26 April 2012

I cannot tell when the dreams began any more. I've lived with them now as long as I can remember and wouldn't be surprised to learn I've had them even longer than that. The same nightmare visions of an alien landscape but at the same time all to familiar, whether it is the repetition breading the familiarity or some sort of strange omen I cannot say all I know is when I close my eyes for a nights slumber my conscious is subject to an all to real journey through a dark and strange world. I am not alone in this world either,there are many inhabitants, animal, vaguely human and others a ghoulish bastard congress of the two.

I always 'awake' into the dream world in the same place,inside a small dimly kerosene lamp lit cabin. The room of the cabin is sparsely furnished with a make shift bed covered with tattered yellow and brown, stained with age sheets,a wooden table that has seen better days and a single rickety chair neatly slid under the table. Opposite the table there is a fire place. In some of the dreams the fire is built with tinder and logs, other times the fire has been lit and I could still see the last guttering of dying flames still playing on the glowing embers. On those occasions I search the cabin and the surroundings hoping to find some one or something that would explain where I was or what I was doing there. But I have yet to meet with the occupants of the small shack in this strange land.

Since the age of nine or maybe ten, I've been brave enough to explore my surroundings. The shack sits in a small clearing surrounded on all sides by thick forestation, the massive gnarled trees blotting out all but the smallest of glimmers of night sky. There is how ever a small trampled path, barely noticeable, leading deep into the forest at the front of wooden cabin. The path obviously not made for any vehicle but one worn down by the tread of who ever uses the cabin in which I wake. The path is dark and winding but there always seems to be enough moonlight permeating the thick unchecked canopy of forest to let me see where I'm going. The path eventually leads down to a river. It is here where I realize the landscape is not real but some bizarre construct of my imagination. It has to be because the river, which is at least forty feet wide and leads off to my left and right further than I can see, is teaming with small silver fish, enough to think that if it wasn't for the lapping of water at the banks, the whole river was alive made of these small glistening things. At the river the trees have also thinned out and looking up at the obsidian sky flecked with stars in unknown formations there are two moons. One hued a dusky red the other the palest of blues.

Even though this imagined landscape is strange to me, the feeling of familiarity is unshakable and the sights, sounds of the millions of fish writhing on the river, the earthy smells of the forest and even the cool refreshing breeze against my skin does little to convince me of the unreality of my surroundings. Sometimes the sight of the river is enough to wake me, but as the years passed and my confidence grew I was able to touch the living river and even wade through to the other side. Though able now to traverse the living river, the feeling of mortal revulsion at the touch of the silver legion has never changed, as if my very soul was being probed and examined by an inhuman intelligence, a strange hive mind around me, knowing me better than I know myself. My sins, my fears, my griefs and insecurities all laid bare before some ancient presence. It's not judgement I feel from this scrutiny, more curiosity and maybe even pity. When I'm in the midst of the living river, with the small sleek silver fish brushing against me, I hear a voice deep in my head which is not my own.

"The lady waits."

I've given up trying to communicate with what ever intelligence relays this message for what ever I ask the message remains the same, not one voice but thousands,maybe more, speaking in perfect unison.

"The lady waits."

