~Dul isteach (Entry)

The first time It came to me I was 9 years old.

It was in a dream. My dream. My dream that I created and I controlled. I was having tea with Unicorn. Unicorn was one of the only beings I could be myself with. He knew everything. Everything I could do. What I was. There, in my garden with him, I was clean.

The clearing was secretly tucked away among tall, ancient trees. They sang sometimes. It was so beautiful. There was a gentle stream that cut the forest in two. It spilled over rocks and fed into a shallow pond. We were seated at a round, wooden table draped in the finest of purple silks. I adored that color. Rust and gold Lantana flower clusters were scattered about the table and ground.

"So, fairest warrior, what would you like to do today?"

"I think I'd -"

I paused when I noticed the silence. The trees had stopped singing. I didn't ask them to. And the birds, and the breeze" Just the stream and its quiet rush moved in the stillness. Then the sickness came. I looked at my tea cup.

"Unicorn, what kind of tea is this""

"Why your favorite, chai."

"I don't feel well."

I looked up. The branches were moving, weaving so tight above that the sky looked a distant shade of pale blue and the sun was no more. I looked at unicorn, but he wasn't at the table anymore. He was by the side of the stream. There was blood trickling from his eyes, like tears. It stained his beautiful white fur such an ugly color.

"Unicorn! You're bleeding!"

"Am I""

He was starting to cross the stream. I really felt sick then. He shouldn't go over. He couldn't. I didn't want him to. But the Dream wasn't going my way. I knocked my chair over in a rush to get to him. I didn't make it far before I fell. Or was I tripped" I stood up but the Earth came alive. A gnarled root burst through the soil and wrapped around my ankle.

"Unicorn!"

My cries to him went unheard. He was nearly across already, just about swallowed by the thick layers of mist. Mist' But there was no mist in my Eden. It curled around tree trunks, serpent like fingers reached out to the bank of the shore on the other side. A strong breath of wind carried the stench of decay. The opposite shore was now covered with Shades.

"Let go!"

I commanded the root. It listened, as it should. I stumbled to the shore and into the water but Unicorn was lost among the darkness. A twig snapped somewhere across the way.

"Hello""

Nothing. I moved further into the water. It was lapping at my knees now, pulling at my pretty dress. And as I searched the shore for my beloved friend, I saw It. The shadows seemed to pulse around it like a beating heart. Its eyes were red, bright. The water was very cold now against my skin, it hurt. My stream was warm, comforting, and I made it so.

"I didn't invite you. Who are you? Why are you here""

"Tsk, tsk. Such manners," A long pause, ""and such talent."

The darkness swayed from side to side as if it was shaking its head at me. Red eyes twinkled. I tried to be brave, but I was scared. The sickness was still there, my stomach rolling. I wanted to run, to wake up, but I wouldn't leave Unicorn until I knew he was okay. And as much as I wanted to wake-up, I wanted to stay.

"Who are you?"

The air shifted, it pressed against me making it hard to breathe. It was Power. Control. I fell back into the water. It rushed over my legs and waist. My dream was mine no more.

"The Keeper of Dreams, of Nightmares. Dreams you, Precious, have been playing in. Uninvited."

My heart was pounding against my chest. I had no control. I didn't like it. The ground was now barren and black, ashes drifting all over sticking to my skin and hair. Smoke seeped from scorched tree trunks and pooled above creating colorless, gray clouds.

"But they're mine."

A child's quiet, half hearted attempt to argue. It laughed at me. I wanted to cry. I wouldn't.

"Which is interesting."

Still, there was that quiet rushing hum of water. It wasn't water anymore, but blood; warm and red, a sharp contrast against the colorless background.

"Where is Unicorn""

A paw" A claw" It gestured through the shadows upstream.

"A parting gift, Precious. My playground is yours. For now."

Red eyes flashed brightly before winking out. The darkness seemed to fold into itself until It was no more. A noise drew my attention to the right and a choked cry from my lips. Unicorn's severed head floated down stream, bobbing in the bloody swells between rocks. I stared into his empty, black eyes as he drifted past, hot tears smearing ash trails down my cheeks. I watched his head dip down the small decline and drift into the crimson pond. I crawled to the bank and retched.

A few years later, I killed someone.

(Credits: The Nightmare Keeper is an original character created by S. R. Miner . Used with permission. See- http://www.rhydinica.org/wiki/doku.php?id=kymeera)

~Dul isteach (Entry)

James Michael Ramsey.

