It’s a dream, but not filing this as a Weaver dream. More like an expression of my subconscious that I’m dodging because sometimes fuck maturity.
I’m in a place of complete darkness, held fast by a multitude of hands that I can only feel. The entity of those hands can not make sound, and I can’t see it, so we are at an impasse with communication. It can hear and understand me. I just can’t hear/see/understand it.
We start off with a pat on my right hand for “yes” and a pat on the left hand for “no”. From there we work out a touch language that allows it to answer my questions rudimentary, but doesn’t allow for it to ask me anything in return. Then a chance sliding of one hand over the other generates sound and I hit on the idea of making whisper like sounds using cupped hands as a sound box.
My right hand is vigorously tapped before several hands gently hold my throat and cheeks so it can study how I make sounds. After getting over a brief panic, it is able to make whispers right next to my ear.
“Hello. It is good to be able to talk to you. Can you hear me clearly?”
Before I can answer verbally (I was wiggling happily in its grip at the clear success), a piercing light divides the darkness, blinding me. I feel myself being grabbed forcefully from the entity’s grip and I hear the whoosh of directed flame.
I protest at the quite rude interruption, but my new captor moves quickly to move me away from the darkness.
“Ungrateful human. You were in the hands of a demon of darkness and instead of giving praise for your rescue, you would abuse the angel of light that lifted you?”
The glare still blinded me, but I could see hints of feathers and the gleam of golden armor.
“Yea, well once upon a time, someone told me that the only difference between an angel and a demon was perspective. And considering that the entity I just left was not hurting me, but finding a way to communicate while holding me safely, while you are too busy talking shit about me, I’m a little hard pressed to believe your claim of being an angel, and the claim that what you stole me from is a demon. From my perspective, you are a kidnapper and a deceiver, cloaking yourself in light to avoid being seen clearly.”
The so called angel shouted with a great cry and the brilliant light extinguished. As the light fell, so did I, as the creature no longer had the ability to hold me.
I fell out of the dream.
I’m sure there is a puzzle in plain sight. Something about the power of belief, and the power of disbelief, but it’s too late at night for me to be plumbing rabbit holes.