Difference between revisions of "Compendium:Dream 15"

A fragment of the Garden of Remembering

(Words for Rhu)
 
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All your life there have been people. Always people. Always the smiles, the company, the expectations, the rituals of life. Everything that falls into place, because there is always someone watching, someone to play for, to dance for.
All your life there have been people. Always people. Always the smiles, the company, the expectations, the rituals of life. Everything that falls into place, because there is always someone watching, someone to play for, to dance for.


There is noone here. A bit of wind that tickles and stirs the fields. The waves that lick the shore. The silence in the leaves. Only silence...
There is noone here. A bit of wind that tickles and stirs the fields. The waves that lick the shore. The silence in the leaves. Only silence... and freedom.
 
It is overwhelming.
 
You sit in the grass, by that shore, in the center of the shaft, at a table set for two. These motions you repeat. An acceptance of the space. An exploration of an empty world, with no mirrors and no masks. No pain. No loss. Nothing staring back.
 
Space and comfort.

Revision as of 08:18, 9 February 2014

The dream is of an open space, or a place, or somewhere far away. A beach, perhaps. A meadow. An elevator that does not move. A restaurant with tables set, facing an empty street. Whatever it is, or wherever, there is one thing that is certain. You are alone. No people. No faces, no masks, no words or smiles or rituals to fall into. These steps are yours alone. This place is yours.

All your life there have been people. Always people. Always the smiles, the company, the expectations, the rituals of life. Everything that falls into place, because there is always someone watching, someone to play for, to dance for.

There is noone here. A bit of wind that tickles and stirs the fields. The waves that lick the shore. The silence in the leaves. Only silence... and freedom.

It is overwhelming.

You sit in the grass, by that shore, in the center of the shaft, at a table set for two. These motions you repeat. An acceptance of the space. An exploration of an empty world, with no mirrors and no masks. No pain. No loss. Nothing staring back.

Space and comfort.