This was inspired by Liliara's dream thread. She mentioned writing down dreams and nightmares so that they could be reflected upon and remembered. This is one that may be of some interest. However, I didn't want to slap a huge post in the middle of her thread and obstruct any further conversation so I decided to give it it's own thread.
This is an excerpt from an account of a dream I had some time ago. I'm unsure as to it's meaning (if any), but it seemed important that I write it down at the time. Anyway, enough of my bluster. Make what you will of it.
Enjoy!
Soul’s End
An angel walked step by step across the empty pavement. His white wings were folded tightly against his back, braced against the waxing and waning breeze that flicked haphazardly about the deserted street. He was deep in thought, and his head hung low, allowing his cold blue eyes to stare distantly at the asphalt beneath his feet. More then anything, he was tired, and this silent, lonely morning was not helping to stir his senses. As he thought, a look of sadness crept over his face and his eyes narrowed slightly. He stopped and looked up to the sky above. It was clear and sunny, but the wind was making it a little colder then it would normally have been. The crisp air passed between his lips as he spread his wings and opened his arms, taking a deep breath. Then he let it out slowly, his wings folding back almost involuntarily as he did so. Looking down the street, he shook his head and sighed. After a while of standing and taking in his surroundings for what almost seemed like the first time, he brushed out his long white coat and sat on the pavement in one fluid movement, placing his feet over the kerb. His elbow rested on his knee and he placed his chin in an open palm. Time passed.
After what could have been an eternity the angel was jerked from his revere by a soft female voice. "Hello!" it said. The angel smiled and looked up. He recognised the voice and confirmed what his ears told him as he cast his eyes upward. A young woman was standing next to him on the pavement. She smiled down at him, but he noted the concerned look in her usually sparkling brown eyes. Her shoulder length black hair was worn in a simple yet elegant style, and a single red rose nestled between the curls. "Hello, " he said standing and brushing himself off, "what can I do for you today?" Seeing that he had noticed the rose, she reached up and carefully removed it. She held it out to him with an embarrassed smile. "For you," she said. He looked at it for a few seconds the look of sadness re-appearing momentarily. The angel had spoken to this woman many times. She made him happy, yet she had never given him a gift before. He looked up at her. She blinked and a frown began to creep across her face. "Please?" she said, holding it towards him. Slowly he reached out with a hand and clasped the stem of the rose. Her hand let go as he drew the flower close and looked down at it. As he watched, the red of the rose began to twist almost as if the wind were whipping it like a brush mixing paint. Gradually, strands of white began to appear and then they spiralled out of control leaving a few flecks of red which were chased off the petals and then replaced as if they were never there, replaced by the brilliant white. The angel looked at it in despair. "I’m sorry," he whispered, handing it back. The girl hesitated, then seeing the looking in his eyes, took the flower from him.
The angel shook his head and looked away. "Was there something you wanted?" he asked softly. The girl hesitated. "Um, yeah," she replied eventually. "There is a small problem down at the park." The angel turned back to look at her, a serious expression on his face. "What sort of problem?" he asked. The girl gestured across the road in the vague direction of the park. "There’s a patch of grass near where the trees are," she said. "Many people have gathered around it and begun to cry."
"Cry?" the concerned look on the angel’s face deepened. "Why?"
"I don’t know. I have spoken to some of those that have shed tears there but they cannot explain it either." She looked down at the rose in her hands. "It seems there is a great sadness there," she twirled the stem slowly between her fingers. "Is there anything you can do?"
"I can try," he replied. The girl nodded with a smile and then watched in awe as the angel spread his wings…
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"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure."
[This message has been edited by Sharpedge (edited 09-10-2001).]