Saturday, December 29, 2012

is there a world you long to see?

"'I am half-sick of shadows!' cried the Lady of Shallot."

He has forgotten how to dream in patterns and repetitions. All his dreams consist of fits and starts of worlds half-imagined and are mixed with wakefulness and shades of night-images.

He awoke one night in a cold sweat, and started sobbing. It is at night we are our weakest. Our mothers always told us nothing good happens after midnight, and so often they are right. It's best to fight the demons of the night by the sweetest shield given to us: sleep.

He had dreamed of snakes surrounding his bed. Evil, slithering creatures besieging him in his rest. Invading his dreams. 
And while the images had faded with his sleep, the terror of the beasts was as palpable as the dryness of his tongue. The sides of his mouth had turned to ash and were crumbling beneath his teeth. He screamed silently into his pillow and felt the tears fall down his cheeks. Hot little streams of water that burned like the air of the late July night.
He dared not close his eyes. And he dared not keep them open, unless the terrors of the night invaded them as well.
He longed to be back asleep. It seemed the horrible terror would not end unless he lost consciousness, slipped away from the world of night shadows and back into silence.

If only, he prayed feverishly, I could find a new way to dream.

He had forgotten what water tasted like, but he remembered how it felt. It washed over him, and he buried himself under the covers and waited for sunrise.

"I have begun to dream in a new language. My imagination seems to sculpt the landscape. Images flow between the inner and outer worlds, and I can no longer determine their point of origin."
--Mary, On The Verge

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