He had the most striking green eyes I'd ever seen. They glowed with life, of promises yet to come. Like emeralds, they sparkled whenever he laughed. He played a huge part in several of my adolescent firsts. First friend. First kiss. First dreamwalk. I'll never forget watching that glow fade then wink out of those green eyes as he died.

It was a beautiful day, that day. The sun was out. The air fairly crackled with the approach of Beltane. New life. Harvest. Fertility. The walls were at their thinnest. Everywhere. I should have been more careful.

Jamie and I were at the glen, taking advantage of the warm weather. The water was frigid, but we would have done anything to get out of chores, especially this time of year. Sneaking off seemed the thing to do on a day as such. We raced several times. Jamie had the advantage of long arms and a powerful reach, where I had agility and speed. That wonderful feeling of weightlessness, relaxation, and unlimited energy kept us in the water until our lips were blue and our hands and feet resembled wrinkled prunes.

Morning had slipped away into afternoon and taken most of that endless energy with it. Hearts hammering, limbs aching we climbed out of the water to lay in the sun on the large rock not to far off shore. Jamie lay flat on his back, arms folded beneath his head. His eyes were closed, ankles crossed. I was on my stomach, elbows propped beneath me. I didn't mean to fall into a melancholy mood, but as I looked around this place it reminded me of my Eden. I returned there a few times hoping to find it just the way it was before He ruined it. But each time I was greeted with ash, scorched trees, and blood. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get anything to change back.

"You're ruining my nap. I have plans when I get there."

I looked over at Jamie. He had one eye cracked and was peering at me.

"Sorry."

I looked down and away. He tugged my hair.

"Why don't you join me?"

I looked back at him. He still only had that one eye open, but there was this grin now. One of those grins. How could I fault him for his thoughts" We were laying there in our underwear. Wet and alone.

"James Michael Ramsey."

He laughed. Both eyes opened. Those emerald eyes twinkled.

"In here."

He tapped his head. He didn't know the extent of my abilities. Just the bits and pieces I chose to share because I knew I could trust him. I had never attempted enter someone else's dreams before. I wasn't even sure it was possible. All I knew was what Rhona had told me, and that lacked validity. How hard could it be though' She said all I had to do was to have had met the person, establish some kind of a link. Emotional, common like/dislike, something like that. Obviously the closer the person was in nature or location the easier it would be. Physical contact of any kind should always work. But she couldn't do it so how did she know" How did I know"

Jamie had rolled up on an elbow now, facing me, crooked smile and all.

"C"mon. Just try it."

How could I refuse that face"

"No promises."

I pointed at him. He grinned again and kissed my cheek before flopping onto his back again, arms behind his head. It will always amaze me, the talent that male species have to be able to fall asleep anywhere in a matter of minutes. All I had to do was wait for the dreaming to begin.

Dreams have a lot to do with mental energy, what a person is looking for, thinking about when they fall asleep. The more specific it is, the sooner the dream happens. There is a certain kind of energy that comes from people when they dream. That's what I see and feel. Being so close to Jamie, it was easy to pick up on that energy. It rolled off his body and over mine. It was elemental, airy, and coming from a teenage boy, blatantly sexual in nature. It was fairly easy for me to step in. A thought really.

Rho always warned me when attempting something like this I'd be going in blind. No control. It wasn't my dream. I would simply be tossed into someone else's darkest thoughts and desires; their unresolved issues in the waking world. Very personal business. It would take practice and concentration to be able to take control and manipulate. But this was Jamie. There was nothing dark about him.

I was blind, literally. I ground my fists into my eyes several times. It was foggy, barren. There was nothing. Like a heavy mist. It smelled musty. Immediately I started to panic. Where did I just put myself" Then I heard it.

Aoife.

Jamie. As soon as I concentrated on the direction his voice came from I felt myself being pulled, or rather pushed through the nothing right into his arms; an explosion of color and feeling greeting me. My skin tingled, hands felt singed as if I had held them too close to a fire. I squinted.

"You're here."

I looked around, trying to focus. We were still on our rock. Everything as it was, the water, our clothes on the shore, sun in the sky. I frowned at him.

"You want to be here?"

"I want to be here with you."

