To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

So I have some imagery rattling around this skull of mine, and I’ve got to write it down and capture it before I start mumbling as I do my day job. It probably doesn’t help that I’ve been so tired lately, I’ve stopped dreaming. I know most folk don’t care if they dream or not, only if they have nightmares, and even then they quickly banish the imagery by the time they have gone to take the morning piss.

But for me, after three days of not dreaming, not even the regular nonsense dreams, I’m crawling up the wall.

It’s been seven days since my last lucid dream. Five days since my last nonsensical “normal” dream. Mix in one solid afternoon of “fits”, and I’m on eggshells here.

Tried for a nap this afternoon. Wound up involuntarily walking the ecstatic path again. The details of which, I am not at liberty to post here. It involved the usual imagery of late. Ravens. Psychopomps. Bones. No fire, this time. Oh, wait, yea it did but not the bone-fire. A few twists that I’ve seen coming for a few weeks, so when it hit, I wasn’t shocked. One twist, I did not see coming, but put much into place.

My path, it has changed completely. But y’all saw that long before I did, didn’t ya.

“So, Keri, you did sleep then?” No. Path-walking is not sleep. I’ve been told by watchers that my body could be as relaxed as a deep sleep while path-walking, or tensed up to the point I look like I’m fitting again. Hell, I probably was. My eyes could be wide open, watching you as you walk about the room, but I’m not inside that skull. I know one watcher, asked me questions I should not have had answers to, and I answered him clearly. Much like an oracle. I try to be careful who is around me while path-walking, for very obvious reasons.

Back to the topic. The imagery that has shaken my can enough for me to speak of it. Allow me to remind you of this evening’s path-walk: Ravens. Death. Psychopomps.

I get to the computer afterward, wondering why I was taken on such a wild and impromptu ride, and started clearing out the backlog of RSS feeds, messages, and emails. And what is the first thing that pops up on my screen? Raven. Death. Psychopomp. Graveyard Dirt: Two Worlds and In-between: Tourist Trap Crow. I was halfway through the article, absolutely engrossed in the (very gross) details, when I made the connection.

Someone once told me, “There are no such things as coincidences.”. Well then.

Make of that, what you may.