Shadows and dreams.
May. 14th, 2003 11:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
witchscauldron"I'm a shadow!" - long story. :p
I went out last night to the LARP at the university to hock my cheesy wares. Sold a bracelet - wasn't a total loss. I saw some folks I hadn't in a while...mostly it was good because I could flit between rooms, and wander the grounds a lot.
Champlain College at Trent is eerie when it's summer, and there are no students. There's lights on, but nobody home, so to speak. The place reeks of patchouli. The Great Hall was dark, hollow like some great womb. Oddly comforting, even though I was alone.
I wandered outside, sat by the water, casting apple petals and periwinkles and wishes out onto the river's flow to be carried on. The water moved smoky grey, had a strange viscosity. It called. I felt as if I could just slide underneath its surface and stare unblinking towards the sky while that viscous spirit pervaded my entire self...and never come up again. The sky was steel grey, windblown and reminiscent of home.
Later as it got dark I began to spend more time out of the buildings away from the LARP, and out in the commons between buildings. The wind was whispering, a half-heard conversation like poetry, and I knew I was lost at that point. Feral. I walked in places between the light..comforting shadow. I looked up at the sky, softened by cloud and rain, and saw the thin ghost of the moon held there, shrouded. A ring of rainbow iridesced around her...and I craved so long to let a howl ring off of stone and concrete, to let this small bastion of education and civility be touched by the wildness all around it. Somehow, tho, the walls held my tongue.
As I went farther back, the fields opened before me. Standing by the river, all you could hear was the rushing of dark waters, the chattering branches, newly green, pushed by the north wind's coming. The whispering poetry under that current got louder. There was barely light, only the vague moon overhead, the river, a birch tree, and myself.
Myself was not human, at times. My self sat and pawed at fresh earth, smelled the smells of a place left almost to itself, of emptiness and patchouli and darkness. The birch tree writhed overhead, and I asked her if I may have a garland of her. There came the sound of windchimes, in an empty field, and I thanked her and took my boughs. I thought of full white moons, like her bark, as I gathered them, and remembered old stories of herders making birch hoops, so that wolves may jump back through them and become men again.
I wandered back towards the LARP - but I didn't lose any sense of the feral self as I normally might. I didn't attempt to shake it off. I merely sat, a mixed being, watching people move. Interesting, for a time. I wandered again, until the LARP ended, and I could go home.
For some reason, tho, I said I'd go out to the pub with people...not sure why. The pub is solid people when we get there..I sit on the edge of the table, hovering. When Jason arrives, I am overwhelmed - I feel the need to flee, and indulge it. I sit in the car instead, for some time. I reflect on how stupid it is to be lonely but only wish to be alone. I reflect on how awful it makes me feel to be unable to socialize in a group. I loathe myself. I cry and wonder if this will ever change. Eventually, Jason and I go home.
A long, odd night, all in all. I slept, and dreamed of sleeping in my grandmother's living room, staring out the big windows at the full moon. The whiteness of the room is odd...not normal...but I am covered in blood, and ashamed of whatever it is I have done. Blurred memories, sensations of the island outside...and I desperately seek a cleaning product. But it is then I realize that I cannot clean the blood off. It is woman's blood, and sacred, and it ties me to the moon, and what I am...and suddently I am proud. I awake.
-M.
I went out last night to the LARP at the university to hock my cheesy wares. Sold a bracelet - wasn't a total loss. I saw some folks I hadn't in a while...mostly it was good because I could flit between rooms, and wander the grounds a lot.
Champlain College at Trent is eerie when it's summer, and there are no students. There's lights on, but nobody home, so to speak. The place reeks of patchouli. The Great Hall was dark, hollow like some great womb. Oddly comforting, even though I was alone.
I wandered outside, sat by the water, casting apple petals and periwinkles and wishes out onto the river's flow to be carried on. The water moved smoky grey, had a strange viscosity. It called. I felt as if I could just slide underneath its surface and stare unblinking towards the sky while that viscous spirit pervaded my entire self...and never come up again. The sky was steel grey, windblown and reminiscent of home.
Later as it got dark I began to spend more time out of the buildings away from the LARP, and out in the commons between buildings. The wind was whispering, a half-heard conversation like poetry, and I knew I was lost at that point. Feral. I walked in places between the light..comforting shadow. I looked up at the sky, softened by cloud and rain, and saw the thin ghost of the moon held there, shrouded. A ring of rainbow iridesced around her...and I craved so long to let a howl ring off of stone and concrete, to let this small bastion of education and civility be touched by the wildness all around it. Somehow, tho, the walls held my tongue.
As I went farther back, the fields opened before me. Standing by the river, all you could hear was the rushing of dark waters, the chattering branches, newly green, pushed by the north wind's coming. The whispering poetry under that current got louder. There was barely light, only the vague moon overhead, the river, a birch tree, and myself.
Myself was not human, at times. My self sat and pawed at fresh earth, smelled the smells of a place left almost to itself, of emptiness and patchouli and darkness. The birch tree writhed overhead, and I asked her if I may have a garland of her. There came the sound of windchimes, in an empty field, and I thanked her and took my boughs. I thought of full white moons, like her bark, as I gathered them, and remembered old stories of herders making birch hoops, so that wolves may jump back through them and become men again.
I wandered back towards the LARP - but I didn't lose any sense of the feral self as I normally might. I didn't attempt to shake it off. I merely sat, a mixed being, watching people move. Interesting, for a time. I wandered again, until the LARP ended, and I could go home.
For some reason, tho, I said I'd go out to the pub with people...not sure why. The pub is solid people when we get there..I sit on the edge of the table, hovering. When Jason arrives, I am overwhelmed - I feel the need to flee, and indulge it. I sit in the car instead, for some time. I reflect on how stupid it is to be lonely but only wish to be alone. I reflect on how awful it makes me feel to be unable to socialize in a group. I loathe myself. I cry and wonder if this will ever change. Eventually, Jason and I go home.
A long, odd night, all in all. I slept, and dreamed of sleeping in my grandmother's living room, staring out the big windows at the full moon. The whiteness of the room is odd...not normal...but I am covered in blood, and ashamed of whatever it is I have done. Blurred memories, sensations of the island outside...and I desperately seek a cleaning product. But it is then I realize that I cannot clean the blood off. It is woman's blood, and sacred, and it ties me to the moon, and what I am...and suddently I am proud. I awake.
-M.
