The Harboring of Dreams

The aura of her radiance pierces my vision, its ends lost to the limitations of my mortal eyesight. She comes to me in my dreams, when I have reached the point of utmost serenity, when all my cares and inhibitions are lost to an unknown world. Her presence is perfection embodied, for I have not seen nor imaged a finer vessel. Her mere vicinage calms the most savage beast within my soul, and takes with it the trials and tribulations of my everyday life. In my dreams she awakens, and resplendent rejoice soon follows. Her soothing eyes of solacing blue enrapture and give warmth to my very being. A feint light emits from them, peering deep within me to seek out my greatest fears and ambitions, and to sate them to her satisfaction. Long white hair flows from her scalp, dissipating into the air around her, lost in her very luminescence. It flows from her as water might, in wispy waves enchanting. It frames her lovely features so delicate, so ginger, the fragility of her outer self betrayed only by the strength of her character.

So noble is she, so regal, it defies to even think of why she has chosen to grace my dreams with her presence. Perhaps it is to toy with me, to tease beyond temptation, to have me cave to my most inner desires only to laugh as I at last reached out to her. No matter, I shall enjoy her in all her glory nonetheless. She is not so clear to me, as she first approaches, that I can tell little else than the flowing folds of her most noble of dresses, which flows behind her as her hair does, to be lost in the mists that surround her. A deep shade of emerald green is her noble gown, with long sleeves and clasped tightly about the tender flesh of her neck and throat, so much a part of her that discerning where her flesh begins and her gown ends is difficult indeed. Her features are nearly lost to me from the brightness of her radiance, and the swirling tendrils of mist that surround her. More and more closely she floats towards me, causing my heart to quicken pace, until at last, she is almost upon me, and suddenly I am awake. I have driven her away, like so many times before. Shall she ever elude me? Shall my fear override my subconscious mind to awaken every time she draws near? I fear it to be true, but dismiss it as nonsense, for it would be a tormented existence indeed. To draw so close, ever so close, and end in futility, is more than I am able to bear.

Again sleep overtakes me, and I await for her return. My sleep of anxiety keeps her further from me, and it is long before my mind settles into unfettered dreams, to the lands where my lady dwells. Again she floats toward me, ever beckoning, a smooth cooing escapes her lips, interrupted only by my own gasps of apprehension. Ever closer, but oh so far away, every moment of this torture tantalizing and tedious, a torture unfathomable to even the most cruel at heart. She draws near, and I reach out, stumbling as my fingers nearly brush the soft skin of her cheek, to fall into an unending oblivion. I awaken in a cold sweat, to salty moisture stinging my eyes and drying the lips of my mouth. Oh, how I had come so close! So close and yet, so far away, a glimpse of her face was all that could be had.

Every night for weeks the dreams remain unchanged, always ending in my own freefall into nothingness, and each time unable to take in the full beauty of her features, for fear of blindness caused by looking upon the divine. My fear keeps me from her, I know it, and yet am I unable to counter its effects. I awaken each morning in a cold sweat, fearing the moment that has yet to come. I feel weakened, disheartened of late, no doubt caused by these failures in my dreams. I know not how much longer I can sustain them without some long term devastation to my mental capacities.

Last night was different than many others. In all others I would find myself desperately searching her out with every limited moment of my sleep. This time, however, I am paralyzed, and unable to move. The pain is agonizing, I feel myself fall very near to an outburst of tears the likes of which has never been known to me. This would surely be the case, save that my very tear ducts seem unable to act, much like the rest of my body. She floats, painfully close to me, passing just inches from the end of my nose. My inability to move denies me from turning away, and I am forced to look upon her for the first time. She is more beautiful than even I had imagined, a soft echo of my wildest imaginations. Perfectly chiseled features lie amongst her grandeur, surrounded by white skin and long flowing hair of like pigmentation. So close! But still I cannot reach her. If I were only able to reach out to her, to convince her to remain at my side. She bears a look of sadness in her eyes, and floats around me mercilessly. She whispers into my ear, oh so delicately, asking me to touch her. But I cannot, and her saddened features deepen noticeably. Does she think that I do not want to touch her? Pray let that not be the case! She asks me once again, and receives the same silence as a response. She turns to leave from me, her entire demeanor seemingly saddened by this occurrence. I can do little more than scream silently as she drifts away from me. As she does, the light that follows her fades from view, and at its last vestiges, the darkness overtakes me, and I again fall into the void of nothingness.