He pulled me towards the edge of the rock. I stumbled and stubbed my toe. It hurt. Odd. I looked down. My toe was bleeding. I pulled back on his arm to stop him and reached down to touch the blood. It was warm. I rubbed it between my fingers under my nose. Metallic. I didn't think it would be that real. Jamie tugged on my arm again.

"C"mon."

He dove off into the water, barely making a ripple. He surfaced about twenty feet away. "Come my, little water nymph. Beat that."

I was always up for a challenge. I dove into the water after him. It felt the same. Cool. Refreshing. I surfaced a foot away, laughing. He wasn't though. He was staring at me, green eyes glowing. He reached towards me, warm fingers curling around the back of my neck.

"Go for the ear. She likes it there. I'd know."

I whirled around at the voice. There on the rock was a boy, no older than myself. He was crouched down, arms resting on his knees watching us, leering. He was wearing all black, face painted white. It was his eyes that caught me, held me, held mine. Violet. That sick feeling started to unfurl itself in my stomach.

"Don't you, Precious?"

Red smeared lips curled into a feral smile. He winked at me. I looked at Jamie. This was his dream. Why was He here" Jamie looked at me, then the boy. "Oh no! You didn't tell him about me" Pity."

Within seconds, the sky was a tangled mass of dark clouds. Lightening shrieked, jumping from shadow to shadow. Thunder rumbled, cracking loud enough to cause ripples on the surface of the water. Ripples turned into white caps, rising and falling washing over us. We had to fight just to stay above the surface.

"Enough!"

In no more than a blink the sun beamed beautifully once again across a blue painted sky. The water calm as it was seconds ago. The boy clapped, his laughter pitched all over the place.

"This is yours now, Precious. How you've grown!"

"If this is mine, then I want you gone."

His laughter faded as he fell back onto his arms, as if pushed by some unforeseen force. There was the briefest hint of red in those violet eyes now. Anger, surprise" I swam to the edge of the rock and placed a hand on it. Jamie followed.

"Aoife" What's going on' Who is this?" "No one. I'll take care of it."

I hauled myself out of the water and stood. He rose to meet me. Red lips turned into a frown, almost sad really. "That wasn't nice. I'm trying to help you." "I don't want your help."

There was that flash again in those eyes and with it the sickness clawed restlessly inside me.

"Are you sure about that' I can give you anything."

His question lay heavy in the air, pressing. It was quiet now. There were no birds. No water lapping at the shore, the rock. I couldn't stop staring into those eyes. Couldn't blink. So I pushed in return, harnessed energy with a single thought. He faltered back a step. Hiisssssss. "I'd be careful if I were you."

"I'm not a child anymore."

Yellow teeth flashed.

"Yesss. I can sssee that."

His words slid over my skin like a wet tongue. Everywhere. Repulsive images flashed in my head; warnings, maybe promises. I stepped back. He stepped forward. "Perhaps a lesson for you then?"

He cupped his hands together beneath his mouth and leaned closer. Then he blew. It wasn't a simple breath that hit me, but something more like a miasma which carried a scent I couldn't place, exotic. It was my inhale of that where I lost myself. I became a guest in my own body, a prisoner. I could feel, hear, see, but without control.

And so I felt myself turn and stare down at Jamie, into his questioning eyes. Those beautiful green eyes. I crouched, grabbed a fistful of his soft hair, and shoved him under the surface of the water. I'm not sure if I was actually screaming, but it felt like it, the echoes bounced off the walls of my prison. I threw myself up against the window of my eyes as I watched Jamie drown by my hand. His hands thrashed out of the water, fingers and nails clawing up my arm leaving red welts dotted with blood.

I could feel the strength in his legs as he pushed off the rock trying to get away. I staggered and went to my knees, used my other hand to push him further under. Rock tore at the skin of my legs as he struggled. The thrashing grew weaker, my silent cries louder. I could feel warm tears on my cheeks.

"Do not deny me."

The whisper licked my ear just as I fell into myself once again, screaming. "Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"

And I did, jolting upright on all fours with the last shout. Jamie was still beside me, convulsing quietly. Water spilled out of his gaping mouth. His eyes were wide open, unblinking. I tried to roll him over on his side. My grip was slippery, water and blood combined ran through my fingers, on my hands, all over his arm and shoulder.

"No"no"no..no..no"no..no.."

I threw a leg over him and straddled his hips, trying to pull him upright. As if it would help. The convulsing had turned into an occasional tremor by then. There were no more tears. I could only stare. Stare into those beautiful green eyes as they drifted into death.

