I’ll Rest When I’m Dead

The crush of work has eased up some, but still quite heavy. Most of my personal projects are completed. Can sleep easy now, but I’m still too tired to remember most of the dreams. Lemme close my eyes for a bit while the sun is shaded by this tree.

Wait. I’m outside?

I open my eyes to find myself sitting against an old tree. It’s a few feet across and the canopy is large and leafy. A gentle breeze has the branches swaying in whispering symphony. Past the canopy, I see puffy clouds lazing in the baby blue sky.

The ground under me is cool. Long blades of grass tickle my hands. A quick look around tells me I’m on the crest of a small hill. It’s peaceful here. I may be dreaming, but it’s an enjoyable dream. Ah.

“If you rest there, you really won’t rest. You need to anchor yourself or you’ll go off on a deeper journey.” The voice could be mine, if I was male. But the inflection is distinctly mine. I lift my head and peer around the tree looking for the speaker.

“Yes, I seem to have trouble with that of late.” I agreed with the speaker as I peered. My joviality faded as I spied a detail that I had missed the first time around. A gravestone, old and faded by time and erosion. A slight mound extended from the stone, just a few inches above the surrounding dirt, and devoid of grass or any growing thing.

The speaker leaned against the stone, ker taloned fingers resting lightly on the stone. Ke was dressed in all black, but not in mourning. It was just a color ke likes to wear. Ke smiled as ke saw me studying kem.

“What’s surprising you? Me? Or the grave?”

“Yes.” I pulled myself to my feet and walked around the tree to the grave. It felt familiar. Ke laughed at my response.

“You’re surprised and wary, but you came closer anyway?”

“If you’re here, then it’s something I need to pay attention to. So, here I am. Paying attention. The stone used to have marks?” I had knelt down and had started examining the stone with my hands.

“Tell me what else you know.” Ke moves off the gravestone and stands on the other side of the grave.

I lose my balance, pitching forward, and throw out my hand to catch myself. Of course, I wind up planting my palm squarely in the rise of the grave. Ke closes ker eyes and nods as I feel what ke already knows. This is my grave. And I am currently in it.

The knowledge silences me for a moment, as I relive my burial. No coffin was used, only lengths of cloth wrapped around me. No metal items were buried with me, intentionally. Only those things that would decay along with my flesh. A quiet burial, a final goodbye, with only the ageless tree to watch over the grave.

The stone had been marked before, but exposure and erosion quickly removed a knuckles worth of material from the surface. This too had been deliberate. Who I was, was irrelevant. The only thing that passersby should know, a person was here, and now is not. Do not fret over what little remains, for in time, even that will fade.

Returning to myself, I fall backwards away from the grave. The divided feeling persists, however. I am the passerby and the buried. I am the living and the dead.

I look up at kem, ke still has that soft smile. “Alright, you now have my full attention. What gives?” Ker smile widens as I speak.

“You need sleep, Keri. Restful sleep. You used to use an ocean shore to take you to the stillness of deep sleep, but the ocean has become filled with things that know your name, that seek you when you are vulnerable, and so onto another journey you go.”

“But here…”, ke spreads ker arms and makes a slow turn encompassing the hill, tree, and skyscape beyond. “Here, there is naught but rest.” Ke stops and looks at me wearing my most daring face. “Trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?” I remain sitting, with my hands behind me to remain steady.

Ke walks around the grave, careful not to step on the mound itself. Ke answers me with a steady and serious voice. “Yes, you have a choice.” Ke holds out ker hand to me. “This time.”

I look at the outstretched hand, so much like mine, but thinner and taloned. Without ceremony, I take the offered hand. Ke pulls me gently to my feet, and carefully leads me onto the mound. Ke lays me down on the chilled dirt, my head near the stone. It feels inviting, soft and reassuring. Ke removes ker cloak, and drapes it over me as a blanket.

“Sleep, Keri. No journeys will start this night, none will interrupt your rest. Let the dead speak to the living and rest.”

I started to chuckle as I had remarked to my daughter that my schedule was so busy, I would only truly rest once I was dead. Well then, time to eat my words.

When ke was satisfied I truly was going to take the instruction and sleep, ke changed form to a large raven and perched kemself on the tombstone. The bird’s talons gouged roughly against the weathered stone, allowing more freshly made pebbles to fall.

Despite the admonition to sleep, I couldn’t still my mind enough. I had many questions, but I knew this wasn’t the time for them. I was worried something would come, but the ageless tree stood silently looming over me, and ke kept watch from ker perch. Finally, I was able to relax and release my nervousness.

Then I heard something like a whisper. From inside the grave. Instead of being alarmed, I recognized it as my own voice, as the voice of a person I once was. I found solace in the voice, in what was said. I became as the dead, even though I was still living. I gave into the rest, and fell into a deeper sleep, leaving even the knowledge of dreaming behind.

~~~

Waking up, I looked about my room with a small amount of wonder. I remembered the entirety of the dream, and felt as if I had woken in my room for the first time ever. I teased about it on Twitter, and thought that was the end of it, but it demands to be written, and so, here it is.

Make of that, what you may.

~~~

A little side note:

What’s with “ke”, “kem”, and “ker”? Well, my companion is without gender, androgynous. To refer to my friend as “he”, “him”, and “his”, is an insult to kem, because even the “neutral” use of the English pronouns implies a lack of femininity. (Or I’m projecting, maybe a leftover of my Christian days.) And ke definitely has feminine traits. But ke also has masculine traits. And sometimes, the English language needs a little help to get things across. So:

• he = she = ke
• him = her = kem
• his = her = ker