The woods have a strange effect.

Clobbered with intense feelings of nostalgia so deep and paralyzing, it’s like I am re-downloading a decade of my life and reliving all those experiences — all in fast forward with the emotional intensity turned up to level ten.

But I don’t even think nostalgia is the right word. Instead, it is as though a higher dimensional part of my self is “touched” in some strange fashion. And from that touch, my self burns, not unlike the burn one feels when someone or something touches a dormant wound.

The issue is that these emotions escape conventional language. It’s not sad, not nostalgic, not melancholy, not fondly reminiscent…it’s just a sense of “it” being so foreign, strange, and “other”, and yet so close, familiar, and primal. In one minute — no one second — “this” feels like home. Then “this” no longer feels like home, instead, “that” feels like home.

I am wandering through a dream, just on the cusp of lucidity. Guided by the most delicate of pulls and pushes of the heart, I am returning to something - something that I had long ago forgotten.