Mr. Sandman bring me a dream . . .
I had a dream with such terrible clarity last night that I woke up from the pain. The physical pain I suffered in the dream, clawed it's way into my waking ribs.
I could tell you where most of you were, where you were standing or sitting. Who you were laughing with, what you were drinking. The fire was bright and hot and there were discarded pizza boxes in it. I could just see the logo burning off the box.
I could smell the forest. Feel the person sitting next to me. Feel his warmth, that not quite touching warmth. The one sent to guard me. Keep me from harm.
I remember her crying. Such a terrible sound. High and lost like a baby.
The looks on your faces. Telling people that I couldn't go in anyone's car because the blood would stain the seats.
I am not afraid of it. I am sad for it, because it will cause much problems.
I do not believe it will happen as I dreamt. The path of fate shifts and shimmies like heat waves. Just by typing this, or telling it to the Hippie when he came in to say goodbye this morning, may have changed the path.
But I do think something will happen.
It was a night of deep magic. I am raw and tired to the bone. I gave much of myself to another last night. We met in dreams, but it wasn't as clear . . . it is blurry and faded. But Puck dreamed the same dream, of a meeting, so I believe it happened in the way oneiromancy does.
Full of mysteries . . .
I could tell you where most of you were, where you were standing or sitting. Who you were laughing with, what you were drinking. The fire was bright and hot and there were discarded pizza boxes in it. I could just see the logo burning off the box.
I could smell the forest. Feel the person sitting next to me. Feel his warmth, that not quite touching warmth. The one sent to guard me. Keep me from harm.
I remember her crying. Such a terrible sound. High and lost like a baby.
The looks on your faces. Telling people that I couldn't go in anyone's car because the blood would stain the seats.
I am not afraid of it. I am sad for it, because it will cause much problems.
I do not believe it will happen as I dreamt. The path of fate shifts and shimmies like heat waves. Just by typing this, or telling it to the Hippie when he came in to say goodbye this morning, may have changed the path.
But I do think something will happen.
It was a night of deep magic. I am raw and tired to the bone. I gave much of myself to another last night. We met in dreams, but it wasn't as clear . . . it is blurry and faded. But Puck dreamed the same dream, of a meeting, so I believe it happened in the way oneiromancy does.
Full of mysteries . . .