A dream that comes only once is oftenest only an idle accident, and hasn't any message, but the recurrent dream is quite another matter--oftener than not it has come on business.- Mark Twain "Three Thousand Years Among the Microbes"
Perhaps it was all the talk of dreams lately. The fearful thought within me that I had perhaps been careless in my private war and somehow touched others with it. Had it been Leonette speaking of her experience with dreams? Had it been T'zuri telling me of the night of her headache? There were so many angles .. so many different cogs and spines fitting together and I did not have the whole picture yet. How one thing lead to the next to form a smooth vision.
How long had it been since I dreamt of the paper doll? I had lost some kind of connection there. Something that had brought me closer was now far away. Was she still alive? Either as a person or part of my imagination? I could not answer that. Since Holo had brought me back from the forest I had not attempted much with the Dream War. The very thought of it made me tired. Hate was wearing me down.
For whatever reason though .. as I felt T'zuri's hip beneath the grip of my hand I slid into a dream. With this one it was easy enough of a transition .. I knew I was going .. and when I left. I let the place awaken to me with patience.
It was dry .. hot ... I felt the normally solid ground shift beneath my feet. It was an unsettling feeling. Like when one stands on the sand along the stream only here .. there was no place solid to step back to. The air was almost still .. like fevered stale breath that barely lifted a tired chest. When I opened my eyes I thought the world must be on fire .. the orange and black glow that seemed settled over every horizon .. but there was nothing to burn. There was only a sea of sand and an empty Sky.
When the wind walks through the grass it leaves moving breathing .. alive patterns that shift and wave. Here the wind had walked .. but a long time ago. They were fossil patterns across the sand. Mixed among the long dead footprints of the wind were other foot prints. Later footprints. Someone had walked this way not long ago .. tiny grains of sand still cascaded to the bottom around the edges. I followed these prints .. they were neutral of course for sand swallows most every identifying trait. It seemed like I walked forever and yet it seemed like I had gone no where. Still the tracks stretched away from me and behind me with no possible way to mark how far or how long.
And then I saw them circling. Three birds. High above they were not interested in me .. it took another forever to reach what they were interested in. It was a woman. Small of stature with black hair that hung about her like a tattered shroud. One after another the birds would swoop down on her and cause her to stumble .. falling to her knees in the sand ... every time she tried to stagger to her feet they would drop down and beat their heavy wings about her head and shoulders. I took another step forward but I felt the shifting sand suck inward and swallow my leg up passed my knee. I threw myself backwards clawing at the sand desperate to pull myself away from the bottomless hole. Great clawed handfuls in a quick rhythm saved me and I rolled away from the liquid sand. I felt sweat running down my brow stinging my eyes and I tried to wipe it away across the scars of my cheeks.
She was so light .. out there walking on the liquid sand ... so small and light she did not sink. But I was much to heavy and I could not get to her. I would make it not three jumps before I would be sucked under to drown with sand in my eyes .. my mouth ... my throat and lungs. Still the birds harassed her and I could do nothing to save her. Where was she trying to go? Why was she here .. lost in this place alone?
I tried to call to her but the moment I did I woke .. drenched in sweat ... my forehead between T'zuri's breasts. I drug myself up and away from her .. she was sleeping still. The steady rhythm of her breath soothed the slow ease of panic as I placed myself once more with her there .. in my wagon. I drew the furs over her to keep her warm for I knew I had been like a furnace next to her and without me at this point .. she would chill easily. I had to find some air .. cool air against my fevered skin.
It was the dark before the dawn .. the quietest time of night and I strode from my wagon towards the steam. The camp silent and asleep. I needed a few moments alone. To process .. though ... so strange I felt I had nothing to process. This dream felt very far away from me .. out of my control .. out of my hands entirely. Like it had nothing to do with me .. I was a visitor only .. a spectator to an event that I had no place with or ownership of. How could this be? Was I not there for a reason? Were not the signs of the woman and the three birds important to me? I did not feel so .. why did I not feel so? Why could I not connect? Not only could I not save her this time but .. for some reason ... I did not care. That is the thing that unsettled me more than anything else about the dream itself. The disconnection disturbed me to my very core.
To dream and to care was like torture .. to dream and not to feel connected was like the peace of death.
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