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witchscauldronWearing copious amounts of moonstone to bed does have an effect, I am now noting. O_o
Anyway...this is long, so I'll stash it behind an LJ cut.
I was a feral child. I was thrown out of my household and told to go live in the trees. And I did this, dressed in grey, avoiding some sort of patrol that was searching out things in the forests and killing them systematically. I stayed this way for many years, evading and surviving, until I watched a news crew film a footage about capturing a panther who had been maiming and brutalizing passing motorists. No fear of cars, that one. It had a glaring red eye when I walked up to it, and despite being sedated, still snarled and lashed its tail.
I then left the forests behind me, accompanied by a grey man who looked and talked a lot like J's stepfather. He said he'd been a happy, civilized man once before, but he was forgetting. We lived together on the edges of a small town for a while, before he took me back to his family's home to remember who he was. J's mother was the woman of the house, not surprisingly, who urged me to go upstairs and pick up my old life.
This home was nice, but very pale - white. My brother Greg, as he was as a a child, was upstairs playing a dice game...in my room a radio was playing complex arias. I understood them, but apparently no-one else did. Greg told me then he'd put the song on for me, since he thought it might help me remember too.
I closed my eyes. The song moved through me in waves...levels of meaning. Seven times I felt it move through me. My eyes burst open, seeming to be caught in an explosion of crimson, and I was no longer in my white room. I stood in the center of a richly appointed court - all dark polished woods and banners in unnameable hues. The wood seemed to shift under my gaze...pulling here, pushing there, and always curling like a living spiral. The doors to the court were tightly shut, under heavy guard and looked as if they were stone, bound in iron.
Someone was pulling my sleeve. "You've returned!" was the cry around me by some...others met me with glowering silence. I knew then I'd been cast out not to abandon me, but to preserve some sort of royal lineage. I knew my mother then. I knew her to be called Soveriegnty, and I was her true child. They dressed me deep in black, coiled my hair into curls, and I sang the arias I'd heard before, in the language of my people...my tribe.
This tribe wasn't human. They were, however, beings who look, superficially, human. Except your eye seems to sort of slide off of them, doesn't want to see. Their colouration seems to shift on you, making it hard to know what they really look like. I saw some tribal tattoo markings on the back of a hand, here and there, but that was all.
I was given a cloak, and a bright silver crescent was placed into my forehead, gleaming. Then I was sent back to the house, to my "parents" to take my reign back to the earth lands, as it was long before. I hung up my black cloak and dress, set the crescent aside, and it all seemed to fade. I still sang the arias, but they seemed to be from a musical of some kind...I thought I had a role to play, and the rest was part of the storyline, not real.
(Did I mention this was an insanely long dream?)
I went camping with my rover crew. We canoed to an island in the middle of a lake that I remember very well...silent northern skies over glassy water, and a chill in the air. I remember packing - J's mom told me to wear my dress and cloak and ready to perform. I did this, although I didn't know why I'd be performing an opera on a camping trip. We set up camp, and as I walked across the island, I suddenly went back to the court.
Someone held my left hand as the same group who had glowered at me before demanded to see the crescent moon. It shone forth, but tinged in blue. They milled around me, moving widdershins, and the room got darker and darker. I saw my old friends who had cheered for my return at the edges of the room, importent - there were cries now that I convert, and an rusted iron and hematite cross was swung in front of me.
(For the reading audience that's made it this far, please note that Morg IS actually allergic to hematite and will go to any lengths to handle it as little as possible.)
As the cross came down and made contact with my skin, I burst forth into the same aria...it was different, somehow...discordant.
The cross shattered on my skin. I wrenched my arm free and flung my hands to the sky, and it was as if a shockwave passed through my assailants.
At this point I realized I was NOT in an opera, sort of after the fact. It was like I was wreathed in levinbolts, and wind. I started sucking the darkness that had clung to the edges of the room into myself, and it settled around me, merging with the cloak. Or, what used to be my cloak. It had become my wings. My black dress was slowly twining with red and silver. The moon turned red, and I rise up into the air, screaming the song like unholy runes.
I put my hands palm outward, facing the barred door...and then the door burst outwards. Splinters of iron and stone rained down as I soared out of the court, pulling my tribe behind me into the earth world.
We emerge over a stadium. There is an event going on, and I sing my aria, triumphant and clear, over the crowd. My tribe joins me, having little recourse as I have them bound in the air...and I feel the disbelief and awe coursing in the people beneath me.
I awake.
Now that that's out of my twisty black little brain, I'm gonna go fold laundry and pack.
-M.
Anyway...this is long, so I'll stash it behind an LJ cut.
