Angels & Demons

The Other Realms

Think I may need my aura checked.

Yesterday afternoon on my way to the cinema (Nosferatu which I couldn’t handle at the other scheduled time of 22:20) a man approached me on the street.

I have seen him before. His outfits indicate an accidentally eclectic wardrobe. It is not uncommon that his shoes don’t match. His long grey white hair all matted like giant Rastafari strands dances jolly on his head.

Usually he has a beer can in his hand which he holds out like a lantern shining his path, but mostly meant to steady his walk.

He must hover somewhere between alcohol induced delirium and another dimension entirely.

“Michael?” He said hopefully while staring into my eyes. After close inspection he decided I was someone else. “No not Michael”.

He said it in a way, with such tender disappointment, that it made me immediately wish that I was the illusive Michael he was searching for.

While I walked on I heard someone else ask him “Who is Michael?”

“You know, the angel. Michael.”

On my way to watch a story about a demon I was, however briefly, mistaken for an Archangel. And it made my day.