Dreams

Now, we've all had some weird arse dreams right? Dreams that are so...wacked that you just have to go what the -hell-?! and wonder where they came from?

I bet you, that no matter how spastic or random your dreams are, mine are worse. Take for example, the dream I had after I went to bed after my previous post. There's me, laying in this bright orange desert, gazing at a seam in the sky, a jagged scar in the very fabric of the cosmos and wondering why I can't focus when it was imperitive, VITAL that I focus on the ground...

About a half hour of dreamtime, when my vision is swimming, drifting in and out of focus on this tear in reality before I manage to register anything else, and I realise that I'm arguing with a female voice that is me and not-me at the same time.

"Some great power you have, you can't even focus."

"Why do I need to focus?"

"Concentrate! You'll need this."

"Need what?"

"To focus! You can't even drag your gaze from the tear to the ground, where the -real- danger is."

"Hush your mouth."


Then a dark skinned being enters my preferial vision, I turn my head slowly, lazily, woozily, to try and focus on this...blurred thing. It gets closer, I can hear it rattling, from the shells, bones and whatnot on necklaces and things strewn over its body. It picks me up, carrying me back to somewhere while I drift in and out of consiousness. I wake up, focus enough to realise that my carrier is seated, holding me in their lap while they search through a bag. I reach for the bag too, automatic but my hand it swatted aside.

They pull out something, it is cold, and feels slightly...slimey on my skin when they press it against my forehead. I blink, my eyes watering as I suddenly notice an immense carved city rising out of the sand, miles high towards the orange sky. Carvedof ivory...or some other substance that looks like highly polished ivory.

The something is replaced in the bag and they open a...hatch in the wall, sort of like the parcel slot for mail, and slip in, beckoning for me to follow. It's large, so I do so easily enough, but on reaching the other side I lose consiousness, the world tilting as I fall to the ground, an odd lack of sound....even my head hitting the floor produces only a muffled thud.

I wake, hours, or maybe day's later, in a bed....of sorts. More of a hammock, only it's not made out of any substance I can recognise, coarse, yet smooth...rippling like water beneath my touch. I blink, my eyesight fuzzy as I strive to focus but all I can see are moving blurred shapes in any distance further away than my toes. Conversely, I can see the weave of the bed/hammock clearly, sharply, like it was magnified before my gaze. One of the dark shapes moves towards me and I tense, uneasy, worried....but fall unconsious again.

I wake again, with a splitting headache, but my vision is clear and I can focus. The blurred shapes resolve into dark skinned people, a glossy black, like...tar, or ink. Black, well polished wood springs to mind as an apt representation. But whatever you like, they were....breathtaking, yet earthy, beings of the land.

Regardless, it turns out that the one who found me was a witchdoctor of sorts, rather high up in the social hierachy. And since I didn't freak out or become nasty or something along those lines, I've gained a fair amount of respect from these ...people. Once my head had healed, and I was no longer woozy, having dizzy spells, I could wander around freely. A rather simple society, by today's standards, yet unbelievably sophisticated in others. They have very little modesty for instance, they shower out in the open, all together...albeit it's each gender to their own section.

Speaking of genders, there was about....four, I think. Something like that, since a wedding was a very...complex affair. I had to attend three, and each took about...six hours to complete. That's the saying of the vowels in their chattery, bubbly, birdsong-like language. It was rather nice to listen to, the language that is, and I somehow managed to understand enough to get by, but I was by no means fluent in it.

Regardless, minor details aside, the politics of the place meant that there were those that didn't like the fact that I was friends with the witchdoctor, and those around him, the rulers of that odd city. And arranged for me to have a fall....down around three stories. No idea how I survived it, but I nigh on broke my back when I landed, and I was there, sprawled on this wall, dangling down either side of it, semi-consious and furious, until the witchdoctor finds me. He gets angry, when I tell my tale, and they get thrown out while my back heals....well, them permenantly, but I wasn't really mobile.

And as I drifted in and out in a pain filled haze, I woke up. Like, properly woke up. My back was still hurting though. And all through the day, i've been getting twinges, well, more than twinges...more like, sharp stabbing pain, in my lower back, where I dream almost broke it.

Note to self, don't dream-hurt yourself. It hurts in real life too.