Tag Archives: Dragon

TALK

HAPPY NEW YEAR

OLIVER

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Freedom

Oliver


THE WALK DOWN

He is gone.  Left without a word.  All Oliver and I found were some images, a dream’s description and a list of instructions about his house and pets.

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The stone dropped.  I felt its rough edge slip from my fingers.  In that moment the dream started yet at that moment, I felt I had let go of something important, something I had been clinging to for a long time with no memory of why.  The stone fell to the ground landing in white, powdery sand.  The impact scattered debris right and left and when settled, my old talisman took form.

The design brought tears to my eyes.  For too long I have be on a path leading from this one scrawling in the sand.  No more I thought and tried to erase it with my foot.  But it wouldn’t erase.  Even with the sand soft and my foot sweeping back and forth the design remained.  Dropping to my knees I dug deeply but the markings lingered.  This was too much.  Life as I have known it began with this portent and now apparently, everything it represents is a sham.

I collapsed, my entire body shook with violent sobs.  I was wracked by anger, grief and loss.  Tears flowed uncontrollably as moans and screams poured from my mouth.  I vented like this till exhausted then just curled up on the sand with nothing left.  I laid there as the sun went down and came up eleven times.  On the eleventh sunrise, a large gummy glob landed on my face.  I wiped at it but a slimy residue just smeared sticky on my cheek.

Even though the sun was blocked, heat still caressed my face and body.  Looking up, I saw a dragon.  Not one of Oliver’s dragons but a beast unimaginably large.  It grunted, moved away and shook its head.  There was no fear.  What did I care if I was blasted by flame or eaten?  Besides, I knew this was a dream.  It walked around me and sat.  The eyes were kind.  With a claw, it drew another familiar design in the sand; the triangle made of lines from an Oliver dream I had months ago.  First row had four short vertical lines, then three below, two below that and ending with a single dash capping the apex of an upside down triangle.

The dragon leaned back on its haunches and looked down at me.

“You want to talk?” I asked.

It should its head.

“Then talk.”

And it did.  The voice was much softer than I would have guessed from an animal so big.  It was Grandfather’s.

“Pissed, aren’t ya‘,” the dragon responded.

“Leave me alone!”

“Not gonna‘.”

“You’re not Melanie’s father, are you?”

“Never said I was.  Nice tidbit to help package up your insanity, though.”

“Nothing is real?  I’ve made it all up?”

“What’s real?”

“I have no idea.”

“Then you’re not a lost cause.  Let’s walk.”

We began strolling through the desert like old friends.  And to be honest, it felt normal, walking and talking with this very large beast.

“You were looking for closure.  But, Moses, this is only the beginning.”

“Beginning?”

“Yes.  Pieces are in motion.  We all play our parts.”

“Cogs in the machine?”

The dragon stopped, put a clawed paw on my shoulder, and stared off looking at the far horizon.

“The machine doesn’t use cogs.  It’s more fluid with concepts unconceivable yet so simple.  You just need to keep walking.”

And with that he pointed towards a line of shadow people.  They walked towards what I can only describe as a vortex of spinning energy and stars.  I walked, too.

“Keep walking.  Find the pieces and oneness will be yours.”

“You always were full of shit.”

“And always will be.”

I kept walking.  Closing in on the first shadow figure I felt pulled as if by a magnet.  The figure didn’t turn around just kept trudging on.  I tried to leave the line but was trapped, the pull too great.  Then the figure before me began to dissolve.  Like grains of sand merging his granular parts became part of me.  When he was completely gone, I felt stronger, less angst filled.  The line of shadow people strung out in front of me heading straight on to the vortex.

I walked up to the next shadow person and absorbed it,too.  Then the next and the next and the next and on down the line until I stood alone in front of the vortex.  Its maw  lay open like a swirling mouth of teeth.  The outer edges were lined with stars and gas clouds.  In the center was a pin point of light.  I reached for it and was sucked in grain by grain as if slowly releasing each shadow person I had absorbed.  And just before the last fragment of my soul felt the pull from the other side, a voice stated simply, “You are your own fundamental.  You have only to find your scale, your life, your universe.”

If the vortex finished devouring me, I will never know.   As with all dreams I woke too early.  I’ll not try to interpret this vision.  I will follow the only concrete action given; Iwill walk.  Australian Aborigines call it walkabout.  Shamans take to the wilderness for years on end, and now I too will trek for a while lost in the wastelands of the moment.  No longer will I look for answers but only follow the call of dreams.

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I don’t know where Moses has gone, when or if he will return.  I will do what I can to continue his work and presently that is helping Oliver acclimate to this world.

Melanie Matthews


Dragons 3

Three in a row.  I have had three consecutive dreams of the boy battling dragons, or a dragon.  Historically, this happens once, maybe twice a month.  Yet, three in repetition.  Is this communication or just a lazy subconscious repeating stale material night after night?

Dragon Dream 3:

The challenge had been scorched in the dirt at the edge of the boy’s pond.  Again, dragon.  Again, undecipherable.

