I fell through a thousand worlds. Through winters and summers. Through solid rock and open skies. Silks and furs and iron couldn’t hold me. Plastics and biofilms and networks couldn’t catch me.
I had no place in any of them.
I fell through a thousand worlds in the blink of an eye and landed on my feet with a splash. The water embraced my feet and ankles as I came to terms with the sudden stillness. The ground underneath me accepted the burden of my arrival and held firm.
Spanish moss hung from the unmoving trees that framed my view no matter where I looked. A pair of eyes reflected my wonder before blinking under the surface. The gator moved indifferently into depths I could not see. The damp air covered me with the scent of tenacity that could be the striving of life or the patience of death.
I recognized what world I had fallen into and smiled. It has been a long time since I was in the swamp. Even though I did not recognize a single tree, current, or marker, and had no idea how to get to the places I did know of, I was comforted to be here just the same.
I would not be in the Swamp if the Swamp’s master did not allow it.
I just have to find a different way to his table from where I have found myself.
I meant to take a step to begin that journey. Suddenly exhausted, I fainted and fell where I stood.
The mud caught me as if to say that I will fall through no longer. The water covered my face and the dream ended.
I wandered through rocky hills, past outcrops of bedrock worn smooth by wind and made brittle by wildfires. The wind suddenly collected a pile of dead brown leaves at my feet. As I watched the swirling, I realized the wind had collected more than tinder.
I reached into the pile and pulled out something both small and large, both heavy and light. It attempted to form itself into whatever I was thinking of at the moment.
But I knew it wasn’t mine to keep, much less alter. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-06-22.01”
The unyielding floor boards pressed into my knees, alerting me that I was not in my room anymore. My black feather cloak moved with my hands as I brushed my fingers over the worn blemished wood.
A series of small bright flares caught my attention, and without looking up I knew I was surrounded by a multitude of candles. Some were tapers and some were pillars and some were tea lights and some were salvaged. All were pressed tightly together and had obviously been burning for some time. The wax runoffs pooled together to create a sealing ring around me.
I looked up. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-05-17.01”
It started with a private tarot reading in the home of the client. While the deck’s message to the client was encouraging and only slightly chiding, the deck’s private message to me was I should go straight home at once and not look “to the left nor to the right”. As I was paid (in full), I heard a commotion coming from the street before the home, so I planned to make my exit via the back door. The shouts at first sounded like an argument, but as they came closer, I recognized the tones of ecstasy. I did not want to be caught up in that today. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2015-10-04.01”
Me: “Thank you for [doing the thing]. Especially since I said you didn’t have to follow through after I couldn’t keep my end.”
Rummer John: “Nonsense. I promised you I would [do the thing], and that’s just what I did.” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2015-08-01.01”
He leaned against the signpost on the crossroads that suddenly appeared before me. Looking every bit like the embodiment of a bad idea on payday night and drawing on his cigar like it would quench feverish and hot-blooded thirst. “Hey Girl… where ya headed?”
I came to a full stop in front of him. I suppose I should have shown more manners, but fuck it. I’m just following his lead. I eyed him up and down like I was considering drinking what he was pouring before rolling my eyes in rejection. “Lemme guess. Not to take care of [The Fucker of Son’s] request.”
He bounced off the sign with unusual quickness and took my arm with excessive gentleness. “Girl, you’re so sharp, I’mma cut myself.” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2015-05-20.01”
“You made it. I did not think you would accept my invitation.”
The ridden man lurched as he struggled to walk towards me. The audience looked at me in worry and wonder, as I was not counted among the celebrants, and was standing in the section reserved for tourists and photographers.
I lifted my hat slightly in greeting and bowed my head just enough to be rude about it. “As if I could ever refuse an opportunity to be obscene. Though I reserve the right to bitch about your timing. I have some work to attend to tonight.” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2015-05-17.02”
“So you wear a hat, now. It’s pretty. Frames your face well.”
It took me a while to recognize who was speaking. Watching him pour the guilt-dark fluid into the chipped glasses didn’t help. Smelling the arrogantly sharp blackstrap rum, did.
“Yes, Sir. I finally found one to my liking.” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2015-02-20.01”
Rummer John ran his fingers over the one token I must wear at all times. The mark of [the one] that crowns me. The one god that actually owns me.
“So, Girl. Tell me about [certain future plans]. Are things still going to go as you think they are?” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2014-12-15.01”
Seeing that Marian icon so soon after waking up is not helping the brain meats. Not even recounting Mom’s bullshit from yesterday is helping me be all the way here. No neat plot line to follow, just a bunch of apparently unconnected scenes. *CUT* Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2014-10-12.01”