So I met this guy years ago named Alex. Short for Alejandro. A unique character. A Syrian Mexican construction worker just back from Micronesia. That's a mouthful. So, we were watching a movie relaxed and I was rubbing his feet. Then I saw it. My first vision. Black and red. A small child looks up through a burning roof at palm trees. I see a kitchen table. I see him. I am him going to hide under the kitchen sink. He was so small. The angle of sight and and space he fit into. Well I said what I saw. He stood up and cried. He said I shouldn't have said that. Left. I never saw or heard from him again. I only wish I knew if he was scared of me, his trauma, or reality. Lucky to be alive, Alex. I wish he would've come back. A piece of his spirit is always with me.