The boy, emotionless as he read the steaming missive, sipped the last of his green tea.  In the distance, he saw the dragon flying out onto the desert plain.  It landed at a distance that made its bulk diminutive.  This would require a mount.  The boy stepped back inside.

Within his Baobab tree, he left his cup in the sink and stepped to his armory.  With careful consideration, he selected a two handed sword perfectly balanced for his size.  Next a lance of ginormous proportion made from the ivory of a massive elephant tusk.  And finally, his shield with family crest, radio waves squiggling across a sun and moon fashioned by his own hands out of dragon scales.  This was his prize.  Everything else in this world popped into being with only a thought.  This shield he had made.  It was real and warmed to his touch.

Weapons picked, the boy walked outside and imagined the fiercest horse he could.  Particle by particle, the horse appeared, snorting and digging at the dirt under its heavy girth.  The boy visualized tack and armor for his war horse and that too appeared strapped properly in place.  Fully attired for battle, the boy leapt on his mounts back.

He rode out onto the desert plain watching his dragon nemesis the entire journey.  The dragon never moved.  It laid motionless on the sand much like a cat begging for food.  Heat wobbled vigorously up from the desert floor.  As he grew near his enemy, it appeared as if he was descending into hell and the reptile waited to guide him the last mile.

Finally, straddling his mount, the boy faced the dragon from a mere twenty feet.

“You left me a message,” the boy shouted.

“Arrraarrrrooarr,” the dragon replied.

“That’s what I thought.”

And with that, the boy dropped his lance from the neutral position of up to that of offense pointing straight ahead.

“Attack!” he shouted, kicking his charger into motion.

Galloping forward the boy noticed the dragon only lowered its head to the ground.  Almost subservient in nature, the boy’s resolve sputtered.  He halted just inched away.  The dragon did not move.  Only the breath from its nostrils blew at the dust below.

The boy, never letting his lance deviate from the point between the dragon’s eyes, stood atop his mount confounded.  The dragon moved only its eyes looking up into the boy’s face.

“You asked for the challenge.  Scorching my front yard as you did.”

The dragon shook its head slowly left to right showing no menace.

“Then who did?”

The dragon fixed the boy with a strong gaze before pointing at itself with its front paw.

“So, fight then, if you challenge me.”

“Ummmroooaarrrrah,” the dragon breathed out, bits of flame escaped from the sides of its snout.

“I don’t understand,” the boy bellowed at the perplexing beast.

Then, lifting its front paws up in a peaceful posture, the dragon rose.  Its eyes fixed on the boys.  With the left paw frozen in place, the right motioned first to its chest then slowly pointed at the boy.  This made no sense.  Combat was never like this.  You met your foe and then dispatched them as quickly as possible.  There was never discussion or negotiation.  And that was what this dragon appeared to be doing … trying to engage in a dialogue.

The boy watched as the dragon repeated this gesture again and again.  The boy, not releasing his lance, let its tip rest on the ground.  He then took his right hand and repeated the gesture, touching his chest and then pointing at the dragon.  The dragon, if joy was an understandable emotion for them, appeared to radiate just that … joy.  The dragon then started to draw something in the sand.  The boy watched. First there was one line, then two, three and finally four.

Dragon3A

The boy and the dragon were so focused on the sand drawing that neither noticed the approach of the other nine beasts.  Before the boy’s opponent could start a row of five, it was seized upon by its companions.  A fierce fracas ensued as the dragon was attacked from all angles.  The roaring was deafening.  The boy wasn’t sure if he should rush home or stay and help.  With his indecision, his imagined mount began to disappear as if by one atom at a time.  The boy felt his war horse melt away from under him as the dragons fought each other.  With the remains of his horse dissolving underneath, the boy saw the dragon he’d faced staring at him above the fray.  The eyes held compassion.  The eyes held warning.  They were intense and this time held a single message … run.

And so run the boy did.  He left his ivory tusk lance and his two handed sword and ran.  Ran with all the strength his young legs contained.  The only weapon he took was his shield.  The shield of dragon scales.  Slung over his back, the shield gave him cover should the dragons notice his exit and follow.

But, they never did.  The boy ran all the way back to his home in the tree without assault by a single dragon.  At his door, he turned and looked back.  All that could be seen was dust, wings and claws all vying for predominance in the distance.  With a furious burst, one dragon broke clear of the scrum and flew off chased closely by the others.  A fervent look back at the boy and the dragon flew away to the mountains once more.

The boy entered his house quickly closing the door behind him.  His breath came in wheezing heaves.  This was new.  This was not combat.  This was communication.  He had no idea dragons were anything other than irritating, dull, brutish beasts.

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And here the dream ends.  There are so many possible meanings that I can’t begin to articulate the reason for these three successive dreams.  Yet, communication appears the main theme.  I will now have to brew some green tea, have a biscuit and meditate on these midnight mêlées seeking audience with my conscious self.

I will get back to you.

M. Haygood


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