Streaming tears … I upped from pillows in an aimless direction, wildly flinging my gown out of my way, so I could run … then stopped suddenly … in the blur washing over my eyes .. I was not in the place I thought I was. … Confusion took over the terror although I could still feel the treacherous pain coursing through to my bone. What was it, where had I gone? I stumbled a bit … Then there it was, the relief of the warm sensation coming back … walking from my bedroom I could still feel it working it’s miraculous way through me calming the piercing pain like a soothing elixir. The sweetness of the sensation was now becoming palatable as I allow it in welcoming.
He’s still here. Whatever had tangled me up in the night was a dream. Oh how real it seemed like so many others. But how should I dream so now, with a whisper so softly crooning in my ears as I fell off to sleep … only to be plummeted off into wretched sorrow …
“… walls replete with sadness crying all around me, lying in heaps at the bases, weeping women. But their tears were falling up the walls as if trying to send the ache up into heaven itself. They went on for miles these poor souls and the room seemed to go on forever. How beautiful they were as I watched them in pensive curiosity. Some in long billowing skirts others in old muslin. I could not see their faces for all of their lovely heads were covered and turned towards the walls. The sounds of their torment began to overwhelm and I began to scream and cry out … as I fell to my knees in shaking they started to turn towards me. My screaming stopped abruptly in gazing, wide eyed wonder at what I saw … all of the faces were my own, the eyes looking back at me were mine, looking at me imploringly to not succumb but to rescue me, or them or us. Beauty once cherished now discarded and held captive in grief. The sound of it rang loudly in my ears. Like a symphony gone horribly wrong screeching … I began to run to them and away from them even flinging myself to the floor in an attempt of escape. As I did so the pain only intensified and I thought we would all be ripped to shreds from it … “
No wonder I jumped awake, anyone would with a dream resembling a John Malkovich moment! Quivering … I walk back to my bedroom to take notes, clearly these dreams are the ravings of a mad woman. Or they are trying to tell me something. I certainly have no intention of going back through my own portal for discovery. Aghast at how these horrors find their disruptive way into my sanctuary. Pangs of hunger rumbled, but I had no desire for actual food, when another wave of pleasure washed over me. The warm wonderful glow of knowing he is there is satiating. In preparing for the day I begin to ponder; dreams, secret things our minds feel in fears not acknowledged. Or it could be a safe way to reveal unhealed wounds with some passivity. The tiny child within me recalled yet another dream that lived in real time which required passivity on some level to survive the trauma. A pang welled up in my throat. The sound of weary women weeping everywhere haunts me as I force myself into the moment. I can feel the essence of my ancient master calling me into this new day. Eagerly, my heart is open in immediate anticipation. So many blame my poor dear for their inability to contain themselves when he is around … not his fault for he always tells the truth. His mighty secret will soon burst from me and heal them all in my telling of it. As the warmth of the current tenderness inspires me, my dream is set aside but not forgotten. Feeling refreshed and excited, I allow the crooning energy to call me out. I can feel you passionate stranger. Oh how delicious is your recipe. Almost a distinct impression that someone was going to make me dinner. Knowing full well there are others who are hungry too waiting for me to share. My abundant cup overflows to sustaining in the care of this glorious company, with no sign of foreboding dream as we sit down to dine, I am supplicated … leaning in to dare a glance across the table … my eyes are finally met … And to the sound of his voice … Passion burns a hole ... right through my veins … feeding me more from broken ….
to be con't