Razor Ridge / Bloodbear (dreams)

These are two dreams that i had.
note the date of the dreams, as they happened in reverse order


5/20/07

Razor Ridge


the room was dark and chilled and the air moist.  the hammock that i swung from didnt creak, i rocked silently in the room that seemed to be the hollow of a huge tree trunk.  the room was spacious, the ceiling tall, tall enough that i couldn't see it and it seemed decorated.  hanging from the unseen celing was all kinds of trinkets, amulets and charms.  some of them glowing faintly, others had moving parts that spun or rolled, yet all were out of my reach.  i slowly lower myself to the floor which is wooden like the walls.  very little light comes in through the slats of the door, and it seems to be firelight, not sunlight.  i test the handle of the door, afraid it may be locked on the outside and i were a prisoner.  it turns freely and the door swings open quietly on wooden hinges.  the platform on which i find myself is very large and open, much like a town square.  in the center is a large pit with a dying fire in it.  as i walk towards it i notice teh platform has rings... like when you cut down a tree, and count the rings to see how 'old' it is... i counted over thirty lines with every step, with 25 steps bringing me to the center.  the center is a large bowl carved into the wood with some kind of metal lining it.  the fire was dying but still warm.  i stretched out my hands to it and looked to the edges of the 'town square'.  now the room i woke up in made more sense.  it was the hollowed out trunk of another large tree, much younger that had grown right along side this one that i was on.  it seemed there were quite a few younger trees that grew up along side of this one, all with doors on the side.  some of the doors had stairs leading to them, all at different heights.  perhaps as those trees grew the doors rose above the level of the central tree, causing the need to add stairs as it grew.  i pulled myself from the comfort and warmth of the fire and walked the perimeter of the platform.  between a few of the trunks there were walkways that extended into the dark.  i took the one that had light on the other end.  a torchlight flickered faintly far out into the dark, so i headed that way.  i expected the walkway to end shortly and the torchlight to be on another platform further away still.  i was wrong, the torch was at the next platform.  somewhere along the walkway it began to rain, and a wind blew across the walkway causing it to sway many feet from side to side.  it was no more than a rope bridge, wooden slats a few feet wide, rope 'banisters' on each side for something to hold onto as it rocked.  after exploring the second platform i began to wonder if i was alone here....


the rite of passage to go on this journey, was a painful one.  it was designed to remind the onlookers and the ones about to leave of the hardships and pain that privious less fortunate explorers endured.  a design was carved deep into the palms, the bottom of the foot cut deeply with a blade made from Razor Ridge shale, one night on a ledge of stone, in the cold, wearing only the thinest of loincloths... all part of the Rites of Razor Ridge.  there were to be two of us going on this trip, as told by the scrying bowl.  we each carved a golem out of a chunk of soft wood and dropped them into the bowl.  the bowl was almost filled to the brim with a fluid that seemed to glow.  there were seven of us that were old enough to go on the trip, so we dropped in our golems, watched them sink slowly as they absorbed the fluid, then settled in to wait.  we waited to see which golem would float back up to the top, signifying which of us were to go to Razor Ridge.  TuGot's and mine were the only ones to surface, so it would be the two of us leaving the day after the rites....

Vixiah, the healer assigned to me, was as beautiful as she was mysterious.  her hair was long and a shade of green that made me think of the ferns in the forest that borderd Sol'Ra... i wonder where Alex'ra is, if she even exists in this time... her eyes were a very pale blue, but all blue, no iris, no pupil, just blue edge to edge.  she wore a tattoo that wrapped itself around her right eye, intricate, and finely detailed.  she was assigned to me to heal the marks on my palms and the bottom of my feet.  this she did without touching my skin.  the air between her hands and my carved flesh seemed to come alive with energy and a very warm yellow glow.  after half a dozen 'treatments' like this my hands and feet were healed, leaving behind the scars of the cuts.  the scars on my feet were there to remind me that men did this before without footwear as 'advanced' as i would have.  and the markings on my hands would allow me to identify who i was to locals without having to speak thier tongue....