Like a candle flame, flickering bright, then gone with a simple breath.



((Refer to Aoife's profile in regards to this particular skill. It's been updated.))

In the realms of emptiness, Past the domain of mind, Lies regions unexplored, Behind the veil of time. Beckoning you "Come Taste!" In the silence of no space. Savor its sweet elixir of purity" Awaiting your embrace. ~Francis Collier

When you have a termed "phychotic break" they try and characterize you as a certain type, label you. It's hard because so many symptoms overlap, margins unclear. If you don't fit into one of the pre-defined catagories of diagnoses, they just write you off. Put you in a room at the end of the hall.

And forget. That's when you start to blur. Edges fading until there's nothing left but emptiness. A shell.

I don't really remember exactly when it happened. Sometimes I see pieces of it though. In my dreams. I shouldn't be able to have dreams of my own anymore. I haven't for years. But He lets me. Mocks me. Plants them there. His gift to me. To remind me of my weakness.

?"So I dream"...

A wise old owl lived in an oak The more he saw the less he spoke The less he spoke the more he heard Why can't we all be like that wise old bird"

I am life that should have never been.

I am worthless. I am barren. I am empty.

Dirty. Dirty. Halfbreed.

But not alone. It's watching. It likes me.

I do not like my room. There are no windows. But that's okay. I made one. Only I can see outside it though. It's red and pretty, my window. There's a garden just over there. I point to it.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow" With silver bells And cockle shells And pretty maids all in a row.

All my pictures are red and pretty. These white walls are my canvas. But They don't like them, my pictures. They took away my bed frame. Because that's how I made red paint. Everywhere.

Red paint on me. Arms and legs.

He does though. He likes my pictures. He asks me to make more for Him. I like to make Him happy. He likes it when I listen.

I am a kite in a wind storm. Waving, flying, free.

There's a long string. It's taut. Someone is holding on to it somewhere. They're trying to pull me back. The storm is fighting. It wants me to stay. He does too. He promises me things. He likes it when I say his name.

But I have a secret. He doesn't know mine.

I don't know time. There is no time.

They leave me food. But I don't eat it anymore. They put things in it. It makes me feel funny. Like swimming underwater. They tell me I need to sleep. But aren't I all the time" Maybe I am awake. I don't remember anymore.

There is neither here nor there. Just now.

They don't like it when I don't listen. Sometimes They make me lay down, try to make me sleep. I can't move my hands and feet. The buckles hurt. I like it a little. There's a needle sometimes. It goes in my arm. Its kiss spreads like fire all through me.

Heat. Need. Agony. My skin is alive. It burns. It crawls.

Then nothing but my breath. Each one whispers to me. I count them. The crack on the ceiling reminds me of a rabbit. When I close my eyes He is there. He is a wolf.

He eats the rabbit and makes red paint.

I wanted more.

Power.

So I took and He gave.

It filled me, lifted me up into the clouds. Into a place without words.

There was only Need. Skin. Blood. Dreams.

The In Between.

His music. My words. Our song.

It filled what was empty.

But something else was there too, fighting to fill the space.

It was the song that was inside of my soul.

One day it sang to me.

Some time after I had stopped biting, stopped cutting, stopped fighting, They let me out into the common room with the others. Only sometimes though. Most of the time They chose to forget I was even there. I liked the windows. I thought they were beautiful. There was a whole wall of them. The glass was smooth and cool under my fingers when I drew pretty pictures on it. The things I saw outside were red. Everything outside was always red. I liked red. It excited me. My first time out there I tried to touch it; to reach through and grab it. The glass broke. The metal bars burnt my arms. They didn't understand why. I knew. It was my secret. But I wanted out so I didn't care. They made me stay in the room with no windows for a while again. It made me sad. So I was good, such a good little girl.

Their language had been foreign to me. Before. Gibberish to my ears. It was very easy for me to learn though, especially if I wanted to get out. They told me I knew it all along but had just forgotten. It took weeks, They said. I did not know what weeks were. There had only been In Between in the beginning, nothing else existed. But when They let me out to see the windows again, I learned of day and night. Sun and Moon. And these things which They called seasons. I liked the Sun. When it came up out of the Earth it made things beautiful. One day it made the red disappear and there were colors, all sorts of colors everywhere!

I was In Between less and less. I didn't want to see what was behind my eyes when they were closed. I liked them open.