It has been many days since the last that I laid eyes upon her loveliness, and I fear that I shall never lay my own eyes upon her again. These thoughts are unwelcome indeed, and I feel as a disheveled old man, despite the youth that stares back to me from the mirror of my own chambers. I see circles of darkness below my eyes, as if I had not slept in days, though not for lack of trying. If find myself lying in bed more now than ever, praying to whatever gods will listen that sleep will once again take hold of my conscious mind, and bring me back to her realms. I have even begun to partake of certain concoctions meant to help the mind reach that peaceful state of mind that sleep holds. The methods I used to acquire these mixtures is no doubt better left unsaid, though I will mention here that the patients for which they are needed will have a difficult time trying to find them. Even these seem to have little effect, and I fear that she is lost to me, and that I will die an early death in my search.

At last she returns to me! After all this time she returns, perhaps to see if I have changed my stance towards her absolute beauty. All of my worries and fears that she would never come again slowly dissipate as she glides through the ethereal air that stands between us, ever so slowly. I await her agonizing approach patiently, as patiently as I am able, and yet she comes to me ever so slowly, flirting with the very emotions that barely hold me together, and yet so threaten to tear me apart. She seems so clear to me now, even at this distance, much unlike the dreams where I first cast eyes upon her. She seems so far from me now that I am unable to tell if she does indeed move towards me or further away. I shall wait for her nonetheless. Is she leaving? She seems less defined now, less substantial. I can barely make out the outlines of her form. I attempt to move through the foreign air about me, so thick it is that I am reduced to swimming through its space with very little progress. For hours it seems have I swam towards her, but it seems that the closer I do indeed get to her, the more blurry she becomes. Perhaps the radiance of her aura blinds me as I approach. Somehow this reassures me and I pour every effort into reaching her, closing my eyes to muster the strength. I push my body beyond its mortal limitations, as these are, after all, the manifestations of my dreams. Farther and farther I travel without looking up, for fear that I will be blinded by her full glory. Suddenly I feel myself falling, falling into the oblivion that had claimed me so many times before. My eyes open to see naught but black nothing before them, and I wonder if indeed my eyes ever truly opened. Farther and farther I fall, until I once again awaken in a cold sweat. Damn these infernal dreams!

Again my dreams awaken to find me in a different place than I have seen before. This realm of my imaginations has ground and vegetation, with wild trees swaying in the feint breeze that passes along the meadows. Tall lush grasses dampen my toes with a morning’s dew, and vivid colors abound all about me. I look about furiously, unable to find her. So long do I wait that sleep within sleep overtakes me, and therein does she appear to me. I reach out, slowly, so as not to startle her, and brush her soft cheek with my fingers, and she recoils at first from the warmth of my touch, but soon, becomes acclimated enough to allow me to trace her features with my fingers. Her skin is very cold to me, and yet she exudes a warmth that surrounds her which confuses my senses. She mimics my every movement, her own hands lying upon my brow ever so softly. I take her hand in mine, and lay softly upon them my lips, while taking in full the scent of her skin and hands. Were it not for the rest of her, the scent alone would drive me mad, so refreshing and soothing, much like her ever so sweet voice and tenderness. I continue to trace my fingers along the curves of her body, now lying next to me in the luscious grasses beneath. Sensuous kisses are soon to follow, with an impassioned embrace that would not soon escape my memory.

I awaken slowly this day, and I know not how many days have passed behind me. I shiver from the effects of a lingering cold, despite my being in full dress and covered with every last bit of bed sheet that I own. I awaken next to my bed, huddled in the corner as a frightened animal, feeling so cold, ever so cold. I muster the strength to bring myself to the small window of my chambers, and see the two suns in full glory, and can see the heat emanate from their fiery orbs. The land around me is in full bloom, reaping the benefits of the warmth of mid spring. And yet I am cold, freezing as I have never been, barely able to even hold the quill with which I write. In seeming protest of life that surrounds my chambers, the pallor of death hangs about me.

Again sleep overtakes me, and again I lie at her side, catering to her every need and desire. There seem to be other, smaller creatures about, insubstantial and barely existent, but still they are there. In these dreams I feel warmth, unknown to me now in my trials of wakefulness, further alienating me from my true life to the one held only in my dreams. We speak more this time, and I beg of her to bring her warmth with her into my reality, to be with me in all facets of my life, as I can no longer stand to be away from her for the length of the day. She blushes slightly, apparently touched by my affections for her. She agrees that she will transcend my dreams, though the time is not right. Glad at this turn of events, I fail to conceptualize the length of time that it might indeed take her to sojourn from my dreams and stay at my side. Long would it be indeed, before I again laid eyes upon her.

She no longer appears to me in my dreams, and I fear that the toll that her absence is taking on me is too much to bear. I find myself nearly unable to move from by bed chamber of late, so cold am I, that my limbs refuse to answer my call of them. I feel as an old man might, as my hands tremble before my eyes, and my limbs appearing more frail than I can remember looking upon in my memory of memories. I pray that this torment does not persist much longer, for I fear that my mind is slipping as well.