i would be making this journey alone, as TuGot became nervous the afternoon before the rites began and had a few drinks with friends, which turned into a party, during which he passed out, and slept through a ritual that was as old as the trees he called home....


i found out later upon my return that he was banished, not from the trees, but from the whole forest.  as he was escorted out beyond the tree line, he took a few steps out towards the rolling meadows of The Plains, turned to face the ones that walked him there.  he held out a hand and his eyes glowed as he muttered a curse under his breath.  the warriors scoffed at his attempt to use magik, until TuGot stopped his curse, letting his lips curl into an evil smirk, and G'lath, one of the warriors dropped to the ground.  he dropped to the ground like 'fabric' one of the warriors said.  they found his skeleton lying in the grass near the pile of armor, skin, and inner organs that everyone saw fall.  it was as if TuGot displaced his bones right out of his body in an instant.  by the time the shock wore off the other warriors and they started toward TuGot, he was gone. vanished....


i was miles above the forest that i had called home for the last few weeks, clinging to the face of the mountain like an insect.  i was but a few feet from a ledge that i was sure would give me some rest and cover from the wind.  i reached the ledge, and pulled my elbows up and on top of it.  it wasnt big, a shelf just big enough for a few men to call a rest stop.  it was more than i needed, but id take it.  i drove the SpikeLink into the rock at the edge and attached my safte line to it, then pulled myself the rest of the way up.  just as my right knee came onto the ledge there was a sound i hadnt heard before in the wind, almost a whistling.  then i was falling, i had just enough time to wonder; had i slipped?  what was that sound? then i felt the left side of my head strike a small outcropping of rock...



12/6/06


Bloodbear

when i came to, i found myself hanging from a ledge... my saftey teather wrapped around my wrist, and caught on something up the sheer face above me.  the wind snaping my cloak around like a flag in a hurricane...

it seemed that i had fell, and knocked myself unconscious for a time, then woke up there, slowly swinging from my safety line, hanging above a chasm to which there looked to be no bottom.  above me was about 80 feet of sheer rock wall scarred with cracks and pits, below me... clouds..

i heard a voice from above me, barely audible, and what i could hear i couldnt understand.  but from the tones it sounded like someone was asking questions, i can only assume "are you ok down there" was in there someplace

unable to take a deep enough breath to respond due the pain in my shoulder, i just hung there, hoping who ever was up there was in the helping mood, rather than being alot bigger than me and hungry...

the pain that followed that thought was undescribable, i must have dislocated my shoulder when the safety line stopped me from falling, because as whoever it was above me pulled me up, every tug on the rope sent pain rippling through my entire body

the pulling stopped abruptly when i could be pulled up no farther without my wrist being broken at the top of the ledge above me, then a large hand grabbed my forearm and heaved me over the edge onto a shelf of rock, looking up through tears, as the pull just about ripped my arm right off my body, i saw the Sh'tuk standing there... his feet spread wide,this barrel chested, stout, short creature stood there arms crossed looking at me, rather unimpressed.  he looked like a man, but couldnt have been more than 4 feet in height, and his shoulders were about twice as broad as my own, big hands and feet with powerfully built arms and legs.  his deep red beard that went to his waist, was bound and seperated into three strands.  his hair the same colour as his beard was pulled up into a tail halfway between the top and back of his head.  his skin was the colour of freshly shead blood, and his eyes a green that looked like Chyphan Crystal.  he was clad in fur boots that extended up to his mid-thigh, thick trousers, tunic, and tightly wrapped hooded cloak that seemed to made from animal skin. i could see something circular on his back, which i assumed was a shield, and hanging from each hip was a massive axe, slung from his shoulder as my people were to do with their sword scabbards.

