For the first time in years I tried a self regression as, just having a wisdom tooth out, I was feeling rather doped up on Vicodin and ready to relax. So I take myself back to 1783 or 1784. I find myself having breakfast in my apartment with my little dog, Schatzerl, by my feet. Seeing that it's a lovely spring day outside I have my maid bring a leash for the puppy and we go for a walk. As I walk down the street it is a bit darker as the street is narrow and the buildings are kind of high, but after a couple blocks we make it to St Stephan's square, almost blinding in the light, and begin weaving our way around the market stalls and the ubiquitous piles of horse crap steaming amongst the cobblestones. I stop to stare at some hats through a shop window when who should come around the corner but Herr Mozart! He's wearing a green coat and his hair is a bit askew under his brown tricorn, which he takes off in salutation. We continue to walk into the square, dodging the aforementioned horse shit almost like it was a game, all the while discussing the upcoming premiere of his clarinet quintet. He is quite excited about it!
Upon waking from this reverie I try to retrace the footsteps of my walk from the old apartment to St Stephan's as this could give me a clue as to where I once lived in that lifetime. If my estimate is correct, I lived approximately where the clock museum now is in Vienna.
I am certainly glad I live in an era where the streets are cleaner, though dodging hypodermic needles is probably less wholesome than horse excrement.
Upon waking from this reverie I try to retrace the footsteps of my walk from the old apartment to St Stephan's as this could give me a clue as to where I once lived in that lifetime. If my estimate is correct, I lived approximately where the clock museum now is in Vienna.
I am certainly glad I live in an era where the streets are cleaner, though dodging hypodermic needles is probably less wholesome than horse excrement.