Hunted

I am just beyond the border of the backyard of a very old house. Beyond the border of the backyard is land planted with very old trees. In and around these trees are dark elves, there to kill me. They blend in with the trees, their skin, hair and clothing, a prism of gold, tan, olive and dark brown hues. They are there to kill me. One of them is not like the others. Her hair is obsidian, her eyes are obsidian. Her soul is obsidian. The mischievous smile stretching her mouth from ear to ear, is filled with malice, the glint of the black stone that is her heart. She tells me she is the creation of an artist I knew a long time ago, in a very old life. I walk past the dark elves into the house. They are there to kill me.

I am inside the house right now. There is hustle and bustle as preparations for nightfall, the time of mischief and murder, are made. Even my father is there for protection, and he is never there. My mother stands at the back door, fear wrapping its gnarled, gaunt claw around her mind and heart, suffocating her with its predatory menace, as she beholds the dark elves in waiting, some high within the trees, others crowding just beyond the border of the backyard, waiting to kill her daughter. She asks me to leave and go to a new house faraway, but I won't because I can't, because I am afraid to be without their protection, because I know the darkness would follow, because too, I am bound to the curse of that place.

In the window of the back bedroom, the bedroom closest to the back yard, is a mammoth demon elf, blue of skin, red of eye, frightening. His voice is the rumble and roar of thunder, it echoes and reverberates like a legion of lost and suffering souls, like a multitude of minions, tortured, tormented and damned. Every time I enter that room I feel trapped, seized, his face looming and stormy, imminent and terrible, rushing in upon me, wanting to devour me whole. My heart is filled with terror.

Suddenly a bunny made of clouds makes its way from within the throng of dark elves, around the back of the house to its far side. I sense something is secreted away within it, and yet its stealthy movements suggest that it is there to steal something from me instead. The bunny made of cloud climbs through a window on the far side of the house, makes its way through the heart of that building and leaves through the back door to rejoin the drove of dark elves just beyond the border of the backyard. There he offers them his secret, and two of them help to remove from his mouth what was hidden deep within his belly, a blue and white candy cane covered in blood.

The dream is lucid. There is a face beyond the window. The curtain takes the form of a spectral wraith. Hands made of darkness suddenly grab hold of mine as I try to close the window shut. Suddenly a giant sentient sunflower entity, holding itself very humanoid - the flower its head, the leaves its arms, the stem its body and the roots in a shallow pot of earthe its feet - is in my room. It has a benign presence. Then a giant sentient hawk entity appears in its place, its flapping wings, sharp beak and claws, and glinting, fiery eyes aggressive and its presence is malevolent. There is always, always, always a presence. Thus the dream ends and I awaken ...