Perspective

time

dragging

like splintered fingernails across the blackboard of my mind

how is it that time seems to grind to a halt

especially when waiting for something important

or whilst enduring some kind of seemingly unending pain

---------------------------------------------------------


pain

he said, its my halucination
i asked him to explain
he said walk with me
we walked through the hospital...
he winced and said you see her?
i looked at a very attractive blonde tech in tight fitting scrubs...
yeah, why did you wince
she is in pain
most people dont notice, but i feel it
look at her arms
fading bruises in the shape of big man sized hands...
we keep walking
he winces again
what i ask, what now?
i notice a young guy in a wheelchair out the window
he is unable to walk, an amputee
i say as much
he grins through what looked like more pain than id care to hear about much less experiance
what would you do if you couldnt scratch an itch on the bottom of a foot that hasnt been there for years...
then he takes me up 3 floors...
knowing whats up there, i almost dont let him leave the elevator
three steps into the hallway and he falls to his knees, clutching his stomach as if to disembowel himself through vomiting...
we are a mere 75 feet from the cancer ward...
he is on the floor now, writhing in pain....
i pick him up and carry him to the elevator like a child cradled in my arms even though he out weights me by almost 60lbs
by the time we get to our floor he is standing on his own two feet again
we approach the ward, i unlock the doors
he steps through, turns to me and smiles...
thank you he says
for what i ask
for hearing me
for letting me show you what no one has taken the time to try to understand
and a tear rolls down his cheek
why the tear i ask
he says, i felt the migraine that you have been ignoring for our whole walk and never mentioned... thank you, you didnt have to do that
i know i said, but its what i do
you do it well
and he turned and walked away

we took a few more walks before that misunderstood man passed away...
the dr. couldnt explain it
they found him unconcious on the floor outside of the infant ICU... he died shortly after...
all i could do is cry...

pain?

yeah, unbearable? compared to some not even close

perspective
it has the power to change anything.

what a dream

odd twisted lines define his face, grotesque in every way, this thing that sits before me
is not human, what interstellar prison did he escape from? he stares at me blankly
no feeling in those deep dark holes that can only be his eyes. he is twice my size
ten times my strength, and with no heart, no feeling, no conscience, and a simple
will, he is infinitely more dangerous to me than i could ever be to him... i am armed
with a simple blade and projectile weapon, perhaps i can put hope in those to rescue me.
a foolish hope, but i have heard of lesser men overcoming more with even lesser hopes


he starts to move, not towards me but just to the side, towards the door,
still staring, never blinking those holes in his head... why does he retreat?
and to where? i sense no fear in him, only flat nothing. he cannot be second
guessing himself, there is no reason... that i know of...
the holes squint, very narrow slits now, no longer lifeless, almost glowing yet still dark
they pierce me, burn holes through me, as if i wasn't there...


an explosion of motion, he moves towards me with a speed that is hard for my eyes
to track, i drop to my knee and draw my weapon, but as i take aim he sails over me.
rolling to my back i somersault over to see him tackling a huge muscular creature just a
few feet past me, he tears it apart a limb at a time, showering me in a brown putrid
fluid that can only be some type of blood...


he is looking at me again, those staring holes... heaving with each breath, he is covered
with the creatures blood, dripping off him as if he had been swimming in it, the walls are
splattered, smeared and smudged with it... the gore is visually stunning, gut wrenching


the hand that holds my weapon is shaking uncontrollably as he starts towards me...
convinced this will be the last few seconds that i live, i bring the weapon up and aim at his face
those dark holes always staring, perhaps i can give him a third one in between them,
before the brown gore that runs down the walls and across the floor gets mixed with the red within me


he stops, cocks his head to the side, like a dog hearing an inaudible ringing...
his face contorts into what can only be a smile, i've lived a long life without seeing a demon's grin
i guess there is a first time for all things
is he amused at my stubbornness? why the hesitation? is this a game to him? pictures of a cat playing with a mouse before before pouncing on it dance in my head...
whats that noise?
sounds like
scratching....
ripping.........
tearing......
................




awww, stupid dog, what is she getting into now?
man, what a dream...
i should write this down....