He didn't like that.

There was a chair. A big chair. They let me push it next to the windows and sit there when I was good. I wasn't allowed to touch anymore though. That was okay. I just wanted to look. I would sit inside myself for hours. Looking. This is what I was doing when it sang to me.

My song.

It was a sad day, that day. Outside it grey and dismal. The wind whispered to me. The raindrops told my story. It made me restless. So I stood and walked along the wall of widows. I never strayed to far from them. I hummed. They told me I hummed often before I talked. I wasn't paying attention. I did that often. Then I ran into It. This Beast. It was large and black. I knew black. Smooth and shiny like glass. It intrigued me. So I touched its lid. It was propped open by a stick. I looked at Them to see if it was okay because I didn't want to go back to that room. They didn't stop me. They weren't watching. There was a bench, shiny and black like the Beast. I sat. There were long keys of ivory white and smaller ones of charcoal black. I touched one. It made a noise. I liked it. I touched another.

Then another. Two at a time. Then three. Both hands.

A seducing sound flooded the openness of the common room. This noise, it sounded of icicles and little bells mixed into one. The sadness of it reverberated off the walls and drifted up into the lofty ceiling where it fell like tears. It was magic. It was alluring. It was mine. Slender, delicate fingers moved fluidly over the keys of black and white as if they'd known them intimately. The fingers were mine too. I made the Beast come to life.

It was called a piano.

The things that came out of my mouth were words.

Together they were music and song, song and music.

This is how I spent my days coming back into myself. Over and over and over again. Redundant to everyone else but new to me. I cherished this time. Little by little it came back. What knew, what I did, what I was. Pieces of me. Months passed. I learned to appreciate time and how precious it was. Because there wasn't ever going to be enough.

They didn't care.

I was fixed, They said. Cured.

Goodbye.

And then, just like that, I found myself deposited on the curb outside a set of wrought iron gates with nothing but the clothes on my back and enough money to last me a week. It had been close to ten years since I had been able to walk in the lonely light of morning without shadows nipping at my feet.

So I did just that, leaving behind the girl in the room with no windows.

But the shadows found me anyway. They held my secrets.

They knew them and they knew me.

They whispered them in the ears of others.

Hello, Jameson said.

Hola. Patron echoed.

Silence.

Nothing. She was too busy studying the smooth surface of the bathroom ceiling and the rippling images tossed upon it. Flames from candles danced an erotic dance with the shadows. The shadows that loved her so and wept for her constant attention. A private show just for her. Alluring, come hither. Just like the two bottles sitting in the empty tub with her. "My hands are one big splinter."

She didn't bother to shift her attention to the floor or to the unfinished walls for proof of that work. "You better f**king love that bathtub, is all I'm saying. Six hours a day, minimum."

She was loving it. Right now. Because that's where she sat, in that claw foot tub that could fit three. The long burn mark on the upper part of that one leg still hissed angry fire. She was leaning back against the curved end of tub, head resting on the lip angling her face up. Yes. Hello ceiling. That black hair was in a braid. Once. The half that remained as such spilled over the edge into nothing. They really needed to invest in a couch for this place.

Her arms were splayed wide, forearms and hands dangled loosely over the sides. There was a glass which hovered carelessly over the floor from the limp fingers of her right hand. A bright, red line marred the paleness of her skin there. Maybe a finger of that fine whiskey covered the bottom of that glass. Hard to tell. There was still an angry welt on that other arm from her run in with the desert horseman. The track marks of her past disappeared with the shadows. Inside the gleaming whiteness of the tub, her legs were curled up into each other, numb to the chill of the porcelain. Before them sat a bottle of Jameson and a bottle of Patron. Latent in her lap was a small, black, leather bound journal.

If you find this again, then either you're snooping or I'm dead. If it's the first one, I'm going to write my name on you in hickeys when I catch you at it. If it's the second, I need to talk to you. She didn't know he'd still been writing in it. Honestly, she hadn't been snooping. And what did it matter anyway' He'd been gone when she found it. And really, under the mattress" That's where teenage girls hid their diaries. Leave it to Judah. She already knew most of the contents in it to begin with. She'd written some herself. Things to help him remember each time he came back. Things that condemned him.

Memories.

Dreams. Dreams he'd had. Dreams she'd had with him.

