Author: Karine Dragon'sheart PM
Vivid dreams like these aren't just a passing fancy, at least, that's my opinion. What is going on with me? Why do I dream of places I've never been, but are as familiar as those I have...and why do I feel like it's more real when I dream?Rated: Fiction T - English - Fantasy/Mystery - Words: 706 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 05-09-07 - id: 2359339
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The landscape surrounding me is alien, a dreamscape of cobbled together edges and blurry memories…yet why do I feel as though I've been here a thousand times before? The yellowed grasses spreading out across the horizon, a ghost of a prairie bending back in a path that I apparently must take. A mottled gray sky stretches over my head, it's perfect dome unmarred by any trees or distant power lines.
But this place is terrifyingly silent, with no wind to rustle the stalks, not even a scent of a breeze, no chatter of life sooth my wary soul. Frightening as well is my own lack of clothing, my body bared for all the world to see; except, there's no one here…Wait. Is that….it cannot be…a flute? No, not an ordinary instrument, a wooden one, deep and low, and utterly enchanting.
"Hello?" That simple word echoes over the empty plain…and that comforting tune pauses. Taking a cautious step forward, it startles me by beginning again. Another step, that alluring sound draws me on, the lands surrounding me blurring as I seem to run, to fly faster and faster…Suddenly, time has stopped, and I am alone no longer, though my nudity still makes me self-conscious. There are trees here, and the sky seems so much more distant, as though I were a child again staring up into it's perfection. He rests beside a hidden stream, sitting calmly on a mossy boulder as the water ripples silently beneath his feet…his hooves…
The flute's chiding song has softened, a loving touch on my skin as I close my eyes in pleasure. The flutist looks up at me, smiling around his instrument, and I blush, attempting to cover myself as best as possible. He shakes his head a little, his silvery eyes taking me in entirely, as if between he and I there was no need for concealment. He stands up, playing ever still as he saunters up to me. The song ends on a strikingly melancholy note, strange in this peaceful bower, and he draws it away, laying it on a branch near his arm. Callused hands cup my face, drawing circles with his thumbs. He smiles again, and kisses my lips…
…then I awoke abruptly, chilled sweat beading on my skin. It had been so real…again. I honestly don't know what to do about it…these dreams…they're more like reality than my own is…am I going crazy, or is this just the usual effect of exams? I really don't know…but I do know that the satyr in my dream is someone that I want to meet. The last dream was more introspective, me talking, remember? I'll look for it later, but seriously, I want to know more about him. Why is he so kind to me, and where is he leading me? In this one, it seemed like he was rewarding me…but for what? I just walked…flew…wandered down a path? I didn't do anything important…did I? I just…ah, well. I'd better get back to sleep…I've a long day tomorrow. Let's see…
Morning- two exams back to back
Noon- maybe lunch before my 1:30
Afternoon- two more exams…
I guess I should just go to sleep now…but his eyes…for some reason, though I remember that place a little, I remember him so much more…Have I seen him before? Have I ever noticed the eyes of the people I speak to? I don't know…but I intend to find out. I want to know what these dreams are, what they mean…and why they keep coming to me night after night. I'd never though keeping a journal would be worth much…but I guess now I was wrong. I'm taking you, my dear diary, to the old lady at the bookstore this weekend…some of my classmates told me that she has a lot of dream-related books and that she can interpret them really well. Maybe she can tell me something the dreams can't…