In Dreams

This was initially triggered by a six-word suggestion from a fellow Twitter user. Thanks, Amenah.

This is also dedicated to Adly, who was one of the first people to encourage me to start this blog, and who's leaving the country soon. You shall be missed!

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You were in my dreams again yesterday.

You stood there, clutching that lace umbrella you loved so much. I watch in awe, as you twirl it playfully in your hands, and I can see you’ve painted your nails blue, that brilliant azure color that I’ve always loved so much. I smile, you’ve always had a thing for all things Victorian; you called them regal, austere, beautiful. 




I agree, of course. It is a beautiful thing; the lace white and slender, almost invisible. But then the dream grows more vivid, and I can see it clearly; the patterns and shapes that seem to grow from its center. I could almost see worlds springing into being, planets and stars and universes. I could see the very flames of creation, trailing upon the fine fabric, turning it black, the inky obsidian of space.
There I stood, watching the creation of the world in your umbrella, as you twirled it faster and faster, the stars spinning madly, planets getting into orbit. You control the chaos with your slender fingertips, and it’s a marvel to behold. I lose my footing, and fall.

I keep falling, unaware of where I am, or where I am going. I’ve lost sight of you, and the universe, and all I can see is a swirling kaleidoscope of colors, emerging from a monochrome windmill, black and white. I am entranced, bedazzled, confused, and utterly happy.

And then, suddenly, I stop falling. I look around, and it seems as if I’ve landed in the woods. I see the trees, bare but brilliantly white, burying their gnarled roots in the dark, black soil. The trees almost seem like they’re glowing, luminescing in a place removed from space and time, but I almost do not care about all this, I’ve lost you, and I need to find you again.



I tread through the eerie forest, only hearing the sound of my own footsteps, and my own shallow breathing. Even my heart seems to have stopped; I put my hand to my chest, and there is no beat. Only silence. I like the quiet.

But then I hear a sound, audibly magnified through the barren woods. It is the sound of approaching hooves, fast and sure-footed, thundering ever closer. I am a mess of feelings, I do not know whether to feel excited at this upcoming companionship, a friend in this barren waste, or to feel fear and horror, at what the darkness might bring. 

I am still struggling with my own thoughts, when it breaks through the darkness, a creature so beautiful, so magnificent, that I could feel my heart spring into action at the very sight of it. Its coat gleams, catching the light of a sun that I do not see, and its very breath is moschate. I inhale deeply, closing my eyes, and I am there with you again, lying upon the emerald grass, watching the sun bid us farewell in a mess of black, red and blue.

I open my eyes again, to the stark world of black and white, and the stag still stands before me, but I notice, as if for the first time, that someone is upon its back. I look up, and see a child, a scruffy little hoodlum, peering at me with knowing eyes. His hands are buried in its fine coat, holding on for dear life, and he smiles when I look at him. The smile is old, familiar, and I know it too well. I’ve seen it, in a mirror once. We exchange a nod and a knowing glance, and the stag turns its eyes to me. 



It has your eyes.



Before I could even react, the stag rears and storms ahead with infinite power and grace, and the child borne on its back turns to me, one last time, and points ahead. The message is clear.Breathing in the seemingly nonexistent air, I run after them, as fast as I can. I cannot lose you again.
I tear through the forest, and it tears through me. My clothes are in tatters, and my skin is bruised and bloody, as I finally emerge from the now blackened woods, and then I see.


You are there, still holding your lace umbrella, stroking the coat of the gentle beast I met. The hoodlum stands at your side, smeared with mud and dirt, holding your hand. I can see his knuckles, white and unrelenting. He does not intend to let go, and neither do I.


And you’re still smiling at me, that gentle alluring smile that beckons me ever forward.
I walk to you, falling to my knees before your feet. I am black, red and blue, like the sunset, your faithful ascetic, forever worshipping you, forsaking the fading pleasures of the waking world, to stay here with you, to bask in your resplendent brilliance. I hurt, but I am happy.


I look up, and see your eyes peering into mine; gentle, confident and reassuring. Your hand extends to mine, and I seek to take it, but I cannot. My fingers go right through yours, and I am confused. 


Shocked, you step back with fearful, distrusting eyes. The stag rears excitedly, and storms again into the darkening forest, while the child cowers against you. I see you drop the umbrella, and it transforms as it falls, into ash, into a flock of crows, black and white, that fly straight at me. I close my eyes, bracing for the pain, but the pain never comes.


When I open my eyes again, you are gone. I see their volant forms, skirring freely in the gloomy sky. They grow before my eyes, from crows to mighty eagles, their feathers ivory and obsidian. You are borne upon one of them, the hoodlum on another. I strain to see your face, and for a moment, I could swear I could see a tear upon your cheek, glittering in the light of the unseen sun, as you look down on me in sadness. I, incorporeal, imagined. 



I have lost you, again, like I always do.

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