After what seems to have been months, she again appears to me, and finally I feel some release from the ever present coldness that plagues my body. Perhaps I see her more fully now, or perhaps it has been so long, for I see ever so faintly the lines upon her brow, and her body seems more tired, less full of vigor than the image I have kept sacred in my memories. She whispers into my ears, and says only that the time is near, when she will be always at my side, as I have desired of her. I thank her for her efforts, and reach out to touch her, but find myself falling into oblivion once again. Ah, the penance to love one such as she, an apparition of my dreams and fantasies, and then to ask it to travel with me back to the lands of the living? Perhaps I am daft, and my mind is indeed slipping from me at this moment. It matters not, I finally decide, I will wait for her nonetheless.

It is perhaps a year before she appears to me once again, this time she seems stronger, more powerful. She tells me that the time is now, and beckons me to her side. She asks me again, if this is truly what I desire. I plead to her my love, and she smiles, ever so slightly. And so it shall be, she says to me, and drifts closer to me, and my arms open wide, welcoming an embrace. She comes towards me, and I close my eyes. A force stronger than any other I have ever known pushes me backwards. My eyes open to seen her outstretched hand hurtling away from me as I am cast away into oblivion.

She is with me now, in dreams and in life, though in no physical form does she cling to, and seems to exist only in my head, a manifestation as she has perhaps always been. She is with me always now, and I revel in her company. I feel compelled to perform her every wish, whatever the cost to myself and those around me. I feel colder still, but her warmth inside me allows me to move about, her soothing voice calming my very soul. It is a very comforting thought, one that keeps the smile upon my face etched in stone. It is a feeling like few others that have graced my being. She is one with me, and I with her, for the rest of our lives.

She appears to age, as I do, at a rapid rate. She seems more haggard than I remember, but perhaps I have simply grown used to her and her beauty no longer enamors me. I fear the latter, for that would describe of me a very uncaring man. Little else seems to matter to me than her presence, and I am content to wander about aimlessly sharing in her revelry and her sweetest of voices. She, however, seems to bore quickly and asks me to do things for her, to which I comply faithfully. My subconscious mind seems to have taken over the one that views the world around it, for I no longer care for it at all. I awoke this day with blood on my hands, and I am curious as to where it has come, since there are no visible wounds upon my own body. I have come to in a place unknown to me, a manor of some sort or another. I am huddled in the corner, as has been my custom, and stretch to move stiffly. As I rise to stand at the bed beside me, I see only sheets red with blood. Seeing this, I bolt from the room and out into a long hallway, instinctively passing through a door to my left. I stumble as I reach a large flight of stairs, and roll to the bottom. A numbing pain has set in through my entire body, but I rise nonetheless, and run through the doors before me and into the open air. I seem to no longer differentiate between reality and my dreams, for that one seemed real enough. She tells me that it was, and that it was indeed a terrible crime that I committed despite her words against it. She seems more wicked to me now, and I have this nagging suspicion that I perform these acts of violence at her behest. It frightens be to think it so, but acts such as these were unknown to my mind before her arrival, and become more and more commonplace since.

I delve within my mind to gaze upon her more fully, and see a withered woman, with a wicked smile and eyes colder than my own body. The sight fills me with terror, and I scream out to her, beg her to return to me my lady. She laughs at me maniacally instead, looking upon my pleading face with derision. I flee from my subconscious as quickly as I am able, but she follows me still, the withered hag is haunting my every thought. I am cold, like before, only deeper, as my very soul turns to ice and sends ripples of shivering through my entire body. I am unable to hold myself upright, the cold is so fierce, and I am left to huddle in the corner clutching my legs to my chest, hoping beyond hope that they will warm me as she once did. It works to no avail, but I can think of little else to combat her lunatic ravings.

I drift in and out of consciousness, each time confronted with the maddening apparition of the maddened hag, withered and frighteningly fierce. She looks nothing of the lady for which I fell, having gradually shifted into this hunched crone with large probing eyes and talons where her nails once were. Her pasty green skin and dark hair leave little trace of my memories, and her hideous laughter all at once wakes me in fright and sends my mind into submission to her own. I can feel her dominating thoughts interrupting my own, and can do little to stop my body from performing her wicked deeds. Soon I fear that I will have no control whatsoever, and that my mind will be fully taken over by the mind of the hag that haunts my dreams, nay nightmares. Seldom are the moments when I have enough control over my own body to write these notes in this journal, which have become more and more infrequent. Indeed, even now I feel nearly lost behind her maddening reigns…