So last night I dreamt I had to go outside for some bum-fuck reason at midnight, and upon doing so, I looked up into the cloudless night sky.
There, directly above me at the moment of astronomical midnight, was the New Moon. It was backlit as if it were a solar eclipse, but the light surrounding it was just enough for me to recognize that the New Moon was there.
And in the center of the New Moon was the unmistakable glow of the planet Venus.
“That’s nice.”, I muttered upon realizing the physically impossible conjunction. “Yea, sure, there’s room for a planet to fit between the Moon and the Earth, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be standing here much less alive while it happened, because gravity is a hella bitch like that. Not to mention the planet would take up a lot more of the sky than a pretty prick of light. Furthermore, New Moon means you’re on the wrong side of the ecliptic, bitch. So drop the pretenses and tell me what’s good.”
I was answered with laughter.
Bright and giddy laughter.
Like what comes after a good practical joke is discovered and the prankster is relishing in the chaos and wonder of the victim.
Now, what I write next is what came to my senses first. I do not know if it is the correct thing to write, or even if it is relevant. But even after several hours of coffee and wakefulness, the impression won’t leave me. I blame my varied RSS feeds for the exposure.
Venus, the Sybil Queen of Dreams & Darkness, revealed herself to me in the blink of an eye. Looking hella like Glinda the Glitter Good Witch of Oz, but in hues of silver and white, the planet itself was the star point of her staff and all the constellations of the sky were caught in her dress.
She stood upon a sliver of moonlight, and behind her the rest of the New Moon darkened to reveal an entirely different universe/world. As if the unspace of the New Moon was the entryway to her realm.
Somehow, without asking or being told, I knew that space was under some mountain somewhere. I thought the mountain’s name but held my tongue. This could all be the result of some undigested lettuce or cultural contamination.
“Not your fandom?”, asked the Good Queen. Again, this is a moniker I did not assign, but felt pressed upon me.
“I am starting to resent that word, Madam. And no, not my fandom, Madam.”
More laughter. It sounded the way delicate glass shatters. Enchanting and terrifying at the same time.
“You’re straying.”
My turn to laugh. “According to who? Everything is permitted and nothing is forbidden. It’s only a question if I want to deal with the consequences. Tell me, Good Queen, how am I straying?”
“You are leaving questions unanswered. Assumptions, unchallenged.”
Eh… she’s right. I am. Intentionally. Because I can’t deal with the consequences of just having the answers, much less what those answers mean.
I bowed in sincere agreement. “I am. And if that is straying, then I agree I must stop. Not acknowledging the obstacles are present will not remove them.” I looked around at the blackened night sky. I tasted a memory or two of the last time the sky looked like this in my dreams. “Good Queen, if I may be impertinent a moment more…”
“You may.”
“Are you truly… “ A dozen names lept to my tongue and for all my arrogance I found I could not speak a single one of them. “Are you truly the Sybil Queen, a representative of her, or a mask being worn by someone or something else that knew this would get my attention because of my complete lack of participation in that fandom?”
She laughed.
The sky shattered but the pieces remained in place like safety glass after impact. Through the cracks, shims of light worked their way through, prying and warping the broken darkness, aggressive in their attempts to reach me.
It has been a long time since I felt terror.
Terror is a salty sweetness on the tongue. I found myself savoring the emotion and my responses to it.
She shrieked one last peal of delight.
The pieces of the night sky collapsed. The light of the Midnight Sun fell upon me and crushed me out of the dream.