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    Amurehna

    Quelling the Storm

    by , 11-05-2014 at 02:39 AM (659 Views)
    In the beginning we were in a house that seemed familiar but didn't happen to be a place I had ever visited. On the wall behind me, stretched a large picture window, almost taking up an entire wall, except for the door to its left. Someone is telling a story, and quickly the telling becomes reality. The house became ill-lit and cold. A dark brown curtain still covers the window but the window itself is broken. I took a peek outside, and see that the landscape is devoid of life, all dark grey dotted with the crumbling black husks of plants and debris. Though it is midday, the sky remains heavy and overcast, with the horizion a barely distinguishable line in the distance. I drop the curtain, reminding myself that it this is how it was before, just after the storm. Now the landscape is alive and green and the clouds blown away. I settle onto the floor next to two other women, one of them the storyteller, the other a dream relative. The three of us are wearing drab colors, all browns and grays, all of us in long skirts and sweaters and thick scarves. Of course. It's cold now. I lean back on a mound of dirt underneath the broken window, then realize there is dirt on my sweater sleeves, sit up, and brush away the rust-brown particles.

    She tells us a story about a girl that I knew when I was young named Des. She was my next-door neighbor all the way through middle school. Here it becomes a little...convoluted. It's very difficult to separate the details because, as you know, events can seem to happen before, after, and also at the same time as other things.
    As the storyteller speaks, I find myself once more transported to the time she speaks about, so now I am at a wide island across from the unbroken picture window. The door is cracked open.
    "Des, now moved to madness by her time in the storm, darts past the open doorway, and ducks in for just a second, gasping a curse. She sounds breathless with terror. Her eyes are wide and they sweep the room, "Fuck." she says again.
    I turn to find her fleeing from the doorway, I call out after her. I hope that I can bring her back to herself, that I can change the story, which dictates that though she ducked in and cursed, no one was quick enough to catch her and that some time later she was found dead at the top of a hill. I think that I have missed my opportunity...but then she comes back. I almost wish she hadn't. Her unseeing eyes dart restlessly around the room. Des does not respond to anything I say.
    I get a sense of how she came to be this way. The storm bore down on the world, an endless and violent torrent, but it did this slowly. It descended from the atmosphere in great sweeping movements, taking its time to reach us, its presence moving people to madness and previously unwanted notions. "And in the end, Des fled to the hilltop to meet the storm, hand in hand with her older brother. They kissed each other goodbye and consigned themselves to the storm. I see it then, a great sphere of dark grey swirling clouds, shooting lightning at random, descending onto the hill. That was how she died, not how she became insane. I have a moment of clarity, and try to put together the prophecy into poetic verse but I can't seem to make it worth. "The end will come when these truths subside, when brother and sister together lay..." And then "The parent will be taught by the child."
    I see her in the week before the sphere ravaged the landscape. She stands by the kitchen island, a steak knife in front of her. Afraid that maybe she means to take her own life, I wait until she is distracted by the front door opening to take it from the counter. Des screams in a terrifying way, eyes stretched so wide that they are mostly whites, pupils shrunk to pinpoints, her hands out in front of her in disbelief.
    "I'm sorry." I say, startled by her reaction. "I'll give it back. Just tell me what you need it for."
    "KNIFE." Des responds in a low, fervent voice.
    "Yes, why do you need it?"
    "KNIIIIFE."
    Well, that didn't work. I hand the utensil back to her, she holds it in both hands and sits back on her heels, staring at the thing intensely. We don't really have time to deal with her. Now there is a moment where she is both alive, and she has already died. i think that I don't have time to deal with her craziness, and become aware of all the people in the room. They are, at first, saddened by her state of mind, and then that she has died.
    There will be a procession soon. I feel out of place here. I spot a pretty woman in a wedding dress, she has pale skin, black-brown eyes and curly black hair. She has fallen down and I go to help her stand, but by the time I get there, someone is already picking her up and heading for the door, she throws her head back and laughs. I then notice how many brides there are in here, and that we are all preparing for a mass wedding procession down the main street of town. The numerous bridal parties and their guests will walk together and then the brides and grooms will be joined under a clear patch of sky. There is suddenly a weight in my chest, a vast well of sadness and bitterness and unwillingness. I am standing by the door, waiting for people to clear away from it so I can step outside. There is a man in a black pea coat, wearing thick grey mitts.
    "Hey, you okay?" He asks me. We don't know each other, I appreciate his concern though...
    "It's...I just noticed how many brides there are." I scan the room and find five other women. My own situation is so complicated. He presses a mitted hand to the center of my chest, just below my collar bone but above my breasts. Like with most Liam-echo encounters, I can feel the fabric of the glove, the slightly scratchy wool and the cool bite of the snow dampness on my skin. With this casual comfort he has quelled the storm in my chest, replaced with a pulsating feeling of well-being and lightness. It's beautiful. I sigh with blessed relief and raise my eyes to his face. He gives me a kind smile...there's something familiar about him. Because of his coloring I immediately want to compare him to Liam, though this man's eyes are ice green instead of blue and though he also has red hair and fair skin, his face is not nearly as angular as Liam's.
    "I would be happy to walk with you." He says, assuming that I am part of the bridal party (he isn't wrong) but have no one to walk with in the procession. I can't tell him that isn't why I'm sad. It's that I'm getting married tonight, but I don't want to be, and seeing all these women so happy to be on their way to joining with their fiances is like a spike in my chest. I can feel the weight coming back...but his hand is still on my chest and it disperses the depression like mist in sunlight. I rest my hand on his chest and he smiles, turning his eyes back to the room. I worry that this has gone on too long and will become awkward, but I'm loathe to give up this new peace. So our hands remain. I notice that we are preparing for a picture. I move my hand, gripping the side of his coat and move to, maybe, rest my head against his thick coat-arm. Instead I fall through the gap between his coat and the goddamn door which is still cracked open. I nearly go head over heels, one leg kicking high as I grab his coat and the door frame, I notice that I'm wearing a long dark purple dress. I lift myself to my feet. They snap another picture.
    I worry that my fiance (my WL boyfriend) will hear that I told someone I had no one to walk with. I go over what I just said in my head, trying to figure out how many people heard me, and what it could do to our impending...wedding. I decide what will be, will be.