I was a feral child. I was thrown out of my household and told to go live in the trees. And I did this, dressed in grey, avoiding some sort of patrol that was searching out things in the forests and killing them systematically. I stayed this way for many years, evading and surviving, until I watched a news crew film a footage about capturing a panther who had been maiming and brutalizing passing motorists. No fear of cars, that one. It had a glaring red eye when I walked up to it, and despite being sedated, still snarled and lashed its tail.
I then left the forests behind me, accompanied by a grey man who looked and talked a lot like J's stepfather. He said he'd been a happy, civilized man once before, but he was forgetting. We lived together on the edges of a small town for a while, before he took me back to his family's home to remember who he was. J's mother was the woman of the house, not surprisingly, who urged me to go upstairs and pick up my old life.
This home was nice, but very pale - white. My brother Greg, as he was as a a child, was upstairs playing a dice game...in my room a radio was playing complex arias. I understood them, but apparently no-one else did. Greg told me then he'd put the song on for me, since he thought it might help me remember too.
I closed my eyes. The song moved through me in waves...levels of meaning. Seven times I felt it move through me. My eyes burst open, seeming to be caught in an explosion of crimson, and I was no longer in my white room. I stood in the center of a richly appointed court - all dark polished woods and banners in unnameable hues. The wood seemed to shift under my gaze...pulling here, pushing there, and always curling like a living spiral. The doors to the court were tightly shut, under heavy guard and looked as if they were stone, bound in iron.
Someone was pulling my sleeve. "You've returned!" was the cry around me by some...others met me with glowering silence. I knew then I'd been cast out not to abandon me, but to preserve some sort of royal lineage. I knew my mother then. I knew her to be called Soveriegnty, and I was her true child. They dressed me deep in black, coiled my hair into curls, and I sang the arias I'd heard before, in the language of my people...my tribe.
This tribe wasn't human. They were, however, beings who look, superficially, human. Except your eye seems to sort of slide off of them, doesn't want to see. Their colouration seems to shift on you, making it hard to know what they really look like. I saw some tribal tattoo markings on the back of a hand, here and there, but that was all.
I was given a cloak, and a bright silver crescent was placed into my forehead, gleaming. Then I was sent back to the house, to my "parents" to take my reign back to the earth lands, as it was long before. I hung up my black cloak and dress, set the crescent aside, and it all seemed to fade. I still sang the arias, but they seemed to be from a musical of some kind...I thought I had a role to play, and the rest was part of the storyline, not real.
(Did I mention this was an insanely long dream?)
I went camping with my rover crew. We canoed to an island in the middle of a lake that I remember very well...silent northern skies over glassy water, and a chill in the air. I remember packing - J's mom told me to wear my dress and cloak and ready to perform. I did this, although I didn't know why I'd be performing an opera on a camping trip. We set up camp, and as I walked across the island, I suddenly went back to the court.
Someone held my left hand as the same group who had glowered at me before demanded to see the crescent moon. It shone forth, but tinged in blue. They milled around me, moving widdershins, and the room got darker and darker. I saw my old friends who had cheered for my return at the edges of the room, importent - there were cries now that I convert, and an rusted iron and hematite cross was swung in front of me.
(For the reading audience that's made it this far, please note that Morg IS actually allergic to hematite and will go to any lengths to handle it as little as possible.)
As the cross came down and made contact with my skin, I burst forth into the same aria...it was different, somehow...discordant.
The cross shattered on my skin. I wrenched my arm free and flung my hands to the sky, and it was as if a shockwave passed through my assailants.
At this point I realized I was NOT in an opera, sort of after the fact. It was like I was wreathed in levinbolts, and wind. I started sucking the darkness that had clung to the edges of the room into myself, and it settled around me, merging with the cloak. Or, what used to be my cloak. It had become my wings. My black dress was slowly twining with red and silver. The moon turned red, and I rise up into the air, screaming the song like unholy runes.
I put my hands palm outward, facing the barred door...and then the door burst outwards. Splinters of iron and stone rained down as I soared out of the court, pulling my tribe behind me into the earth world.
We emerge over a stadium. There is an event going on, and I sing my aria, triumphant and clear, over the crowd. My tribe joins me, having little recourse as I have them bound in the air...and I feel the disbelief and awe coursing in the people beneath me.
I awake.
Now that that's out of my twisty black little brain, I'm gonna go fold laundry and pack.
-M.
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no subject
Date: 2004-01-13 03:11 am (UTC)Wish I could say something more useful than that. Maybe later, via e-mail.
Coyote
no subject
Date: 2004-01-14 03:39 pm (UTC)-M.