At the far bank of the river there are many paths trampled down, similar to the one leading from the cabin to river, some more used than others and the forest reclaiming the paths less travelled. With all the less used paths I have ever tried leading me to dead ends of impenetrable vegetation and all of the well trodden paths leading to clearings in the forest, it is in these clearings where I have spent the majority of my fugue journeys. One of the first marvels I found in my exploration was that some of the clearings have shrines in the centre, with intricately carved statues of what I assume are Goddesses. All of the statues are different, some are clothed in robes some bare chested while others fully naked. Though some of the naked statues with their meticulous craftsmanship show every detail in the female form, they never appeared to me as lurid or obscene. Without knowing the artists true intent I felt they were reverential in their depiction of the sex from which life comes. Some of the idols are carved in wood, others in stone, the most awe inspiring ones I've found however are hewn in some kind of crystal that looks like ice, but warm to the touch and through some trick of perception seems to catch the light from the twin moons, lending them an eerily beautiful iridescence. As different as they were, every shrine has the same motif on the plinth. The Goddesses were standing, reclining or on some cases even appeared to be giving birth to thousands of tiny fish. These fish which make the base of the statues must be the ones from the river and I can only hope the "lady" of which they tell me that waits is one off the enchanting Goddesses I have found, as surly the legion must have inspired the obsessive craftsmanship which held me such thrall. Not all the clearings have shrines in them however, some are vacant with dew weighing down the tips of the long grass and heavily scented, garishly coloured flowers. Others have small lagoons with dragonflies as large as field mice skittering across the surface of the perfectly still, clear water. All of the clearings share one thing in common, they fill me with such a feeling of peace and tranquillity.

Recently, just a few months ago, in one of my rambles I decided to head down stream in search for something new and unseen. I found, by comparison, a clearing that looked unremarkable. However on entering I noticed that the trees surrounding me weren't just dense, they grew side by side in a perfect circle without the smallest chink between them. When I looked up to the canopy ceiling the branches of the trees are so intertwined the sky is blocked from view. The pale blue light allowing me to see my surroundings, which I assumed was moon light, was in fact being produced by hundreds of cocoons dangling from the branch rafters of this living hut. As I stood there marvelling at the light show above me I noticed that the cocoons appear to pulse and swell, all of them in unison, like they were a single heart beating. With my eyes now locked on the swell of the cocoons, my breathing and heartbeat slowed down until it was in sync with the pulsing rhythm above me. My arms grew heavy as my knees felt weak, suddenly my legs buckled. Falling to the ground on my knees I sat there slumped, my body feeling like a dead weight as my head lolled backwards my eyes filled with the pupal light, wishing with all my soul to be part of that light, to be in one of those pods, to imbue myself with light and emerge as something new, something beautiful. Realising that I was now on the ground, I tried my best to move my arms to push myself back to my feet. This however proved futile as my body was now paralysed. Panic started to grow as my body refused to obey the order for the smallest movement, I couldn't even close my eyes against the hypnotising ebb and flow of the eerie blue light. Mustering all my will, I focused all my thought into pitching myself forward, in an effort to disconnect myself from the light, instead however I disconnected from myself. I fell forward relieved to be free from what ever locked my body down, but as I stood up and looked back behind me I saw myself still on my knees, arms by my side, head back and my eyes open wide staring to the heavens. Following my body's gaze I looked up to see movement in the cocoons hanging above. The larval casings were opening and some thing was emerging, insects, if you could call them that, but made entirely out of light. Hundreds of them all emerging at once, spreading their blue luminous wings, tentatively taking a few practice flutters before taking to flight. It's quite a sight, watching hundreds of electric blue dream butterflies swirl around in the air above you, leaving tracers of light in their wake. I stood enthralled once more by the sight above my head, however this time I could still move. I stood and watched as one of the butterflies ventured down, as curious of me as I was of it. Reaching a hand up towards the creature, it hovered as if thinking for a moment before it settled on my finger. I gently brought my hand down to study my new found friend a little closer. Instead if being made of pure light as I first thought it was made of tiny neon filaments that seemed to be in constant motion. It has a wing to body ratio of a butterfly and also had six slender legs but that's where the similarities ended. As I looked at the creature it looked back at me, the filaments of light shifting to form a face, a female face. Watching now in amazement I heard a voice in the back of my head again, only unlike the voice I hear in the river, this was a singular woman's voice. It spoke so softly, yet with so much authority. “You do not belong.” With that said the being flew straight at my face. I felt such a powerful solid connection as my head snapped back and I was thrown back into my body. That sudden shock woke me up and I wept. I'm still not sure why I cried, whethe

isntitnotSomewhere Between Spirit And Flesh • Opuss № I