![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
witchscauldronSort of morose today. Not sure why. Had long, slow dreams again, like the night before. Dreams like drowning. Feel like I'm wearing a mask today. Very detached.
The previous night's dream was not a series of events or symbols or anything. It was merely a sensation, blurred scenes like tripping. Slowly suffocating under layer after layer of heavy plastic, but not caring. Dreaming like dying. Slow-moving spirit, eyes like liquid ruby, face like ashes and mist, floating above me. Could have been underwater, could have been floating. Could have been something outside me, could have been some reflection of myself from another time or place. No pain, tho. More a sense of slow pleasure...of acceptance. Dropping the mask.
Last night's dream was...horror. November forest. Pinned down, tied. Broken under mask. Subjected to sharp pain, corruption like sludge injected under shivering skin. It moved like marbles under the surface. A sense of sudden sleep, total inability to move. Fading into darkness under hands like knives. Blackness taking me away from the penetration, away... Away. No regret, tho. No regret.
It stops. I am in no-time, no-place. I am drowned, underwater...going deeper and deeper. I tear - part sucks for life, cries for breath. The other merely acquieses and lets go.
Rain. Falling rain and long-dead leaves. Birch trees are cold and high. I exhale into the cold, but see no breath. Withering touch. Feathered shoulders - Crow sits there, waiting. Mud-streaked hands, ragged claws clutching silver key. I dig my way out of the ground, born of darkness back into twilight. The new moon stains the land red.
I awake to cold, unforgiving dawn.
Now I sit here, typing. I will give Crow colour tonight - blackest red, midnight ruby - and see what death it draws out. I seek a key. A key and a rune and the hour, and all will come to its' end.
-M.
The previous night's dream was not a series of events or symbols or anything. It was merely a sensation, blurred scenes like tripping. Slowly suffocating under layer after layer of heavy plastic, but not caring. Dreaming like dying. Slow-moving spirit, eyes like liquid ruby, face like ashes and mist, floating above me. Could have been underwater, could have been floating. Could have been something outside me, could have been some reflection of myself from another time or place. No pain, tho. More a sense of slow pleasure...of acceptance. Dropping the mask.
Last night's dream was...horror. November forest. Pinned down, tied. Broken under mask. Subjected to sharp pain, corruption like sludge injected under shivering skin. It moved like marbles under the surface. A sense of sudden sleep, total inability to move. Fading into darkness under hands like knives. Blackness taking me away from the penetration, away... Away. No regret, tho. No regret.
It stops. I am in no-time, no-place. I am drowned, underwater...going deeper and deeper. I tear - part sucks for life, cries for breath. The other merely acquieses and lets go.
Rain. Falling rain and long-dead leaves. Birch trees are cold and high. I exhale into the cold, but see no breath. Withering touch. Feathered shoulders - Crow sits there, waiting. Mud-streaked hands, ragged claws clutching silver key. I dig my way out of the ground, born of darkness back into twilight. The new moon stains the land red.
I awake to cold, unforgiving dawn.
Now I sit here, typing. I will give Crow colour tonight - blackest red, midnight ruby - and see what death it draws out. I seek a key. A key and a rune and the hour, and all will come to its' end.
-M.