waiting

alone
afraid
lost
none of those things describe me tonight
i have a renewed sense of creativity
its like waking from a long dreary dream
stories almost forgotten stir anew in my mind

i long to finish those stories
so many though... on which do i start?
exxes seems a good one, but too complex?
perhaps fuzzball comics...
so i do some animation, some render tests
and now i sit and wait for the numbers to be crunched

smooth digital jazz soothing me
the moon high in the sky
bright as the sun
a day away from being full

...........................

he sits on a deserted beach
waiting for her
he has been here for minutes that stretch into years
still waiting
seeing her face in his mind, he smiles
waiting
will she come?
the invitation was simple
meet me on our beach, ill be waiting
our beach
they met there
he was alone that day
beat up by life
getting away
she was walking down the shoreline
crying from the beating life had given her
not wanting to be alone
she did not see him
he saw her
he watched as she walked by
head hung low, tears flowing
it was almost midnight
the moon peaking out from behind thunderheads
making their way inland
she walks just past him, and stops
facing the powerful ocean
waves pounding in one after another
like the blows she received earlier from the day
a lost friend
a misunderstanding at work
a near miss on the highway
a past that haunts
pounding in one after another
he clears his throat almost inaudibly
she spins at the noise
and stares into the darkness
fear in her eyes
"who's there..?"
he stands
"just someone trying to get away"
no response
she glances around as if to seek some hideaway
some hole to climb into
some place to hide
"ill leave the beach to you if you need it"
"no" she says at last
"you ok?"
"no, not really"
"then we are two of a kind, then. want to talk about it?"
with a total stranger? oh sure
"not really"
he sits
"ok"
she stands there trying to see him
then walks towards him, slowly
and sits just to his right
...
silence

that was the first night they spent together
on this beach
two people just out of reach of each other
yet totally alone
he finally broke the silence with some of his own thoughts
she sat and listened for some time before she spoke a word
but once that word was spoken
a relationship started
they began "running into each other"
on that beach
at first hit and miss
he would show up hoping to see her again
and did not
she would take that walk
hoping he would step out of the darkness
offering an ear
and walk on alone
but the meetings began to be more and more often
not "planned"
but soon each time they sought out the beach
they found each other
talking until the sun came up over the line cut across the sky by the sea
they shared their pasts
their secrets
pains
loves
struggles
victories
exploring the depth of each other
as each would allow
..............
information was finally exchanged
a number
an address
then many days passed before either visited the beach
he took a chance today
leaving that note
not a chance meeting
an invitation
now he waits
did he cross a line?
would the magic of a "chance meeting" die with that invitation?
he waits
when do i get up and leave? he asks himself
how long do i wait?
waiting
oh well...
he stands, brushing the sand from his jeans
and looking up
he sees her...

If you were alone

its windy tonight
the chimes ringing
moving with borrowed life from the wind
singing a song to the world around them

triptrance audio files playing from small speakers
the sound that keeps my mind focused
the frequency that allows it wander
a beat that makes me want to move

surrounded by darkness
clouds hide the stars
it is midnight after all

sitting here in my own little world
fingers slapping away a this keyboard
this new world of brain dumping
a comfortable place for me to be

why am i so comfortable to sit here alone?
just me, myself and i
the three of us get along just fine
we are able to express our selves, unhindered

digital freedom

i guess the good things about being alone
no one to bother you
nobody to act for
no one to look at you funny
then again, the bad part is
youre alone

is it good to be alone?
sometimes
all the time?
no

i had a psych patient that told me once
"if i stop taking my meds
everyone goes away..."
he says his halucination is this
"the world empties
i am completely alone"

how long could a human mind handle that?
a day? a week? a month?
he did it everyday for about 6 years....
what would that do?
if you were absolutely convinced
that no one was around?

looking at this mans history
was a good indication
the things he had been picked up for...

