Dreamin’ and Sneezin’

Να ονειρευτεί και φτέρνισμα

I woke up with a violent sneeze to a pounding headache. I’d had a migraine once, and this felt worse. Even my eyeballs hurt against the bright light from behind my eyelids. Moving my arms, I tried to feebly cover them before trying to open up my eyes.

However, I felt like a truck had hit me, and it was agony to move. I decided the pain was worse, and braved to open my eyes unshielded. I only kept them open a second before I had to close them again. Who turned the museum’s flood lights on?! I ranted. Slowly, I tried again, the room slowly coming into view one millimeter at a time.

Confusion greeted my sight as I appeared to be in some unkempt wood cabin with marble pillars. Squinting, the vision didn’t go away. Blinking really hard and then opening up my eyes fast, the view still didn’t change. I wanted to move my head, but the pain in my arms seemed to threaten that any motion would just bring more pain.

Screw the pain,I thought and forced myself up on my elbows. I had to briefly shut my eyes as the pain in my head brought a swirl of nausea. That’s what it must be, I hit my head REALLY hard during the earthquake. Now, I’m hallucinating… Or wait, dreamin’? Am I in a coma?! My mind jumping to conclusions, I pushed myself up into a sitting position and pinched my arm. “Ow!” I cried, for if it was a dream my senses were still in full gear.

Looking around for the first time, I felt a sense of déjà vu. It was a weird little house, with no differentiating rooms but laid out like an old fashioned cabin style cowboy studio. There was tons of mahogany looking wood for the structure and furniture. Dust layered the hard wood floor that wasn’t covered by musty looking shaggy rugs. Mom would have had a hissy fit if this was my place, I lovingly joked to myself. Out of a habit of boredom, I also replied, If she stayed lucid enough for you to explain it to her

Pushing the ever-looming thought of my mom’s illness aside, I managed to flop myself onto my knees. More waves of pain, but at least I didn’t feel like I was going to puke anymore. Ever since mom had been in and out of the hospital for the past ten years, I hated the sight of that familiar stuff.

Focus woman! I commanded myself. This is at least an entertaining dream, though why you didn’t turn off the pain doesn’t make sense. Enjoy it before you wake. I’m sure this pain is only sympathetic to what you’re gonna wake up too. Maybe the painting fell on me… I was startled out of my reverie as I sneezed violently again. Since when do people sneeze in dreams?!

I feebly stood, wiping my nose on the sleeve of my NYU sweatshirt. The garment looked more like a beige color now than it’s generic grey. Wiping my hand, it came away covered in dust. “Oh gross! No wonder I’m sneezing.” Since the air was hot, even with a cool breeze coming in through the front door, I didn’t really need the sweatshirt on. Pulling it off, I felt much better being only in my baby-blue t-shirt over a long-sleeved white long-john top. I was glad I’d put deodorant on even though it was winter, for I was actually starting to sweat. I wonder if I have a fever out of my dream world…

Dusting myself off, at least I was only wearing jeans and tennis. My bare-thin work clothes wouldn’t survive such an attack. Curiosity got the better of me, or more specifically over my dulling pain, and I started roaming the cabin studio. While sparse, as if someone had cleared out quickly, there were still some things left. The ceiling was only a couple yards taller than me, but had spacious windows on all four walls. They were covered with handmade curtains of some sort of red cloth that shimmered from the sunlight poring in behind it. Obviously, they’d been meant for decoration than privacy.

I’d been lying only a couple yards from the entry way, and glancing out now it appeared to be a lush forest outside. Save that for later. I wonder what’s back here, I thought as I made my way to the back of the cabin. There was a cute little round wooden table and two straight-back chairs, that I assumed served as the kitchen table. It fit the quaint look of the cabin, and had a look of mastery for the carver who’d done intricate details in the legs. In front of a weird round looking fire-pit that had marble lining the walls and smoke chute.

Continuing on, I passed something that looked like a closet, and opened it. In confusion, I saw nothing except a chink in the wall with some sort of pile of rounded green cloth. Glancing down, I saw the floor was made of a dirt with a very deep hole about the size of a watermelon. “Oh,” I mumbled, realizing I’d found the toilet. Picking up one of the papers, I noticed it had little lines as if it had veins. Staring at it more closely, I realized it was some sort of leaf! “Ok, now that’s just pushing it, why be THAT authentic in roughin’ it.”

Losing interest, I closed the closet-bathroom door and saw a marble stand that resembled a sink. Except there was no faucet handles or hole for water to drain. Furrowing my eyebrows, I saw on the floor there was a wooden bucket with a crust line on the inside as if it’s content had slowly evaporated. Walking to the back right corner, I saw little built in shelves with planks of wood that had clothes neatly folded up and placed on them. Dust coated the top ones, indicating it’s owners long gone. There were also glass and clay jars filled with different stuff, and old looking cloth bound books.

Against the back left wall, I saw the most beautiful bed I’d ever seen. It looked to be the size between a queen and king, and was covered with a mountain of blankets and furs. The bed frame was the same dark cherry wood, but the head and footboard was carved marble. There were symbols that looked vaguely familiar, and a tender carving of a couple embracing in front of a sunrise or sunset.

Something niggled at the back of my brain, and I simply stared at the room until it hit me. Huh, they didn’t use metal on anything. Everythin’ is wood or marble. Musta been like some sort of material purist or whatever that’s called. Everything was made by connecting pieces of wood, including little round pins for the door, or entire lengths of wood. The rest was made of beautiful carved pieces of marble.

