Recounting Dreams

[Alzorath]

These 2 short stories are entirely fiction, in that they have never existed in real life, never been part of someone's existence to my knowledge. These are though 2 dreams I had as a child (recurring from the age of about 7 to 12 years of age, and I am now 25), and will never forget their impact on my life - however I feel that I wish to express them to ensure that my memory of them never fades or fogs over time. I also want to practice my utilization of words to better craft imagery in the mind of the reader.

 

Others are invited to share memories of dreams they've had that impacted them as well... critique as well is welcome (although as many IRC active pennites know, writing is not my artistic priority - it is still something that interests me)

 

---------------------------------------------------------------

 

Story 1: The Dark Labyrinth

 

I stand before the crumbling remains of an ancient ruin, the wind slowly creeping across the sparsely clinging strands of grass at my feet. I stare at a decaying wooden gate held up by two towering stone obelisks, upon which rest the twisted forms of gargoyles whose piercing gaze seems to cut into my very soul. I know where I am, though I know not the name. I feel the temptation I felt every night before, the temptation to open that gate, which I know leads to the very bowels of my own personal hell.

 

This night I cannot resist, my hand slowly falls to rest on the cold rusty iron handle of the gate. Almost instantly I find myself standing in the middle of the all too familiar ruins of the labyrinth - the wooden gate through which I entered is nowhere to be found. I know I must escape, I know I must find my way to the entrance of this dark puzzle, I know that I never will find my way out.

 

As with every night I charge through the labyrinth, quickly remembering the paths I've traveled before, and trying to avoid them. Through the open roofed corridors of decaying stone walls I run, left, right, left, straight, through a courtyard, past a fountain. No matter what route I take I always end up at the same point, standing before that old rod iron gate beneath the archway - unable to see beyond the dark seeping fog behind its rusted bars, yet unable to turn away. There is nowhere else for me to go, the lures overwhelm me, I must open the gate, there is no other path for me to take.

 

I place my hand on the latch and instantly the black fog lifts. Revealed to me is an ancient graveyard, the tombs of untold numbers of evil souls lay before me - their dark energies quickly reaching into me, paralyzing every muscle in my body, and all I can do is stand and watch. From the distance I feel the deadly chill of something far worse than any one soul could create, a flash of red consumes my vision, a dark laughter stabs at my heart, then I awaken - alone, in the darkness of my room, a cold sweat dripping down my flesh. I am grateful however - I survived another night in the dark labyrinth.

 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------

 

Story 2: Peace and Beauty

 

I fall asleep, and when I awaken I find myself standing in the void surrounded by darkness. I look around, trying to figure out what is around me, and in the distance I spot a pale blue-violet rectangle of light - a doorway. I calmly walk to the light, unable to see anything inside from the distance except the glow of the light. As I near the doorway the form of a woman seated on a small stone bench slowly takes shape.

 

As I enter the doorway, the room suddenly shifts into focus, and the image of the room permanently seers into my mind.

 

Opposite of the door, a plethora of hanging sheets of blue and pale violet crystal dangle from silver chains attached to a plain flat ceiling, almost seeming to emit their own light, and beyond them the void expands indefinitely.

 

In the room sits a solitary stone bench, midway between the door and the crystal wall. This bench, simple in design, consisting of two rectangular legs, and a long rectangular seating surface, is adorned with intricate carvings of the symbols of nature and life.

 

On this stone bench, sits an enchantingly beautiful woman with her back turned to me - her skin a soft milky color and brown wavy hair that flows down to the middle of her back. Her form, which is beautifully enhanced by its human imperfections was adorned simply with a regal violet cloth that was draped across her legs and wrapped around off the back of the bench.

 

As I stare amazed at the vision before me, the room suddenly becomes fuzzy again and I'm engulfed by the feeling of peace as the room seems to blur out of existence.

 

When my senses return to me, I am curled up on the bench, my head resting on the velvety soft cloth as the woman's hand rest on my head, slowly stroking my hair. The feeling of peace and serenity becomes complete in her hands and I feel as though I have been allowed the ultimate freedom and happiness for my life. I let myself drift off into sleep and remember none of my dreams after that point in the night.

 

That morning I awaken, slow and calmly to the morning dawn peering through my window. I miss the peacefulness of the dream, yet am thankful for it. My only hope at that point is that I can possibly return to that dreamland again that night.

Edited June 6, 2008 by Alzorath