DEJAVU - A true love story
(written by me 11 May 2022)
This love story (in this lifetime) begins in Pushkar, Rajasthan in 2018. I was 9 days into a 10 day Buddhist silent meditation retreat. I had been travelling India for nearly 6 months at this point so was well seasoned with mystical, absurd and unexplainable experiences. It’s safe to say I was perfectly ripe for the kind of psychic/miraculous/other worldly downloads that I was to receive during my time in meditation.
It was day 9, God knows what hour of the day. We meditated periodically from 4.30am til 9pm everyday for 10 days. Throughout these sessions I had seen some crazy shit in my mind’s eye. Hours and hours worth of random images from my subconscious, most of which I didn’t give too much thought. However what came through on this particular day, in this particular moment had a weight to it. It stuck with me.
What I saw was a man sitting to my left looking at me, talking to me. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Long dark hair tied up, goatee, delicious jaw line. Its no wonder I walked away from this particular session struck and literally asking my self “who the fuck was that?” The thought occurred to me that maybe I’d meet him and I quickly dismissed the idea not wanting to get caught up in fantasy over a man from a “vision”.
The next day the retreat came to a close and I found myself on a packed local bus driving through desert back into town. Disoriented and overwhelmed I made my way to the accomodation that was recommended to me, Sai Baba Guesthouse, put my bags in my room and headed for the square (1 min walk away) to get a chai and acclimate back into reality.
As soon as I exited my street and walked into the opening of the square I saw my two travel brothers Morgs and Daniel sitting exactly where I left them over 10 days ago, drinking chai, smoking joints and playing chess. I did not expect them to still be in Pushkar and was so glad to see some familiar faces. Just as quickly as I spotted them I noticed a man I didn’t know sitting with them. A big warrior-like man sitting cross legged with his hair in a top bun, big doobie in mouth and back straight like Shiva embodied. Who I would soon find out was named Emilio.
I instantly recognised this stranger. “Is this the man from the vision?” I tried my best to not engage with the thought. There were honestly many long haired, gorgeous men with beards around and I didn’t want to jump to conclusions or delusions.
The pull however was undeniably there. I can’t perfectly remember the sequence of events, but I do remember sitting behind him that night at the sunset spot by the lake and shyly telling my friend about the vision. By this point I was sure it was him.
Later that night back at the Chai shop I made a point to sit with, speak to and feel out who this Emilio was. I ended up talking so much I lost my voice. After 10 days of silence I was being forced to take it slow and easy. We wrapped up the conversation so I could get some rest and as his gorgeous 6ft 4 warrior frame stood up to hug me and say good night, our eyes locked, our breath began to sync and like soul magnets our mouths effortlessly came together in a kiss that felt nothing short of a cosmic remembering.
It was intense. The kind of kiss you pull away from feeing drunk, high and misty-eyed. Utterly speechless except for the gentle, resounding whisper of a “wow.”
The next couple of days were a bit bumpy as I discovered Emilio was seeing a sister I’d met briefly earlier in my trip, as so often goes with the back packer trails. I took a step back and gave them their space to be in their connection during her last few days in the desert.
Once their journey was complete, me and Emilio, who has a heart just as open and willing to love as mine, finally merged. Our love affair (this time around) lasted less than a week. A blissful five days of getting lost in each other. Smoking hash, talking, eating fruit and making love on the Sai Baba rooftop.
I told Emilio that I had seen him in a vision and he didn’t flinch. An occurrence I see now would have been more than possible in the reality of a 22 year old American gypsy who’d been on the road since he was about 15.
Finally our week together came to a close and before he drove me to the bus stop on the back of his Royal Enfield we decided to watch one last sunset together at the famous Pushkar Lake.
And just before the sun hit the horizon he left the conversation he was in to join me. Sitting on my left, he looked out at the sunset, then back at me with his gorgeous brown eyes and said “Wow, I’m having the craziest dejavu.”
And I knew we’d been here before. The vision from my meditation was happening in real time. It was so visceral I didn’t need to speak it for validation, I just smiled in knowing and kept the magic for myself.
Months later when I was back in Australia and at a grass roots festival called Confest, I received a miraculous gift and confirmation from the universe of Emilio’s love I’ll never stop being grateful for.
I was sitting on the earth in an audience watching an open mic show with my friend when I noticed the boys behind me. I locked eyes with a gorgeous 19 year old french guy and felt called to ask him his name, he told me, Emilio.
There was a pull between us, an instant platonic or even transpersonal connection you could say. We ended up spending the evening together on an adventure. Sharing psychedelics, smoking cigarettes and finding our way into pockets of magic, creation, connection and music that can only be found at these kinds of events.
We found ourselves under a parachute tent by the river. Nude people gathered around camp fires near by. The scene looked like something out of a psychedelic fairy tale, burly pirates jamming with punks wearing kilts. A chinese man in a pikachu onesie dramatically telling his story to a captive and engaged audience. A beautiful cauldron of misfits, freaks and genius musicians, the motliest of crews.
Little Emilio (as I fondly grew to call him in reference to the other very big Emilio), and I were chatting about life, our passions and he was showing me his tattoos. Just when I didn’t think I could be met with any more validation about the vision in meditation and love I experienced in India many months before, a tattoo on his leg grabbed my attention. He explained to me it was the name of him & his friends’ Creative Collective.
The name was — DEJAVU.
Myself and Emilio at the sunset spot by the lake during our time together.