Sitting on the bed in a poof of dust, I was surprised there was no mattress. Underneath all the covers, there was some sort of huge bag filled with something soft laid out on the wood frame. Still, with the cushioned bag and blankets, it was pretty soft.

It must have been instinctual, for my eyes started to droop. The headache was still lingering and I realized how much I longed to take a nap. My eyes already starting to feel heavy, I walked to the front door and shut it. There was no handle or lock, but a bar to go across. Mumbling, “It’s only a dream,” I ignored the plank locking system and padded back over to the bed. Kicking my shoes off, I curled up in the bed under the covers. Fading fast, Some dream, maybe I’ll wake me up now, I thought before I quickly fell asleep.

---

I felt someone shaking my shoulder roughly. Flinging a hand out to curb the nuisance, I grumbled, “Go away Tess, one more hour.” I was notorious for over-sleeping as Tess was for always being early. The hand returned and sharply shoved me.

Sitting up in bed, I exasperatedly “What Tess?!” My mouth dropping open, I stared at a strange man who was pointing a sword at me! He didn’t appear to be that much older than me, and looked like some sort of Robin Hood meets Renaissance Man.

Frantically looking around, I realized I was still in the cabin. “Something tells me I’m not in Kansas anymore,” I said to myself. Holding up my hands in a universal sigh for surrender, I gulped loudly.

The man’s eyebrows furrowed, giving a look of consternation and confusion. Still pointing the sharp looking sword at me, he said something that sounded like a mix of Greek, Latin and good old Tolkien’s elvish.

“Huh?” I replied. Raising an eyebrow, I asked, “Um, any chance you speak English?”

His eyes went round, and he mumbled something that almost sounded like someone warding off a curse. Gesturing with his sword for me to get out of the bed, I slowly pulled the covers bag. If possible, his eyes got bigger at seeing how I was dressed. Ok buddy, you’re not exactly Mr. Fashion yourself.

I bent down to get my shoes, but was interrupted by a sharp commanding word. Seeing the sword move closer, I held my hands up again, “Woah, woah, hold on buddy!”

He started saying something but stopped as frustration crossed his face while I still continued to look confused.

I pointed down at my shoes, “Shoes, I’m going to put my shoes on.”

Again, he grumbled a sentence sounding like a he thought I’d cursed him, but nodded his head in understanding. Backing up a little bit to give me room, I slowly bent down and got my shoes on. There was a cold wind coming in from the door that my nick-named stranger “Robin” had left open. Pointing at my sweatshirt, I slowly pulled it off my waist and put it on.

C’mon, girl, wake up!! Either my dream was about a really long stay in a backwards country, or something weird was happening. As much as I’d liked my fantasy books growing up, this was too surreal.

Waving for me to move, I followed Robin sword’s direction to the front door. The cabin was pretty dark, except a candle lantern made of clay on the table that Robin must have brought in. Note to self, close AND lock doors in dreams next time, I mentally told myself.

I covertly surveyed Robin while heading to the front door. Well, at least you dream of handsome men. With dark curly hair, and warm brown eyes, he was different from what I normally liked. Still, he had a handsome but boyish charm, even though he was probably around my age or not much older. With his complimentary tan, he was more like Tess’ preferred tall, dark and handsome, than usually what I went for in guys. Give me a brooding artist or bookworm anytime, just as long as he leaves his swords at home!

Getting impatient, Robin waved the sword for me to hurry it up. “Alright, I’m a gettin’; back off will you. Or at least stop pointing that thing so close to me before someone gets hurt.” His eyes went back to their surprised look, while at the same time giving a small sheepish smile. Robin lowered his sword, but kept a tightness of grip and stance that indicated he could have it up in a blink of an eye.

It was my turn for my eyes to go wide. “You know what I’m saying, don’t you?!” There was no other way Robin would have done lowered his sword if he hadn’t understand my words. For I hadn’t motioned to the sword at all. “Why don’t you speak to me in English then?!” I almost yelled, tired of being scared for what I didn’t know I’d done besides sleep in some abandoned cabin’s bed.

Shaking his head furtively in a negative gesture, Robin rattled off a sentence in what I was choosing to call “Grelatish”. It obviously spooked him to hear me speak and he gently pushed my shoulder to get moving again.

“FINE,” I replied, and stomped towards the entrance. No one gets mortally wounded in their dreams anyways. Reaching the front door, I crossed the threshold and was greeted by another guy, this time holding the reins of two beautiful horses. Oh perfect, why don’t you just put armor on him Jes. What kinda fairy tale are you up to.

Robin behind me rattled off a couple of long sentences in Grelatish while I kept my hands out in front of me as if in surrender. The new guy, of a taller build but more fair in coloring, seemed to pale in the moonlight that illuminated him as he listened to his companion. Robin nudging me forward, I felt a weird uneasiness.

Stepping closer to the other man, I could see now that he looked like a cross between a jock and a bookworm. In the same kind of sturdy plain cloth clothing, the only difference in the new guy outfit was that he had a bow and arrow slung on this back. While his hair was also curly, it was a pale blond, with eyes some undetermined light color. It was too hard at night right now to be able to see the color of his eyes clearly. I could however plainly read the look of shock, foreboding and a twinge of fear on his face though. Pondering what to call the new guy, How about Angel, that’ll fit with his cherubim look going on.

Stepping towards me, Angel handed Robin the reins. Cocking his head, he seemed to be heavily weighing something. Considering his words before beginning, he finally spoke to me. With a lilt that spoke of refinement, Angel asked, “You are who? I not know from where you come to be knowledgeable of the forbidden speech. High family and collective only permitted to speak it openly. Declare yourself.”