    Oh, I forgot something but I can't remember where it fits in. One point, after Des had gone mad, but before she died, we were all standing in the house and one of her brothers (in real life she only had one) who was a martial artist was posing in the middle of the room. I was impressed by his manliness....hahaha
    I also want to add that today at work, when I started to feel overwhelmed, I recalled that release of pressure and my mood would temporarily stabilize. It's rare that my subconscious gives me gifts like this.
    Keitorin and CanisLucidus like this.

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    Updated 11-07-2014 at 07:57 AM by 54746

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    Comments

    1. CanisLucidus's Avatar
      Amazing dream all the way around. Incredibly well-written too!

      The premise behind the apocalypse was really chilling. It wasn't just your typical birds and snakes, an aeroplane, and hey look, the world just split in two. Here the apocalypse just sauntered up right out in the open, took its sweet letting the world dread what was coming. (And presented people with some awful choices.)

      I drop the curtain, reminding myself that it this is how it was before, just after the storm. Now the landscape is alive and green and the clouds blown away.
      I really like this part. The entire dreamscape turned into a metaphor for how you're the one who ultimately wields all the power in your dreams, even if you can't even recognize it in the moment. Just a little change of viewpoint, a fleeting thought, and the whole world changes.

      With this casual comfort he has quelled the storm in my chest, replaced with a pulsating feeling of well-being and lightness. It's beautiful.
      Oh man, what a beautiful encounter! I love that you were able to take that moment and that feeling back with you into waking life!
      Updated 11-07-2014 at 06:36 AM by CanisLucidus
    2. Amurehna's Avatar
      I really appreciate your comments, Canis. =) Even if I don't always reply.

      My subconscious likes to make the apocalypse as horrifying as it can and as you know that doesn't always mean that the world is annihilated with one strike.

      That encounter was so different from anything I usually get. It is not usually a person gifting me with solace, but a sight or an action. Like, leaping into the sky and rising, rising, rising. Or witnessing a dream landscape so fantastic that it turns my mind away from the troubles of my waking life.
      CanisLucidus likes this.
    3. CanisLucidus's Avatar
      Hey Amurehna! Sorry that I missed your comment. And I appreciate your DJ entries, even when it takes me ages to see you comments.

      That encounter was so different from anything I usually get. It is not usually a person gifting me with solace, but a sight or an action. Like, leaping into the sky and rising, rising, rising. Or witnessing a dream landscape so fantastic that it turns my mind away from the troubles of my waking life.
      Moments like these are so nice to bring back from a lucid dream. Not only do they feel good (sometimes even for days afterward) but I find that they're an awesome help to my daytime work. I love riding that gentle swell of dream memory when I consider the world around me and reflect on whether it could all be a dream.

      Very interesting in this case that instead of a dream experience, he gave you a distilled emotion and sense of comfort. Feeling is everything. It sounds beautiful!