Random Wibble. Also When I sleep my neurons play odd games IX...
I am always intrigued to know how people see each other.
For each person is like a crystal with many facets and most people when they see someone will be standing so close or in such a light they can only see a single facet or two, never the whole, and they think that all they see is all there is. Mostly this is vexing. Sometimes it's glorious too, in a painful sort of way.
(If you have ever been close to someone, close as a breath, close as a kiss, you can - if you've sight enough to look - see your reflection in their eyes. See you through their eyes. And I always hate that.) Sometimes because I know some piece of cleverness or spite on my behalf has always and forever coloured how they view me, and I wish I could change their mind, show them I can be better, yet know that they won't see it, and fear that maybe after all they're right. But more often because the reflection I see is something they love, and I know I am not nor never can be what they see. Sometimes I hate me most when I am loved dearest.
My cousin (who I saw again at my brother's wedding and had not seen since we were both young and much family drama was going on) sent me a round-robin email that was a recipe swap. A meekle idea, but it caught me at a bad time, so I hadn't the energy or thoughts to join in. I told her my life was a little mad - interesting but mad - said sorry and expected she'd be a little disappointed but that would be that. She wrote back -
A pinch of grace,
A dash of space
A gift from above
A swirl of love
Xx
Raven you are beautiful
I am glad no recipe
xxx
And I don't know what it was she saw, either at the wedding or in my brief lines of writing, but I feel like a cheat. Like she caught a glimpse of some very small facet of me and graciously thought that was all there was.
=======
I dreamt I was Ash, living in the Demon Age in a London that was rather post-apocalyptic and filled with weird. She/I was kinda ill because our Territory was poisoned - the land was spiritually dead. I was trying to rebuild Rkliesh's Scythe (fuck knows why, but I guess Ash had her reasons. I think maybe it was the key to bringing him back: he was the only one who knew how to heal the land and, by extension, was the only one who could heal Ash).
I had the sword from the tomb of the Unknown Soldier, shards from the Fang of the Nine Tailed Fox, and something that changed shape between a rusted bayonet, a poisoned quill, and a fragment of bone scythe blade. I also had a time limit, a lot of people chasing me, not much Essence, and an arch enemy with livid orange eyes. (He was very powerful and could possess people. You could tell he was trying to possess you when you started to see everyday objects turn bright orange one by one; when everything you saw was orange, you were pretty much his puppet.)
There was a lot of crazy hand-to-hand fighting of evil zombie-spirit-things and much swearing and trying to turn to air and fly away when I noticed the colour orange. I'd like to point out it's very hard to turn to air and fly when you have no Essence.
The dream got very fragmented since I kept waking up, but I remember getting to somewhere like Stonehenge and doing the spell that would forge the Scythe. I think there was also then being over-run by zombie spirit things and knowing I'd probably die. And then there was an eclipse-worthy explosion of a very specific shade of green-gold and Ash no longer had the Scythe - but she knew bloody well who did and, despite being battered broken and outnumbered, just started to laugh like a crazy thing...
I like that as a coda to her story. Thank you, Morpheus =P
For each person is like a crystal with many facets and most people when they see someone will be standing so close or in such a light they can only see a single facet or two, never the whole, and they think that all they see is all there is. Mostly this is vexing. Sometimes it's glorious too, in a painful sort of way.
(If you have ever been close to someone, close as a breath, close as a kiss, you can - if you've sight enough to look - see your reflection in their eyes. See you through their eyes. And I always hate that.) Sometimes because I know some piece of cleverness or spite on my behalf has always and forever coloured how they view me, and I wish I could change their mind, show them I can be better, yet know that they won't see it, and fear that maybe after all they're right. But more often because the reflection I see is something they love, and I know I am not nor never can be what they see. Sometimes I hate me most when I am loved dearest.
My cousin (who I saw again at my brother's wedding and had not seen since we were both young and much family drama was going on) sent me a round-robin email that was a recipe swap. A meekle idea, but it caught me at a bad time, so I hadn't the energy or thoughts to join in. I told her my life was a little mad - interesting but mad - said sorry and expected she'd be a little disappointed but that would be that. She wrote back -
A pinch of grace,
A dash of space
A gift from above
A swirl of love
Xx
Raven you are beautiful
I am glad no recipe
xxx
And I don't know what it was she saw, either at the wedding or in my brief lines of writing, but I feel like a cheat. Like she caught a glimpse of some very small facet of me and graciously thought that was all there was.
=======
I dreamt I was Ash, living in the Demon Age in a London that was rather post-apocalyptic and filled with weird. She/I was kinda ill because our Territory was poisoned - the land was spiritually dead. I was trying to rebuild Rkliesh's Scythe (fuck knows why, but I guess Ash had her reasons. I think maybe it was the key to bringing him back: he was the only one who knew how to heal the land and, by extension, was the only one who could heal Ash).
I had the sword from the tomb of the Unknown Soldier, shards from the Fang of the Nine Tailed Fox, and something that changed shape between a rusted bayonet, a poisoned quill, and a fragment of bone scythe blade. I also had a time limit, a lot of people chasing me, not much Essence, and an arch enemy with livid orange eyes. (He was very powerful and could possess people. You could tell he was trying to possess you when you started to see everyday objects turn bright orange one by one; when everything you saw was orange, you were pretty much his puppet.)
There was a lot of crazy hand-to-hand fighting of evil zombie-spirit-things and much swearing and trying to turn to air and fly away when I noticed the colour orange. I'd like to point out it's very hard to turn to air and fly when you have no Essence.
The dream got very fragmented since I kept waking up, but I remember getting to somewhere like Stonehenge and doing the spell that would forge the Scythe. I think there was also then being over-run by zombie spirit things and knowing I'd probably die. And then there was an eclipse-worthy explosion of a very specific shade of green-gold and Ash no longer had the Scythe - but she knew bloody well who did and, despite being battered broken and outnumbered, just started to laugh like a crazy thing...
I like that as a coda to her story. Thank you, Morpheus =P