Dreaming can be wonderful. One can go anywhere, do anything, be whatever one pleases. Then again, dreams may not always be pleasant. Such as it was for a young girl, not more than six years of age, who would see a "Dark Angel", almost every night in her dreams. The Angel took her through pages of history, that were not pretty at all. No indeed, hers were nightmares of terrible wars; of widespred pestillence; of watching loved ones mercilessly tortured to death, for not believing as they should; of seeing her own death, in many different ways. It has been said that when a person knows they are dreaming, it becomes possible to wake up, or control the outcome of the dream. Perhaps at six, dream control is a little difficult, but she always knew that she was dreaming and was still unable to wake up. Her solution was, perhaps, a crude form of dream control in that she would try to turn the page...make it go away! When she did this, a huge book would appear and the pages would start to flip, and when they stopped, sometimes the dreams would get better, sometimes they would not, but they always changed to something different. One might think that perhaps this childs mother read her some pretty scary stories. However, this was not the case. Perhaps she had watched a movie that she wasn't suppose to, or had memorized one to many nursery rhymes. She would say this children's prayer every night before bed: Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. Keep me safe all through the night, In the morning, and all my life. And lead me not into temptation, But deliver me from evil. For thine is the Kingdom, And the power, And the glory forever. Amen. The words to the poem were altered slightly because the way the original poem was written, scared her. The end might be recognized as the ending for "The Lord's Prayer" Because she was not sure to whom she prayed, and felt that would pretty much cover whomever was in charge. As time passed and interests turned outward, she thought about her Dark Angel less and less. Until he appeared on her 13th birthday in a very profound meeting. She wears a black cloak, walking along a pebble path. There is not even the sound of a cricket churping. All is still. Even the thick mist that surrounds her bare feet seems unaffected by her presence. Walking through it, the fog swallows her footsteps and stiffens as though she had not stirred the air as she passed. This fascinates the girl, and she wants to kick at the fog, to make it stir...but she is unable to do so.
It has been said that when a person knows they are dreaming, it becomes possible to wake up, or control the outcome of the dream. Perhaps at six, dream control is a little difficult, but she always knew that she was dreaming and was still unable to wake up. Her solution was, perhaps, a crude form of dream control in that she would try to turn the page...make it go away! When she did this, a huge book would appear and the pages would start to flip, and when they stopped, sometimes the dreams would get better, sometimes they would not, but they always changed to something different.
One might think that perhaps this childs mother read her some pretty scary stories. However, this was not the case. Perhaps she had watched a movie that she wasn't suppose to, or had memorized one to many nursery rhymes. She would say this children's prayer every night before bed:
Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. Keep me safe all through the night, In the morning, and all my life. And lead me not into temptation, But deliver me from evil. For thine is the Kingdom, And the power, And the glory forever. Amen.
As time passed and interests turned outward, she thought about her Dark Angel less and less. Until he appeared on her 13th birthday in a very profound meeting. She wears a black cloak, walking along a pebble path. There is not even the sound of a cricket churping. All is still. Even the thick mist that surrounds her bare feet seems unaffected by her presence. Walking through it, the fog swallows her footsteps and stiffens as though she had not stirred the air as she passed. This fascinates the girl, and she wants to kick at the fog, to make it stir...but she is unable to do so.
The path starts to steeply decline and I find myself on a very damp, spiral stair made of brick. Reaching out and touching the brick, it is ice cold. But I am warm. Continuing to descend, round and round; looking beyond the stair, there is nothing but darkness. I begin a futile attempt to count my steps, so as not to get lost on the way back, always losing count (this stair is never ascended, only descended). When I reach the bottom, there is a golden path that turns into a bridge overlooking blue emptiness. The bridge stops about halfway between the blue and shrine of sorts. The shrine is beautiful and shimmering with light. Two women come up behind and remove the cloak. Stepping forward on the path over the bridge, I do not hesitate, though I've reached the end of the bridge. I have no fear that I will fall. A dark softness is there for my feet to step on.
The dark softness takes me to a large pool of deep purple water. Slipping in the warmth, I am overcome by the most incredible feeling of completeness, rushing through my being. His hands gently slip over my shoulders from behind. His lips brush lightly along my neck as I turn to look into the most beautiful crystal-blue eyes, we dance in the water together, every stroke in perfect syncronization. He sees deep into my very essence, and I into his. We are one, and all is understood. He has always been with me, and he will always be with me. If I ever need anything, I can come to him and I will get what I need in the same way, yet always different. Until we meet again, my Angel, Fare thee well.
For my Dark Angel:
We ride the shadows of the night Together as before, Unraveling life's mysteries, Unlocking every door. Dancing on the moonlit shore Writing our names in the sand We swim in life eternal We are as one since time began. But why must you always go away? Left alone to face another day? All graphics are links back to the sites where they originated.And once again a special thanks for permission to use graphics by © Robin Wood 1997 and Delight's Fantasy Art, as well as Alternate Realities in Art in Thought for the beautiful art by Don Maitz. "For my Dark Angel" ©Crystal Moon 1998