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I'm somewhere, watching a church service with Jeff in this very modern (& hugely tall) outdoor cathedral - the walls are red, with letters of the alphabet spelling nonsense words in black and white pattern. Jeff shows me that each letter is comprised of slots on this building, filled with like an...ID card, ending in a barcode, representing each parishoner. O_o The whole place around us is concrete and steel, and it's night. I leave.
I :hear: (meaning I don't know from where or how) a rumour that there is a woman claiming to be a living goddess living somewhere here, in the city. I try to go there, but end up near some form of artificial pond, in very bright daylight. The edge of the poured concrete is about 60 ft. over the edge of the shallow water. A non-descript man in faded black is pushing a woman dressed in white to fall over the edge - she is on her stomach, bound at her hands, and weeping with terror. I leave before I know what happens, but the image is fixed in my head.
Before I go to see the woman-goddess, I stop, and am looking in a store at resin incense - a gift, I think, but none there is suitable, being Native-American or New-Age. There is music there, softly in the background, sounding old but I cannot remember it. Many chimes. I buy her something.
I arrive at this woman's apartment, gift in hand, but as she opens the door, her mother blows past me, complaining about how "all this goddess nonsense has made trouble for the family". She is in her crone years, greying, strong, but not beautiful. She feels normal.
Her daughter, though, is a radiant, exotic beauty - golden skin, black silky falling into ringlets down her back, soft black eyes with a hint of fire, an exotic tilt. She is lithe, and lean - a dancer's figure and grace. Dressed in a imprinted white linen, delicate and fine - I have the impression of feathers from her, but do not know why. She sighs, and begins to gather what seem to be important things - small, ivory carvings of something. She tells her mother that the cycle will always go on, is never-ending; that she is sorry that she cannot be "normal" for her mother.
She acknowledges my presence, smiling fondly as she gathers things. As she moves, the same chiming sound I heard in the store comes from her swaying skirts.
Her sister joins us, looking similar to her sister, but softer, not so brilliant. Dressed in soft colours, rather than white. Her linen skirt is like gauze as well. Both sisters are lean and beautiful, with kohl-rimmed black eyes and hair...their mother seems out of place, very..normal, to have had such daughters. As if she was not like them at all.
The sister is ready to cry, and embraces the other, weeping. "I am sorry it will not end," she says. "Your husband is gone...find him again." The living goddess smiles softly, kissing her sister, and they all embrace. A flurry of motion happens, leaving the sister and the mother behind, and then I am with this strange goddess-woman and her ivory figures, in a car.
We go to leave, but we are getting shot at by men. They are all in black, and it is night again. We drive, moving to escape - She says "They must not catch us, or I will have to start again."...we drive down these hideous, modern-tangle streets...
And I awake.
-M.
I :hear: (meaning I don't know from where or how) a rumour that there is a woman claiming to be a living goddess living somewhere here, in the city. I try to go there, but end up near some form of artificial pond, in very bright daylight. The edge of the poured concrete is about 60 ft. over the edge of the shallow water. A non-descript man in faded black is pushing a woman dressed in white to fall over the edge - she is on her stomach, bound at her hands, and weeping with terror. I leave before I know what happens, but the image is fixed in my head.
Before I go to see the woman-goddess, I stop, and am looking in a store at resin incense - a gift, I think, but none there is suitable, being Native-American or New-Age. There is music there, softly in the background, sounding old but I cannot remember it. Many chimes. I buy her something.
I arrive at this woman's apartment, gift in hand, but as she opens the door, her mother blows past me, complaining about how "all this goddess nonsense has made trouble for the family". She is in her crone years, greying, strong, but not beautiful. She feels normal.
Her daughter, though, is a radiant, exotic beauty - golden skin, black silky falling into ringlets down her back, soft black eyes with a hint of fire, an exotic tilt. She is lithe, and lean - a dancer's figure and grace. Dressed in a imprinted white linen, delicate and fine - I have the impression of feathers from her, but do not know why. She sighs, and begins to gather what seem to be important things - small, ivory carvings of something. She tells her mother that the cycle will always go on, is never-ending; that she is sorry that she cannot be "normal" for her mother.
She acknowledges my presence, smiling fondly as she gathers things. As she moves, the same chiming sound I heard in the store comes from her swaying skirts.
Her sister joins us, looking similar to her sister, but softer, not so brilliant. Dressed in soft colours, rather than white. Her linen skirt is like gauze as well. Both sisters are lean and beautiful, with kohl-rimmed black eyes and hair...their mother seems out of place, very..normal, to have had such daughters. As if she was not like them at all.
The sister is ready to cry, and embraces the other, weeping. "I am sorry it will not end," she says. "Your husband is gone...find him again." The living goddess smiles softly, kissing her sister, and they all embrace. A flurry of motion happens, leaving the sister and the mother behind, and then I am with this strange goddess-woman and her ivory figures, in a car.
We go to leave, but we are getting shot at by men. They are all in black, and it is night again. We drive, moving to escape - She says "They must not catch us, or I will have to start again."...we drive down these hideous, modern-tangle streets...
And I awake.
-M.
