Dreaming 8/27/18

I woke in a clearing that may or may not have been The Clearing.

Every tree was choked in vines and I could hear the shrieking of what might have been only monkeys but might have been something Else entirely. The whole of my vision made it look as though the entire world only existed in shades of brown, green, and grey. I could not see the sky, no matter how I tried to look upwards through the branches, or out to the edges of the jungle. There was nothing but the trees, long and tangled undergrowth and everywhere the same vines choking the life out of it all.

I had left an earlier Dream of the Estate to get here. A pleasant atmosphere and better company for the most part. I had not left of my own volition, I had been compelled. The three men I left behind, and the pews full of people would just have to understand. I certainly felt no shame in their company, nor had I when the pews began to fill as we took our sweet time before or on the altar. Blasphemy is its own sweetness, and I take mine where I can find it some days.

It felt oddly familiar, in the same way that most Dreaming feels familiar. Like I should know where I am, or that it will come to me if I just wait for long enough. I was climbing through trees that were tangled and covered in the vines. Every so often, I found a desiccated animal corpse in the trees, wrapped and choked in vines as if they’d been used as a water source. I’m amazed now, looking back on it in the Waking, that I did not react with more disgust or recoil in horror.

People were talking around me in a language I did not understand but understood all the same. They wanted me to go to the Top; the Tree? the Mountain? I don’t remember or perhaps I never really knew; and talk to Mother.

I did not want to go. I knew even then what people would say of me if I followed where they led. If I did as I knew I was going to be forced to. If I met who I would be forced to meet. I wanted to leave. I found I could not. No method open to me worked despite my struggle.

These people, in skins and leather and weaving, their bodies covered in mud and paint, their hair knotted and plaited ornately and ALSO coated in the same mud or paint were the very opposite of me. No matter what Aspect I wear, or what Witness I am called upon to wrap around me like a cloak, but that is not what made me recoil. It was the known response I would receive should I speak of what happened. I am still being compelled to write about it. To share. I want to leave, but I am Awake now and I cannot.

The next thing I knew, I was halfway up the Tree. Following these People higher and higher; scrambling over root and rock alike. Trying to ignore what is held in branch and vine.

When we reached the top, there was a small knot of people who had made it. Others we’d lost or left behind or they’d given up. Maybe it was the difficulty of the climb, maybe it was the horror of seeing something drained of life before your eyes. I don’t and probably never will know for sure.

We came to a ledge, wrapped in roots, branches covered in lichen and dripping moss like grey-green curtains. We found a pool, set in the face of the green-grey cliff face. The rim came just above my navel and the inside was coated in what looked like yellow ochre. A seeping, poisonous, sulfuric yellow.

In it, a wizened old woman sat, crouched, like a frog. Her wrinkled skin was as brown as the earth beneath my feet, her hair was tangled with more of the vines and leaves, thin and grey and matted down her back and shoulders. When she lifted her head, I could see the vines growing beneath her skin.

In spite of how clear the water was; crystalline and cold; I couldn’t see the bottom. I don’t know whether it was algae, silt, leaves or some other reason; but I could not see the Woman below the shoulders. She looked as though she were absorbing the water, and being absorbed at the same time. Taking from and giving to the Tree and the vines that strangled and grasped at it.

Immediately upon taking this in I was uncomfortable and on edge. I knew what would be required of me without being told, and I had half a mind to refuse. To back away and hurl myself into the void beyond the trees and the cliff face. To find some Beyond to entrust my long fall and eventual death. I knew it would be useless. The trees would never end, and the cliff face was a lie or a supposition- I had not seen the sky since the Dream began.

Instead, the same compulsion began anew and I was driven forward, and the People surrounding me drew back.

When She spoke it was as rough as bark and as thunderous as the mountain’s tectonic energy that had given it birth. As silent and imperious as a deep forest pool. Inexorable. Commanding.

There was no way for me to resist as my arms were, untouched, plunged into the water to the elbows. I wanted to scream. There was only silence.

