Archive for the ‘Dreamer’ Category

Missing Link

December 5, 2010

I think of you as the wind blows cool
and sweet
And I, the fool to think this view is
I lie alone beneath the moon
and sigh
I wish for you too late, too soon
without you, I
Am a fool as the winds blow through
so cool and sweet
I think of you beneath the moon
and the dream’s complete


Out of sight, still in my mind

March 20, 2010

Spaces have a tendency to become Full;
Dirt, bugs, sorrow, all find their way in.

Places in a World;
And out of it.
Places in a Mind;
and out of it.

If you ignore a place for too long
you may find it has faded and lessened
Or worse–
You may never find it again.

Hold the bright places close in your mind, even if you cannot reach them with your hands.  Polish them gently, wipe away the fog of time and neglect.  Shoo out the spiders that nibble away at the stray threads, stealing them for other uses.
Find the unknown path to the place you began, and walk upon it as far as you may, until you know it again and for the first time.

Check the hidden places of the world, it is there your lost Treasures hide.  It is there dragons reside, and it is there.
There you will find. . .

Dreaming to awaken, Fleeing to find

February 13, 2010

There is a world hanging in the universe, dangling in the breezes of a million thousand stars and the breath of dreams.  All the beings in this world, and the world itself, came from an egg.  Long, long ago they hatched.

Until the egg hatched, all the world was one.  A single lonely being, flying along.  Or perhaps fleeing.  The egg had no nest, and no parent coddled it till the shell became riddled with cracks, anxiously listening for the first peep from inside.
Lonely and singular.  Flying or fleeing.  Searching for adventure, or at least an end to the journey.  The egg began to crack.

Slowly thin lines of fracture ran along the shell, catching the starwinds, the dreams of the universe.  The creeping drafts of world dreams seeped inside, and the Being in the egg began to dream.
It dreamed a million million dreams, of a billion different shades and colors. And as the Dreamer journeyed through the visions, the egg began to slow its pace, its headlong rush.  As the egg slowed, the rifts in the shell spread, the dreamwinds rushed in, and then the egg slowed yet more.
The Egg grew heavy with the weight of dreams, and the being who dreamed began to fracture like the egg which held it.

Dreamer became dreams, became dreamers.  Energy suffused the shell as the great weight of dreams gathered within ignited and flared.  The shell peeled back, curling up into itself upon the fractures, pulling tighter and tighter together as it curled off the radiant forms it once contained.
The forms stretched, shifted, pulled each other back and forth, merged together once more in liquescent madness before bursting apart one final time, a great splash of dream-suffused, instable being enveloping what once had carried all together, coating the brittle discarded shell in shining dreams; the hard reality of a protector weakened hidden away forever in a brilliant glowing radiance.
The remaining mass of wild, numinous dream-stuff wrenched and writhed about, growing first closer and then farther to the brilliant former shell, darkening and lightening in turn.  The wild dance continued some untold time, and then Dreamers began to awake.

The wild mass of Being made Dreamers, the former egg suffused with world-magics and dream-winds settled and changed more with each awakened Dreamer.  Some sought to leave, to forge their own Shell and begin the interrupted journey anew.  Others continued the flight from the stars deep into the center of the Dreaming mass, to hide there, glowing, still fluid, refusing to give up their dream-stuff to make them true.

Many simpled wandered the outer surface of discarded dreams, left behind by previous Awakenings in vain attempts at one thing or another.

Every Dreamer thought the Dreaming their own, a unique truth.  All of them forgot the Egg, and the journey.  The forgot the song of the stars and the winds full of dreams.

Slowly what had been the Egg began to turn and dance with its former shell.  The shell glowed more warmly, feeding back some of the lost star winds that had wrapped around it as Dreamers awoke. Slowly a balance built up, a flow of winds between glowing shell-star and misty world-dream.  Dreamers found they could use these winds to begin the journey written in their dreams–leaping from the great Dreaming, into the winds that sang of loss and joy.  Leaping into the unknown, swept about the shell-star, wrapt about with a sprinkling of dust, the Awake left the world one by one.

As they flew onward, propelled by dream-winds, that first spotted layer of dust began to collect other detritus on their flights. Awake to the universe the dreamers cared nothing for their vision, could not feel the accretion forming around them as they hurtled, spinning, through space.  The winds that sped them onward gradually could do no more than wrap ’round them, cradling them gently as they slipped out of them selves.  Perhaps they slipped into madness.  Perhaps into dreams.  Perhaps they simply left, leaving behind them a soft living blankness, cradled by a sturdy shell that hurtled through space.

Lost in the Night Tides

January 20, 2010

Be wary of Dreams.
Trust not Yearnings.

Test carefully the waters of your mind before you swim in them for they may, in fact, belong not to you but to Another.

Like the valley ruled by the Guardian, there are other lands linked to dreams.  Some are kindly and some are. . . less so.
There are Seas to drown all Dreamers.

Most such seas are cold and forbidding in aspect, they drown those who dare their waters simply to prevent the attempted intrusion.  They do not wish to allow outsiders within their waves.
These oceans are deadly, but they will not go out of their way to snare one who Wanders.
The gloomy seas do not seek to lure in the unwary.  They harm only those who intrude.

It is their inviting kinfolk one should fear, bedecked in sparkling tides and dancing on glistening strands.

Be wary of dreams, but do not fear them.  Even the roughest sea may have smooth sailing, and the wildest wave can bring the greatest fortune.
Trust not yearnings, but do listen to them.  The song of the heart is not unlike the sea’s secret words.
Treat them properly and they might yield the greatest treasure of all.

The Hidden Paths 1/?

January 11, 2010

Once upon a time there was a girl. She could have been a boy, if there were order forms for that sort of thing. But she didn’t mind which she was. Just as well, really. Youngest of three, or perhaps some other number, she had nothing to be the opposite of and simply followed the paths as she found them.

The paths took her many places and each place she met new people. When she met them, they would give her masks. Some were quite solid, with names and lives of their own. Some were comfortable to wear. Some were such a stretch they barely fit. And some were as filmy and delicate as spiderwebs flecked with dew. Sometimes the girl changed to suit the masks, and other times, they changed to suit her. She kept some of the masks for always, and left others behind to find different wearers.

Every person she met wore their own masks. Some they’d been given, some they’d made themselves. Few people had no masks at all, though some occasionally went without theirs.

The masked paths the girl took led her past many wonders. Chasms filled with sky, towers filled with dreams, gentle creatures living in monster-masked societies.

Everyday like clockwork, the ends of the paths took her home.

Jabberwocky Jazz

December 5, 2009

Walk down the street at night. Is it dark? Is it really? What shadows can hide the monster you fear? Look around with your cats’ eyes, your dreaming vision set free, and then tell me.

Tell me how the Moon sings, sang, sung that day so long ago. How the Sun wept, and thrummed a tune so soft. What clouds dared leap with their sweeping steps when the night fell?

How can mystery remain when the shadows fade? Where the monsters lurked there is nothing but refuse and sorrow, all hope of glory fled and broken. What use a light when darkness ceases? When all fades in a sea of soft gloaming times why blaze and burn out–the lurking ones have gone, so now the heroes follow.

To the dark places that yet remain, light rushes, seeking for reason.
Why light a candle if the dark is not to be feared? No caution left in the night, no hint of the natural worry to be taken when vision is veiled and softened.
Despite the lack of shadows, there are monsters still. Can you see them?