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    Amurehna

    Drawing Stone 3/23/2013, Azela Grey (nap dream)

    by , 04-02-2013 at 04:45 PM (625 Views)
    The room feels wide and open. Ahead of me is a stone tunnel. From where I'm standing I can't discern any details. As I focus my eyes, it becomes more detailed. I start to describe it to myself and it becomes. I'm delighted, thinking how it's like drawing, I see it in pencil shadings first, before it becomes real, and the image flows more smoothly than any drawing I have ever created.
    When it is finished the stone is a mossy deep brown, wet with rain. I can't figure out where I've seen it before, but it feels so familiar. There are stairs leading up to a platform that sits to the right side of the tunnel. I start looking for something there but I no longer recall what it is.

    The Poisoning of Azela Grey
    I had a dream at midday, telling the tale of Azela Grey. I'm watching a news report, showing footage from a live Council meeting. She had fought for her spot as a Speaker, and a woman, which was something spectacular in its own right. She's tall, with dark shoulder-length hair. She's wearing a light gray business suit with a white shirt under the jacket. The council meeting is built like an amphitheater. A platform at the center where the primary 5 sit, and then 4 tiers of gently curving wood tables with seats where the rest of the Council sits. Azela sits in the last ring, of the least importance. The meeting is about to commence, she takes a sip. My awareness pulls back, showing a pixelated tv screen, a red band at the bottom.
    "The Poisoning of Azela Grey"

    I'm driving down a highway. The road is impossibly fast and crowded. A woman on a tiny black motorcycle that has a regular sized cream/tan motorcycle folded up above the back wheel speeds past me. I think how awesome that is and wonder where I can get one. She looks like this actress http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1490300/. A moving truck doesn't see her and moves lanes. I'm worried about her, so instead of getting hit, one of her wheels breaks off and she skids to a stop on the shoulder under an overpass. I go over to see if she needs help. Now she looks different, a tall brunette with wavy hair and olive skin. I separate from my character and I see myself from behind. I'm tiny next to her, the top of my head only just reaches past her shoulder.
    I have shoulder length black hair. I'm wearing a white denim jacket and a brown dress with boots. Even with short hair I recognize her as Saja, I become her often. It seems perfect that she would stop to help someone, she's always thinking of others.
    "Can I help you?" I ask her.
    "Don't worry about it, this isn't your problem." She glances at me and does a subtle double-take. I know she thinks I'm attractive. I stand there patiently. She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "Fine, I guess I could use some help."
    "Perfect! I'll help you get the cycle into my van."


    It skips to a grey, dim-lit room. On one end is a photographer. On the other is a two foot high, smooth white statue shaped like some kind of bird. The idea is that this is therapy, and in expressing my depression...on top of the bird, while someone takes pictures, I'll be able to feel better (riiiight...). I am Azela Grey, I no longer look like Saja. I'm taller, my hair isn't black but still dark brown, wavy and is a little longer. I'm wearing a dark brown dress with tiny white flowers, knee length boots and a netted brown jacket thing. The statue looks a little like a duck now. My photographer therapist urges me to begin.
    The stress of the campaign has taken its toll. There are dark circles under my eyes and I look like I haven't smiled in a long time. My awareness pulls back and I'm watching myself pose on the duck. After a few flashes my friend from the highway comes to join me. She presses her body against my back and runs her hands down my sides. I smile. I know I shouldn't. I have a girlfriend. Plus, now there are pictures.
    She has been trying to show me how to enjoy life again.

    I'm walking down a cobbled street, it's dark with the recent rain. I duck into a bookstore. It's small, with 5 long tables. Tall bookshelves line the walls. There is only one book. It has a dark blue jacket with yellow on the front. Sometimes the yellow looks like flowers, sometimes like angelfish. Sometimes like stars. I can't make out the name either. Sometimes it looks like Seascape. Sometimes Starsea, sometimes Starscape. I open one of them and flip through it. I can't make sense of the text.
    I think of how eroded our culture has become under the weight of the law. How this bookstore should have the freedom to sell more than one book. I suppose that's what my campaign is about, freedom. Now I have made a serious miss-step. There are the photos of myself and the woman. If they see those they could ban me from the council.
    When I leave the bookstore my girlfriend is outside. She throws the pictures on the ground in front of me and leans forward, red with her effort not to yell.
    "What are these? WHAT ARE THEY? After EVERYTHING we did to be together, to keep our relationship a secret you let some half-wit photographer take pictures of another woman groping you? These are all over the papers! AND there's mention of me! Why did you tell them about us and then take these pictures? This could ruin my career!"
    She's a doctor, it's strange enough for a woman to be practicing medicine, now her license could be taken away because of my mistake. She storms off. I stare down at the pictures and gather them in my hands.
    Behind me there are two steeply arched stone bridges that cross each other like an X. A man in a tux and top hat is narrating my story. He's telling a group of people who are singing and dancing under string-light decorations that it's sure I'll be banned, they might have listened to me on the council before this. They may have even passed the laws I suggested, but never now.
    He talks of a time when people could love whoever they wanted.
    Then he tells the part that hasn't happened yet, that as they are about to ban me, someone poisons my tea because of hatred for my sexual orientation, and the laws I wished to pass.


    Huh. I've had dreams as men before, I've never had one where I was a lesbian. How interesting...

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    Tags: bias, lesbian, saja
    Categories
    non-lucid

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