.waxing.crescent. dream journal

[lumenrelegandus]

[text: -handwritten. Using Forge as tablet and wand as stylus. Handwriting, scrawled, is an echo from what's gone, semi-translatable glyphs of an inaccessible land: he's still half-asleep. But tries to capture that last clinging moment of a dream]

of the dawn from ^come the dawn
they float away
breathe again
float away
the Door opens again someday

Comments

text.

[lumenrelegandus]

[more normally: typed]

I may have made some adjustments.

text.

[lumenrelegandus]

The adaptation was not to the machine, as much as…

I guess I hesitate to say. Or at least am uncertain how best to explain over a forge. [and having done it instinctively while half-asleep, he needed to reconstruct exactly what he'd done] If you'd like to meet at the dojo-I teach there four days a week-I could show you.

[impossibly]

Without a bottle.

[lumenrelegandus]

[in the same encouragingly friendly and not even slightly patronising tone he'd use for Neville Longbottom when mumbling] What was that, River?

[impossibly]

It's missing. We'd build the little ships out of matchsticks. I... they hurt inside, they hurt and now they're touching the scars and remembering.

[lumenrelegandus]

[He will, as is usually true, sometimes say "I don't understand" to her; but avoids it if there's something more specific to latch onto to clarify] Who hurts inside?