Skin Deep

We were sitting side by side, my friend and I, watching the campfire outside my lair in silent contentment. He was playing around with his latest trick, and unnerving me completely in the process. He teased me about it, noting that only his appearance had changed, so why was I upset? I turned to try to explain my weaknesses, and found myself staring into a bleached white skull with a feathered headdress. I tumbled away from him in shock.

He was laughing so hard, he lost control over the appearance. I shook a fist in true anger, then started laughing myself. As many forms I’ve personally taken on in my dreams, should I really be surprised when my companions do the same as well? “Alright, smart ass. Do it again, I wanna see!” He finished laughing, raised up, and shook himself violently. The skin peeled off his head in long strips and straightened into colorful plumes. The skull brightened on exposure and he hissed at me in what was supposed to be a frightful display.

But now that I knew who it was, I clapped my hands and laughed delightfully instead. He stopped hissing, but retained the appearance. With a somber voice he asked, “What if you didn’t know it was me? What if I came up to you like this without preamble. Would you still be clapping and laughing?” It was a fair question.

“You’re not a child, to be surrounded by the bright and the pretty. You know life isn’t like that. And neither is death, nor the worlds in between. Considering the path you are on, the bright and the pretty is going to be less and less. You may see me like this again. You may see me in other forms. You have others that are waiting on you to get over your culture-hammered avoidance of death, dirt, and disease. You are not a child, my friend. And soon, you’ll have to stop acting like one.”

He remained in that gruesome skeletal form while talking to me. He did allow me to stroke his large skull. It was dry as it was white, but it was strangely warm. I recognized the pantheon the appearance is from, but not the god he was mimicking.

“Why did the ‘svartalf’ first appear to you small and lesser? So as not to trigger a fearful reaction. But now, how does he appear to you? Taller, larger, and physically stronger. When I first came to you, how did you see me then? And now? As you mature, your view of the worlds will change. Stop allowing fear to be your first reaction.” I nodded in mute agreement.

When I looked up, I saw his form had changed again. “And another thing. I’m going to keep looking like this to you, until you get over it. I know why it bothers you, and I know the excuses you tell yourself to avoid dealing with it. I’m just waiting for you to figure it out.” He wrapped himself around me, even as I started to shudder from my fear. It took me a long time before I could relax into his grip and accept his comfort. Once I did so, I was able to fall into a deeper sleep.

Make of that, what you may.