Dream Journal: 2012-09-06.01

Memories, eh?” He held out a mug with freshly brewed coffee. I accepted with both hands and tried to move over to give him room on the stone that served as a bench just without the lair. Snake adjusted his gigantic body behind me so I would remain leaning against him.

“Memories of what was, what could have been, or what could be?” He sat down with his own mug of coffee. Sitting so the cliff wall was behind him, he faced the fire and sipped in quiet repose.

“You left out other possibilities. Memories of what is, what never was, or what continues.” I smiled at my cleverness.

“Sure you want to play chess with words? I thought you were just relaxing.” He was smiling into his mug. I couldn’t see it, but I heard it. I also heard an implied threat and decided this was not the time for headache-inducing riddles.

I nodded and acquiesced to my better. “Just… memories. They feel as real as blood when I’m in them. And by ‘in’ them, I mean ‘completely immersed to the point I know nothing about anything else until I return’.” He brought good coffee. Talk-a-lot coffee. “I don’t know the when or where of them. I only know the desperate longing to go back when I come back to myself.” Yes, very good coffee.

He nodded, but said nothing. He watched the fire with absent minded expression. “You’ve gotten better at tending the fire. Good.”

I nodded. I didn’t expect conversation (much). But a quiet night with a friend is always welcome. I sat watching the fire. Love seeing the ever changing patterns of whirls and twists in the flame. The occasional snap. The sound of air excited by heat. Fire is a comfort to me.

I don’t know when he started speaking. I don’t know the language that skipped my ears but swirled within me. I don’t know when Snake took the empty mug out my hands. I don’t know when I closed my eyes and his words slipped me away.

I only know some time later, I was laying on the ground before the fire, with Snake in naga form behind me. He was holding my shoulders on his coils, holding my head in an arm. With his free hand, he was playing with colors above me.

“A perfect rainbow circle. Neat.” He dismissed the colors when I spoke and smiled as he leaned over me.

“Time to get up.” I knew he was dodging questions. I sighed and nodded. I looked around but my guest had gone. As I sat up from his lap, I woke up and found myself sitting up in bed. I beat the alarm clock by a minute.

Make of that, what you may.


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