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The Dreaming Hour
The twilight hour, a dreaming hour of questions that will never have answers. In the hours of velvet blackness sprinkled with diamond points I still try and find the answers to the questions life presents me with. No matter how I look and how deep I delve within myself those questions remain unanswered. Every night I try in vain to find the answers.
No companion aids me on this quest, I am alone but only because I chose it to be so. I let the companions come and go so they may help those who need it and to peruse their own quests for the answers. We all have quests, some large and some small, some who remain unanswered while others still are answered enough to be left alone. Deep in the hours of the night I know my quest will never be abandoned, it is one that must be answered.
Hoping to think myself to sleep I mused quietly, “Who knows, we could all be insane here. Those who are insane think they are normal and perfectly sane; it is others who judge them and deem them otherwise. Others say insanity is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting a different result,” sleep started to take over but I had some final musings to voice, “Who knows, in my quest I may be insane, if I am I enjoy it.”
The wind that is in my hair, the strain on my wings as I fight to stay aloft and the ground I dance above are all so real to me. Dancing above the rooftops I see all from a birds eye view. An angry buzz comes out of nowhere and crashes into me. I fly for all that I am worth, swooping close to the ground then high into the sky.
Bleak sky above me and cracked dirt under me, no more wings but a sword in hand. Suddenly as enemies surround me I am a little girl in way over her head. I can’t make it is the thought repeating itself over and over in my mind as the fighters come closer. The sword in my hand moves itself, blocking strikes but not dealing any of its own. I could stay there forever blocking the blows until one could get threw or I chose to deal one of my own.
I can smell new grass on the wind and it gives me something to fight for. Everything is focused now giving a new edge to the battle. The sword I hold in my hand has weight now as I can see that it is a katana. Its silver blade curves gently and the hilt is wrapped in black leather that is warm in my grip.
My sword still guides itself through the blocks but I can attack when I see an opening or there is a lull in the battle. Swords flash in the light that has managed to get through the haze in the air. Finally I strike a man, he falls on the ground. He is not bleeding or dead but merely unconscious or sleeping, I can’t tell which. The others soon fall too and I see what lies beyond the haze in the air.
I can’t take it in before I fall like the men did. My head is throbbing when I rise from where I fell and I know this is where my mind wanted me to be going all along. This is my time; I am here to prove myself. To whom I do not know but it is vital that I do well. Wind whistles in my ears as I fall backwards, trusting myself to my instincts and the magic that I can tell is in the air. Flashes of the side of the concrete and metal building I fell off of flashed in the corners of my eyes. Besides that only the clear blue sky surrounds me. I wear all black leather and the loose jacket seems to form a single black wing on my left side. The illusion fades as I flip and land on the ground from my ten story fall.
Enemies are back and I let my instincts tell me where to run. My mind wanders as I race to wherever my instincts are telling me to go, my feet pounding the hard concrete and soft grass as I cut corners. I wonder in a daze, where are you brother? You are supposed to have my back. Where am I really going and who am I? Whoever my brother in this world is he does not come but I still was guided by my instincts and they did not let me pause as my enemies drew nearer, their voices muffled by masks and the snapping of their cloaks in the wind. I sense my destination is near, I can almost reach out to touch is when an alarm pierces the air. It is bullet ending my life in this dream world and I am awake.
Panting slightly as if I had been running I muttered, “Brother, brother, why weren’t you there, brother? Why did you let them shoot me, why brother?”
I calmed down slightly but still muttered, “You left me brother when you could have shared my glory. You left me to die brother and I did brother.”
Realizing it was only a dream I breathed deeply I turned off the still beeping alarm and wondered who my brother was. He betrayed me whoever he was and left me to die. Now I can’t prove myself to whoever I had to, perhaps I didn’t die. With that thought I drifted back to sleep.
My question may never be answered because of the alarm I forgot to turn off. That dream still waits in the back of my mind, waiting to come out and give me my answer. Who is the real me, the one in the dream or the earthbound child lying on the bed? That is my quest, to find who I am. My question is simple in words but endlessly complicated in its answer. From the stories I have let take over my life to the dramas that play in my mind I am always asking my question. The dream was the answer but it was cut short, in the real world it could have lasted a second but it has left an eternity of pondering.