Every night I have this vision, this dream. It is the exact same every time, all the words spoken, the smallest movements, always the same. I do not really comprehend it’s meaning, but then, should dreams really be interpreted? Should visions always be picked apart to know every small little fallacious meaning? But then again, maybe it would help … help me to understand.
I find myself in the middle of a forest. I cannot tell if it is day or night because the foliage of the tress is so thick, so overbearing. I think that it is night, though, as the light that is veiled seems more inviting, calm, not the harsh glint of the sun. It is cool and warm at the same time. The sweeping boughs of majestic trees encircle me and I cannot see anything, nothing. The smell of jasmine lingers in the air, it is enticingly sweet, inviting.
I walk forward without any will of my own, the soft swish swish of my silk gown making the only sound as I move. Before I had not realized that I wore it, wore this gown of old. It molded to my body, fit like a glove. The soft fabric of deep purples and reds surrounding me, leaving my shoulders bare; a heavy necklace of crystals hangs about my neck, dipping low, the lowest of them fitting snuggly at the top of my bodice.
That is when I see Her, lying there on the carpet of soft grass, almost like moss, or clovers. Her curling hair of raven is Her only covering; no mortal-made fabric could even be thought to be laid upon Her flesh, pale like the moon’s glow, of this otherworldly being. She is neither young nor old, a child or a croon; she is ageless like the wind and the heavens. She lies sleeping within a circle marked upon the ground in flower petals. Deep reds, pale whites, bright yellows, crimson drops, fading scarlets. I kneel beside Her but dare not touch.
Prayers swim to my mind unintended, invocations of an ancient goddess that has long been dead to the world. “Inanna…” I whisper the name softly, my words like silver curling in the air.
She stirs from Her eternal slumber and I draw back, apprehension about to spill over the edge of my awareness. My breath is caught in my throat as I watch Her sit up, slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, Her hair flowing over Her pale skin. It was such a contrast, but so beautiful, so perfect, the blackness of forever on the whiteness of innocence. Her eyes open and I am trapped.
They always warn you, never to look into the eyes of an immortal and now I understand why. Her eyes were blue, so blue, the deepest blue of the nighttime sky on a starless night, the blue of the deepest depth of the ocean. I was falling in those eyes, falling, falling … memories swam to me, visions of things I had long forgotten. The visions of lives I have lived a thousand times before this one, of wars and of empires, of beginnings and ends. They flashed by so quickly I could not remember all of them, but I saw death … so, so much death, and in so many forms. So much hate, so much pain. I began to cry. I could not have held the tears back if I had tried and little shimmering stars ran down my cheeks. I shook with it, with silent sobs; I had fallen forward, my hands holding me up, my nails digging into the earth, into my palms, and I bled.
She noticed me then and reached Her hand out. Her fingers cupped my chin and I stopped shaking, I released my hold upon the earth. She breathed out from between Her scarlet lips and Her breath made the visions stop. “Now you understand …” she whispered, both into my ear and into my soul. Her eyes looked sad, so sad, the sorrow of a thousand broken hearts captured in her glance. I nodded slowly. Yes, I understood.
She pulled me up from the ground and bade me follow Her. I followed Her and I would have if She had wanted me to go down into Her sister’s realm of the dead.
How long we walked I could not tell you, but it took the time of eternity and nothingness. A simple stone temple was before us, the forest embracing it, vines cradling it close in their womb. Like a ghost She glided into the opening, for no door barred visitors out, and I followed.
The feel of magic was thick in the air. I gulped the air, to pull it all in, to get some of it within my own being. Candelabra’s were fixed within the walls, all lit to guide those that had come to this place. Near the back of this stone chamber was an altar, with jasmine flowers sprinkled over the ground before it. She knelt upon the petals and bowed Her head, Her eyes closing; I felt awkward standing there behind Her and so took my place a little to the right and behind her, kneeling on the cold stone.
“My kind and I are long forgotten in this world … We are dead, all of us, except now … Me.” Her eyes opened and so did mine; and I watched Her and listened. “The bitter irony … we brought life to it, to all; we made all …and then it destroyed us. They lost faith, slowly, one by one. That is how We survive; from the faith of the people. But once that is gone …” She sighed then and I almost cried. How could that be, to feel like that? To know that once you were loved and then slowly started to die as people no longer believed in you or your powers?
“Different faiths started to appear and We weakened because of them; wars were fought and Our people were killed. And it continues to this day.” I wanted to speak, to say something, but what can one say to an immortal, to a goddess? To the Mother of Earth and Heaven? It would have been a crime to have spoken to one such as Her. “It will come when the circle is complete and We will be called upon once again. Someday, we will once again have believers in how the world once was.”
She rose then and left me there. She left me there all alone and I felt as if a part of my life had been stolen from me. I sat down where she had been before the altar and I reached out with my scrapped hands to hold on to the jasmine. I brought it to my lips and smelled it, tasted it. I let them fall to the ground and rested my forehead against the cold stone altar and wept, wept for the loss of our world. I knew that I could never go on again, not after knowing what the world once was and what it had now become, what it would be like for such a long time before it was to be remade again by those who everyone had abandoned; Yes, everyone had abandoned these gods that had given them life but never would They forget Their children.
I raised my head and I dried my eyes. Atop the altar there lay a stone knife, ragged and harsh. I grasped it and sliced the imperfect dress I wore at the bottom and set the ruined silk aside. I held my arm out and placed the blade against my pale wrist and slowly dragged it across my skin, letting my blood fall upon the pure white petals of the jasmine, letting my soul pour out in offering to the Mother. I set the blade aside and took up the silk and carefully wrapped it around my wrist and tightened it, to stop the flow of blood.
I felt faint but I had one last thing to do. I unclasped the necklace I wore and set it down, among the tears, the blood, the petals. And so I shed myself of my earthly attachments, just as Inanna had done so that she could walk through her sister’s realm of the Underworld. I lay down beside it and stared up at the stone ceiling, at the depiction of the night sky and the earth, of the eternal womb that gave life to us all. I felt the gentle breeze pushing against my skin. And I heard Her speaking to me … “Thank you for believing.” She whispered in the air and I smiled, feeling the warmth of the womb embracing me as darkness seeped in. And I closed my eyes.
That is how it always ended. Every time I have this vision it ends this way. Everything is always the same. The colors are always as vivid as they were the first time, the pain is always as deep, the sorrow so real. For as long as I can remember I have had this dream and I still do not completely understand what it means, what it is telling me, but I wish for a time in which the world is as it used to be. Maybe then … then I would not be haunted by it anymore, and I could finally sleep among the jasmine.