He'd continued to write in it. Things he wanted her to see, to understand. At the end, that's what got her. That's what chased her back into the bathroom, into the enormous, claw foot tub. And she'd brought it with her and some friends to share it with while the new version of Judah was sprawled on the bed. Clean shaven and tentacle free. He came back. Came back to her, even though he didn't understand it. He was almost there. But not even that made her smile.

She'd found him again in the Dreaming after he died this last time. He hadn't been alone. He'd asked her not to go looking. She didn't listen to him much. But she was very good at listening to words not meant for her ears. This time she'd been caught. And that's why she was where she was at. Her pieces were threatening to fall apart, shattered in a world of fragile things. It was her fault.

She'd made a deal with the devil to save them both.

He'd told her he knew how to get Judah back through. Every time. Intact. All of it, mind, body, and soul. He gave his word. An oath that couldn't be broken by the kind she was and by the kind he served. But there lay the stipulation to the whole agreement. "What do you want?" She'd asked. "I want a day a week with you." He countered.

Now this was where words became tricky, verbatim mattered. There was a bounty on half-breeds. "Our Lady of the Cosmic Balance feels that impurities weaken the strength of the pure, and that it is easier to maintain an absolute black-and-white balance, rather than one muddled up with shades of gray.?

If she agreed to his terms, he wouldn't turn her in and he'd keep Judah alive and well on trips across the Veil. But he'd also be in the dark. Because part of the deal was that Judah never find out.

It was to this she closed her eyes and brought the forgotten glass to her lips to drain it. It burnt a path of betrayl down her throat. Of secrets that piled high, threatening to spill.

Now all she had to do was keep Judah alive this time.

And they'd both be okay.

We dance around in a ring and suppose, while the secret sits in the middle and knows. ~Robert Frost

Every life is a story waiting to be told. Who will be your storyteller?

Someone.

Something.

Was whispering. Telling forbidden tales. The kind that skimmed along the surface of the skin and made it burn. Burn with delicious heat. Burn and want more.

Her secrets. Their secrets. All of them.

Her chest of treasures was starting to run over. It was heavy and full and corroded with shame where it sat in the bottom of the ocean. An ocean that swirled in the depths of her eyes. She could feel it. Could they see it' If she had a choice, that's where it would remain, undiscovered. Buried for eternity. But how long is that' Time was precious to her. The wind mourned for it, raindrops wept as it was wasted, and thunder shattered the rest into a million pieces. And no matter how hard, how fast she tried to gather them something was taking time away.

She was the keeper. Lies built up like towers loomed over her and threatened to crumble taking everything with them and all the she'd gained. She was outside, waiting for the sun to come and take away the darkness and make it light once again. But clouds were moving in. Corrupt and hovering. With each dream she walked she came away with something else. Something that cost more than the truth.

For every trick there was a treat.

He'd told her that she wouldn't be able to hide for long. It was part of her. She remembered how good it tasted. How it felt. The power of it all. It was seductive. It had no mercy. These were things not meant to be forgotten. She was weak. She was nothing. She would never be whole again. Something else He made sure of.

No one was safe anymore. It was already starting.

Dormant for so long, lulled to sleep by her voice. Her music. But it stirred, restless. Fed by the nature of the secrets she kept so that she was no longer safe within herself anymore. Her skin hummed. It made her fingers twitch. Control was slipping through, spilling over like tears down her cheeks.

It was only a matter of time.

something always brings me back to you it never takes too long. no matter what i say or do I still feel you here "till the moment i"m gone

I was trying. Maybe a little too hard. But that was nothing new. I always hid things from Him. Covered them up with a blanket sewn together with lies and braided with secrets; my own hidden treasures. But He won't look underneath my blanket. Not after what I'd done for Him. What I do. But there's still that part of me that wants Him to notice, wants Him to lift up a corner and peek. I crave it.

