Of Owl and Water, Tower and Tree

I am in the tower of the School of Life. I want to skip class to go and help my friend who is being bullied. I ask to go to the bathroom. The School Marm tells me to use the bathroom upstairs, so I cannot slip away. I go to use the bathroom upstairs.

I come back to class and announce before everyone that it is flooded, and request to use the bathroom downstairs. Succinct and terse, the Matron of the School allows me to go downstairs. I slip from the tower, and run into the surrounding forest.

There, I rescue my friend from her bullies. Upon returning to the School of Life, I discover a colossal tidal wave about to crash into the top of the tower. I enter and run up the stairs and run down the corridors. It is dark. Students are in the halls and passageways panicking. I can hear their footfalls and confusion and screams.

I enter my now empty classroom the moment the wave hits the tower, slamming into it with the force of non-existence. It rips off the classroom door, and thrashes around the teacher’s desk, behind which I am now hiding. It tears alongside washing away the furniture of the classroom.
It does not touch me. From the top of the tidal wave a round gargantuan feathered head rises. It is Spirit. It is totemic. It is Owl. Her body, large and round, is covered with feathers of dark, iridescent blue, highlighted with hematite, flecked with pearl.

Her chest, home of the chakra of the heart, is covered with downy feathers of pure white light. Her talons, beak and eyes are a luminous, shimmering gold. She emerges entirely from the wave and gives chase. I turn to run, leaping from the tiny tower window to the meadow far below and into the forest.

I hide amongst the resting flower faeries. I hide amongst the sleeping mole babies, snuggling up against their mother as if I too were her baby. Owl seeks me. She sees me. She finds me. Owl is the Seeker of Truth … The Seer of Truth … The Revealer of Truth. She reveals me. I cannot run from Truth. I cannot run from myself.

In every dream, the dreamer is every power. I am the power of Truth. I am the power of Owl. I am the power of my bullied friend. I am the power of the School Marm, the Matron of the School of Life. I am the power of the forest. I am the power of the Tower.

I am the power of the tidal wave. I am the power of the power of the flower faerie. I am the power of the Mole Mother, and of her baby, and of myself. I am the power of dreaming, and thus The Dreaming ends.

Brightly-spun wonders,
Rev. Faemore Lorei <3.~

Killcount

Mandy and I are at the bottom of the ocean, on the bed of the sea. The waters are filled with squids and jellyfish and octopi, gun metal grey, rabbit red eyes. We kill them all to death, until the waters are red and black with blood.

We are now in prison, we are now in court, we are now in custody, held hostage by our actions. The court house is underwater, the very scene of the crime. We are asked if we are responsible for the death of the creatures. We lie ... I lie. She lies. We all lie together.

They ask us again. They ask us one final time. We cave. We give. We speak truth together. We are condemned. We are sentenced. We are imprisoned beneath our watery grave. I wake.

Race of Blue Berry Strawberry Fruits

I am a little man, a young boy, a small youth. I am running a big race, a race against the world, a race against time. I run through trees, grasses, clouds. The clouds are wet, the grasses are fuzzy, and the trees are ripe with strawberries and blue berry fruits. As I break through the trees on the path run, I am triumphant, and plucking a blue berry, strawberry fruit from the lowest branch of the last tree, I cross the threshold and end.

Hot-Pink Hyena-Dogs

The Dreaming is attacking the dreamer. I am trapped between a wall of tall cliff and a wall of tall water. It slams into me, darkly, deathly. It bludgeons and bullies me, batters and beats me, until I am barely there. I am a mere whisper of who I once was. I am a meager echo of what I once could have been. I hold a life in my hand, young, innocent, fragile. Not unlike my own a very long time ago, and not unlike my own right now. The life is a kitten’s and I must breathe for it … even as I cannot breathe for myself, between the crushing, smashing weight of those walls. It presses me away. It presses me inland. It presses me home. It presses me to end.

I hang on.

We are inside. We are within. In the gullies of Dream. We are being chased by hot-pink hyena-dogs through the wood and through the trees. My babies are here. My kiddos. My charges. I don’t know how to teach this subject. We run. You cannot fall behind. It is as simple and as impossible as that. You learn it fast. You do it faster. We wade a river. We slip inside the back entrance of a hotel in the middle of the forest. We must find the man, who has the answer to a question, who has the key to a lock. The hyenas slip inside behind us, through the cracks in the windows and doors, through the wood of the rafter and the black of the basement. We must reach him, before they reach us.

We do.

Hotel safe, children safe, dark defeated for now, answers gotten and forgotten, keys kept only to be lost … I awaken.