Dreams are sprightful-misty-hard to grasp puzzles of the mind. Never sure am I, if the dream is me speaking to myself or someone else speaking to me. ~
In this dream setting is hard to determine because it is forever changing to suite the needs of the avatar. In the beginning, “we,” were in a home. The home is a specific house in Virginia, in the home is a garage which holds treasures.
At this point I’m not sure if I’m changing the dream as I write, bare with me.
There is a half bath with a mirror right across from the garage of treasures and a utility closet directly adjacent from there.
All meeting with the kitchen.
As I step in to the garage of treasures that is when things begin to speed up, because I can’t remember if it then I’m determined to hunt down the stag or if I had it on my mind the whole time.
Bow and quiver ready, “we” chase,
I with bow alone am quick and sure but never sure enough and as, “we” (internal family) get closer to the score I remember loosing an arrow. (remember cataloging a specific loss as a gut wrenching deciding loss, which honestly was a misdirected ploy to get me to head the chase. diving head first into a side door.) All of this took place by a highway mind you we had been long gone from the kitchen of the home for a while at this point.
At the point of misdirection and the taunting of the side door cave, I’m urged to wait-not, to go on until the others are there to pick me up but I know there is no time and chase. (can see his face in my mind as he beckons me further) as I stealthily approach, I need not a torch and iti s not a cave per say but a pre-constructed passage which leads through the woods which is off the highway. I turn left and there he is, the stag.
(Yet he is not a stag, rather goatish, maybe a ram) standing on the spiral staircase made of wood and pinfold,
so you rose there and duck and take two steps and rose there, duck, until you are level with the second tier. Mind you he is so fast he is on the second tier by two leaps. Using the hand rails as steps and the walls as decks. I send off a shot in vain- knowing it is vain-snagging the wall but getting him to lead me on. For his manner dictates he is leading me somewhere and the moment I’m wanting to follow. I pick up the hanging shot as I seal the stone in pursuit of the stag. I load another shot and as he dips to the right in a hall I follow. I turn the corner and confront a lithe girl.
She taunts me with her eyes. I pay her no mind because I’m still in pursuit of the stag, which seems to have vanished. I am disappointed by this awareness, a feeling of abandonment because I can not find him. Returning my attention to the red-headed clear-eyed golden toed girl, I ask of the stag. Menacingly she raises her cleaved hand and says, “he is here as she tries to scratch me.” I weave out of the way, not understanding until, through the window leaps yet another character who seeks me harm. ( a military type man).
We wrestle in front of the glow of the setting sun which casts this twilight haze about the room and as I wrestle this soldier and beseech the girl to repeat her answer, I grab the soldier in a rear necked choke and sit him on his bum in time to here him demand me, to let him go, to let him go. I am not disgusted by this realization as I feel I should be. I fill this role well and I enjoy the thought of being strong, I don’t let go of the man until he can bother me no more.
(I am haunted at how easy it is to harm the man.) I know for a fact if I was not threatened I would not have done so, Simply from lack of ability not from a lack of wanting to at the time. I deemed it necessary. With this new found knowledge in the light of twilight I leave this stage and find myself in a land of trials.
A land where everything has a meaning and purpose; made to test your perseverance and judged by those you may know or not, but each trail has a judging panel of three individuals. You must have the approval of all three individuals to continue along the path.
The overall layout of this land for as far as the eye can see, (honestly I feel the geographical location is the Appalachian trail) for there is a time in this dream when a trail goes wrong and man with a motor bike is caused to crash. He is lying across the bike path, ( a path I remember taking as a teenager with my father) what the motor bikes man trial was is hard to determine but his crash was steep for he could see the beach from his prone position. He lights a cigar (asks if I want one) I know the smoke is deep and good.
I want to know why he failed until I make it to where ever he was at.
As I scale the mountain, I come across my own trails and the path seems pleasant enough.
There was a singing trial-implored for me to attend by Martin Lawrence- he suggested I charade my way through it- simply sing and dance and make it look like I know what I am doing.
The panels are brought through and the judges-the last is late and two men are singing with me-mind you the rules change throughout the trial- one man is to saving a single point of the song- nothing done in unison. So as I wait to sing I notice how they do it and use that as my standard. I never do sing because the complication of this process fails to impress anyone and like a bad play the pins are taken down and the judges leave.
Twilight escapes through the brush and lights the path I continue and find myself in a cottage. (A cottage which has the feel of a movie theater or a whole in the wall bar) a cottage nonetheless. You’ll have to keep up because things begin to move fast again in this cottage. For this cottage moves as you need it to, phones appear as needed and people come and go as quick as you turn your head. As I enter the cottage I am reminded of the first time one appears at bootcamp and the dust from the floor boards reach ones nose.
There are beds wrapped up in army green flannel covers. A desk in the middle of the room an old military desk that would take a Tonka truck to move it. From entrance to the first separation is about 4 feet at this first separation is a kitchenette ( A stove a sink, dish washer and a little table with a phone book and a white office phone. ( You have to dial 9 to dial out)
There is another room beyond that phone and in that room is a smoke filled stage production ( All of this is at your immediate right turn) to the left of the cottage is a long hall way that bends from right to left. I don’t before I ever go left.
I do remember it is in this cottage I am confronted about my beliefs. The panel of three do not sit at the desk alone though the engage in active argument with me. ( The prude, screams about my wrong unbelief, The soldier goes on about how I should be terminated because of my ways and the Cute-blond-from-THE VIEW, waves her finger in my face. (Much like a silent movie.)
God should be your only conscience thought. It takes me a while but I convince them to hush. I sit them down and explain how truly disgusting it is they ridicule my belief when there very belief is the sole reason there is war.
You preach of such a righteous path but can not even live up to the sole goal of it all. And in your search of truth you kill each other, war after war determined in your bloody deaths that you will go to heaven by your sacrifice. You are angered at me because I will not give my life freely because each of you made that mistake and because of your lack of faith in the nature of that decision you are left to doubt. You look at me and wish to be free but knowing you are forever trapped by your commitment call me the devil because you can not have what I have.
I speak of Hitler’s sins (such a speech raised the stage of the room in the right) These sins of judgement determined by a men/women fueled by the engine of this world.
IF one is to die righteously let it be for the family and the not the selfish. I give my blood only for them who would die with me for a common cause or love with me for the simple enjoyment of life. I’d seek no reward for defending the blind of this world who feel it is my duty to die so they might live. This is not simply a call of man, for woman gave birth to those soldiers and should live by her boys as much as our women should live by their husbands. I find no glory in fighting for the sake of fighting. or anything that only a few can claim as truth.
As I move to leave the cabin I look one more time at my trail and see Obama walking behind me with the soldier. As he smiles at the panel he says, for I can read his lips, ” I told you he would be a tough one, it’ll take a lot more to convince him of taking up the sword, but he will one day.
Author still unknown.