"And why do you fear that," asked my cat.

"They are not the words," I admitted, "of a sane man."

"Why's that," asked my cat.

"Sane people," I sighed, "don't find themselves with a bunch of non-corporeal entities in their mind arguing who's who."

"To be fair," said my cat, "it is a matter of belief."

"Cutting to the core I can see beyond belief," I sighed. "But in that world there are no words that can be spoken. When I translate it back to this realm I hear what I say and it makes no sense."

"A when you're stopped in the street," asked my cat, "by somebody attempting to discuss Jesus."

"The list of names compresses," I conceded, "and I begin to see how it is Gabriel becomes Lucifer."

"Those who bring the light of change," said my cat, "are seldom welcome."

"I hear words," I admitted, "whispering a name in my mind."

"And what name would that be," asked my cat.

"Michael."

"So now you know," said my cat.

"So I'll translate it into another realm," I laughed, "and find my own way to live with it."

"Share," sighed my other cat...