To me, His attention is a dream. To everyone else, a nightmare.

you hold me without touch you keep me without chains i never wanted anything so much then to drown in your love and not feel your rain

But there is something different about this dream. It is not like the rest. There is life. Beautiful life every where. And color-so much color-! It's unlike Him. He is varying shades of black and white, always gray. Nothing is ever clear. And red. He loves red. I love red too. Don't I"

set me free leave me be i don't want to fall another moment into your gravity here i am and i stand so tall just the way i"m supposed to be but you're on to me and all over me

I stand on a giant grassy swell of hill. The moon is full and high. Night has fallen down through darkness and shadow. Thousands of brilliant stars have punched through to decorate the infinite blackness of it with unwanted wishes. I wonder who they smile for. The rounded pasture climbs for miles all around. And even though there is no wind, the tall grass dances against my legs, teasing my knees. I am wearing mo chor"'s favorite dress, you see. I've been looking for him here. The heat of summer sunshine makes the grasses warm and through my bare feet, the soil I stand on pulses with life. But down there, where I am looking, lies an ocean like a silver blanket on the Earth. That too, goes on forever. It waves to me. Promises to tell me things should I come close and listen. I want to go to it. But I am distracted by movement. Do you see me"

you loved me "cause i"m fragile when i thought that i was strong but you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone

A bird. Beautiful and black swoops and soars above me. But instead of soft, feathered wings, silk ripples in black trails silently behind it. It soaks up Moon beams as it soars. It gives them back for me when it passes by because they are beautiful, and beauty in my dreams hold no bounds. My little black bird lands gracefully in a tree which was not there before.

But then I know this is His dream, created for me. Because this tree is death. With its disfigured and twisted trunk, skeletal branches have clawed their way through the Earth like a hand and fingers from the grave. A perfect ring of charred grass surrounds it. Smoke still rises from the ashes scattered, seductive plumes. And it reeks ov everything that is Him. But the pretty black bird watches me, serene and wondering. It's eyes know no depth. Will it sing for me"

set me free leave me be i don't want to fall another moment into your gravity here i am and i stand so tall just the way i"m supposed to be but you're on to me and all over me

"Preciosa."

But it's not His. The voice that speaks that name is another I know. I feel something inside me. So I turn. It is the Spaniard. I have not seen him in months. He is walking a wide, wide circle around me, hands out, fingers stretched, running them over blades of grass. They bend for him in such a way that I forget to breathe. I can only watch. Frost. And he watches me. Rust. Thin, black lines move on his face, intricate patterns, twisting, curling. He smiles and circles.

Black bird sings from the tree. A song without words. A solemn croon of memories forgotten. It is hard for me to stop looking at the Spaniard, but I do. On the beach below there is a horse in the sand. It does not have hooves, but hard, clawed feet. Clawed feet and fangs and yellow eyes. They blaze up at me when it stops. I have seen those eyes before.

i live here on my knees as i try to make you see that you're everything i think i need here on the ground but you're neither friend nor foe though i can't seem to let you go the one thing that i still know is that you're keeping me down

And out of the water behind it, mo chor" rises. There is tightness in my chest. I press my hand there. He is coming. One step at a time. There is something graceful in the way he moves, preternatural. I can see the kaleidoscope of color in his eyes, greens and golds and browns. Stained glass. He wears nothing but jeans, held up by the suggestion of hips.

There is laughter somewhere. Deep and rich. The tightness in my chest aches. Something moves inside me. I look at the Spaniard. He is still circling me. Slowly. Smiling. Black bird still sings a woodwind song. And mo chor" is so close. He is holding something in his hand. The moon captures it and glints shiny silver reflections of itself. God how it hums. Old secrets throbbed.

you're keeping me down

The smell. It wasn't right. Decomposing leaves, peaty moss. Damp soil and rotten wood. Mo chor" smelled of musk and amber, smoke and wood. Other worldly. But not this one. It wasn't him. More laughing. It makes me ill. A ball of heaviness in my stomach like hunger, and an ache that needs to be fulfilled. I'm afraid to look. The pain in my chest reaches a level I've never felt before. And he is reaching for it. Like he can feel it through me. It is calling to him.

Black bird screamed. It was neither high pitched nor human nor animal of any kind. It was a horrible something in between. I will never forget it, no matter how many beautiful things I hear afterwards.

you're onto me, onto me and all over

Wings of black silk touch over us and the scream echoes through the meadow as the pretty bird flies away. But is was not my pain he reached for. He has my wrist. He is pushing up the sleeve of my sweater. "It's okay, " He says. "See?"

It was glory. He cut. It was beautiful. He cut.

"Everything's going to be fine.?

It was thirst in the most elemental way. He cut. It was exquisite. He cut.

I throw the blade across the bed and cringe when it hits the floor. Because later, another time, I'll be crawling on that floor looking for it. Repenting my sins.

something always brings me back to you it never takes too long



(Lyrics by Sara Bareilles "Gravity")