Dreamer-of-Legend

Back in the days of my youth, I was constantly beset by nightmares. Not the sort you see with Freddy Kruger, those mean claws of his and the weak minded kids he tore limb from limb, I mean real nightmares; the sort of stuff you wanna tear your eyes out and pour acid into your eardrums to escape the sensory overload. A pure and primal, instinctual fear so connected to your spinal column a mere thought can kill you.



During these intense nightmares (these are the ones most people wake up screaming but cant remember.. lucky bastards) I couldn't escape, I could wake up from them, but as soon as I went back to sleep it would begin again, so I learnt to just ride them till the roller coaster stopped at the gates. That was until I found tuition within this otherworldly realm.



My first tutor was a Caribou, a sort of deer with spiraled horns and a brown & white coat (of fur not the stylish human sort) and this Caribou taught me how to run. Not like the 100m in under 10secs but more like the world whizzing by like a blur and sound can't catch you up. We raced till the world around us was made of a pure white light, we raced till you couldn't see where you were but only where you were going. This dream was short, maybe lasting a few minutes at most, and it was one of the first dreams I enjoyed, I awoke feeling great the next day, powerful even. I must add, I was expecting to be able to run faster yet was disappointed somewhat, I could only run better.



My second tutor was a voice that only sounded within my mind, familiar yet strangely unknown. It told me to run, and you know that feeling you get when something nasty is chasing you- well the voice conveyed that with accuracy and complete unwavering solidity. So I ran, without looking back for I knew I was running for my life. The world around me once again went white as I broke through barriers a physical body would tear itself apart at, then I saw ahead a abyss; depth unknown, distance 3.8kms. Shit. I hadn't learnt to stop. Just before the abyss the voice said " Jump", having no other option I agreed. I remember the feeling of moving through the air, so free, smiling even, then landing to find there was abyss after abyss to contend with. I jumped higher and higher each time clearing the gaps, sometime only just, other times by miles, then the dream ended. I awoke once again invigorated by the lesson, more confident and sure of myself, I also had a massive urge to jump off something high.



The third Tutor I came in contact with was a Biker. He looked a lot like Bam Bam Bigelow from the WWF back in the days of Hacksaw Jim Duggan and Macho Man Randy Savage, when Hulk Hogan was the MAN and the Ultimate Warrior wasn't gay. The Biker had flames tattooed on his bald head in red, orange and yellow. He had a pot belly and more flames on his forearms starting from studded leather bracers at his wrists and burning up to his elbows. His black leather jacket had seen many days, and the white singlet he wore hadn't been washed-- ever. Blue Jeans and Black Snakeskin boots finished the ensemble. His Bike was a beauty, fully chromed bar the flame emblazoned gas tank and mud guards, it sounded like a Harley Davidson that some deviant had injected adrenaline into then brought it to life with a bolt of lightning. I stood atop a Pa, somewhere in Northland. I had been speaking to a Tohunga there about dreams and their meanings, when the Biker arrived. I hadn't seen him pull up, but as he sat arms akimbo on the black leather seat; through his dark sunglasses I could see he was looking at me. His face was cold and expressionless, his only acknowledgment was the raising of his chin and a brief upward lift of the eyebrows. To my left the Tohunga stood his tokotoko held in both hands before him, stepped back and literally disappeared, smiling in anticipation.



The Biker motioned for me to follow him, he kick-started the bike and took off at full tit leaving a trail of grass and mud sailing through the air in a rooster tail formation. I sped off after him, smiling at the challenge to race such a worthy competitor. He was fast but not quicker than me but at the moment he was supposed to go down the steep grassy hill to the foot of the Pa, he instead looked back at me and smiled, gunning the accelerator fully. His bike moved immediately faster and upward, away to the left. I wasn't phased, I ran faster and leaped off the edge of the Pa. It was now I decided to shit myself, I realized how high up I was and how deadly the trees below seemed. I began to freak watching as the ground came closer and closer when a blast of the Bikers Engine caused me to look up at him. Instantly I shot off towards him faster than ever before. And so I had learned to fly and the dream ended, but the smile lasted for days.



From that day on I have always looked up to the skies, hoping that today is the day when I find that secret switch within my being; the switch that says "Flight Mode On".



Anthony Toia

The Original Dreamer of Legend