walking about in a mall naked...
going on a test drive in a new car
but driving it to his home and walking
to his door with the keys....
unable to see or hear the sales guy demanding his keys back....
seeing something in a store he wanted
not seeing anyone else in the whole store
he picks it up and just walks out...

what would you do in a given situation
if you were convinced no one would see
or no one would ever know?
would you live differently?

if you say yes
then those things that you would do
undiscovered by those around you
are a very real version of who you really are
what your character is really like....

makes you think... doesnt it?

horror

horror

gore

a blood smattered wall

a carpet soaked in some kind of dark nastyness

a body

scenes from a tv show tonight

she winces

pulling her eyes from the sight

looks like one of my dreams i say...

how long have i dreamed such things...?

3 decades...

no, not every night

but more than i would have liked

why would i want to ever sleep again...?

there is always a chance of my darkest fears 

griping me to point of death

letting go just in time for me to wake

to face another day 

a chance ill be waist deep in some flood of gore

of chained down in the darkest pit my mind can provide

alone and lost in a forest of angry trees

trapped in that backyard that brings such hate

but, and as always there is a but

without taking those chances

there would be no alex'ra

ja'ul from i am cold would not exist

sparc, nrgy, and the kid of terra transport would not be

13, exxes, quandry, the monoliths

... and so many more

these places i have visited

the other worlds i have explored

some many times

are sweet departures

from the hell that i could visit

ive never considered myself a writer

but i have been writing now almost every night

perhaps one day ill put them all together

bind them up and share them with the world

not yet

only those closest to me are allowed to see in me

isnt that how it should be?

i think of stories i love to read

what if those people would have not shared?

so some day i will share

im sure someone will enjoy these ramblings of mine

in some way or another

Get out

i am getting good at this

not my ability to write

but the ability to get this

stuff out

out of my head

out of my mind

out of my heart

out of my soul

it happens with less words now

better focus perhaps

able to pinpoint what im feeling

very new for me

extremely cool

playing the same music

to get my fingers moving

get my mind flowing

getting the words out

feelings

some i used to hate

others that i feared

what if people knew i felt

this or that

as i talk with others

i find im not so alone

in these feelings

or at least some variation of them

i have some good friendships that

have developed lately

they have shown me new things

about me, about people in general

about them specifically

i understand now what i have heard so much

hearing 'you are a good listener'

now means so much more

the people that have listened to me

those friends i cherish

i dont think they will ever know

how much they mean to me

and on how many levels

although now the shallowness i see in some

frustrates me even more

how can you be happy in superficial bullshit?

happy?

perhaps not happy, but safe

there is a measure of safety

in staying within your walls

peeking out every now and again

so people around you know your still there

but not enough for them to really see YOU

lately ive had people challenge my gates

some gently

others with more force

but causing me to do more than peek out

those gates now swing wide at their approach

dont get me wrong they still slam shut

when others get near

but for the few that i have grown to trust

they open easily

trust

now there is a topic

one that i am not prepared to go over tonight

but maybe a peek....

do people really trust me?

should they?

do i trust people?

should i?

sure i trust you

do i?

actions speak louder than words

that phrase

so true

you can say all day

friend, love ya, good to see you

and then shout PISS OFF

with nothing more than a look

or a reaction to a word

the act of

'blowing sunshine up ones ass'

why do people do that?

the truth hurts

yeah, sometimes

but come on without it where are we?

decived or deciving

happily delusional

ignorance is bliss

blah blah blah

if your having a bad day

tell some one

if your just happy to be alive

say something

if you hate the person

tell them....?

now we are venturing into tact

i will not walk up to someone

that frustrates me to the core

and let them know

if they ask....

they had better be prepared for truth

brutal truth

but at the same time

only to say what i really feel

not to hurt

.......

how did i end up here?

these ramblings sometimes grow

beyond where i intended

at which point they become what they are meant to be

my mental dump

better to do it here than try to sort out some

jacked up dream

and with that i will retire

perhaps to a less vicious dreamscape

if not....

i will be writing again

it has to get out

somehow