Immediately there was a pulling sensation, as though blood was being drawn from my veins. The water and the Woman remained the same, no light no red no new change in feeling or expression. I wanted to fight, to pull away, but I couldn’t move! The draw was stronger than iron chains and bound me fast. I could do nothing but struggle mentally and try again and again to scream.

When she released me, I could breathe again. I hadn’t realized I had stopped. She poured more water over my hands, and I saw that hers had the same vines and leaves growing beneath the skin. Her nails were black, and the water was numbingly cold.

She spoke or I heard or I was made to understand that now I was in the water and the water was in me. Chosen, and no way back. Caught, like a rat in a trap no matter what I thought or felt or wanted for myself. Helpless, and both terrified and enraged by it.

Someone younger and narrower of body than I was brought forth. Struggling, water was poured over their hands as well. I neither heard nor understood what was said, if anything. I wonder now, in the Waking, whether the water pulling out and rushing in was to make me acceptable, or wash something else away so I could receive the same, dubious, blessing.

I wonder if that was why I was made to go first.

I have the impression fires and darkness, keeping the prowling things at bay. I know She will eventually be consumed, though she is Older than Old. I don’t want to know. I want to leave. I cannot. I don’t.

I wake to the Dreaming again at the base of the mountain-tree. My hands do not work, and I am uncomfortable beyond measure. It burns in my veins and I want to rip the skin from my hands. It will not leave me, and I cannot leave it. I want more than anything to leave the Dream. I cannot. I don’t.

The earth felt like it was vibrating beneath me, and I couldn’t see; like I was no longer wearing my glasses. I felt crazed. Like I was searching for something. Supposed to do something. Seek something out before it was too late. Something required that I’d forgotten.

I woke from the Dreaming uncomfortable, disoriented, nauseous, and knowing i don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to deal with whatever aftermath it drags in its wake. I still feel compelled to write out the details and to post it.

I hope this is enough.

The Deep Dark

I could hear them down the hall… playing video games, talking to the dog? the cats? I don’t know. I was content enough to stand at the butcher block counters and cook instead. All my utensils and needs lined up in a very neat row against the colored tile backsplash, laid against beautiful sage-green walls. Calming. Carefree.

Waves beat against the cliffs outside and I knew without doubt what was waiting down the shore. I didn’t pay attention. Instead I directed my mind towards making better meringue in a small white stand mixer with a steel bowl, and getting sourdough and ciabatta toast ready. Light fluffy eggs, parbroiled in a brand new stainless steel oven and toast browned in the simple white toaster, before being set in a skillet with browning butter.

Down the coast, they combed the beaches and the caves. Crawled over the rocks like black insects flashing oilslick colors in the light. Everything they searched for was already lying safe with me… and I was Busy.

Their technology had given them the blueprints of every room hewed into the rock of the cliffs. The sea stacks towered over the water, their insides riddled with maze like catacombs and hiding places for the People. I knew their places, intimately. Had watched over them in silence, I could not tell how long. Witness, called up from the blackness of my own Deep Dark.

The black gravel slid like sand under my feet, leaving its mark in swirling smoke stains along my calves. I felt no burning. The cave walls were sharp and slick, no blood flowed from any touch of mine. Other voices howled in the dark, my own did not join them. Closer than their next breath, farther than they could ever hope to reach.

The yolks joined the fluffy white nest beneath the broiler, and the toast, now closer to french than plain browned bread, was slid onto plates round and white as the moon. Music came from somewhere, and its echo matched my heartbeat as I moved from the island to the counter and back again, smooth as a dancer. I could see past the pillars into the living room if I cared to… I did not. No need. I knew where they were; the second half of my soul and my god; without needing to reassure myself with my dreaming eyes.

I knew the three that led just as intimately as the new technology had betrayed their secrets to the outside world. I did nothing. The red plants that grew like spider’s legs outside the entrance to their dwellings tore at clothing and shredded skin… I knew too well the numbing effect its thorns could have. I said nothing. The earth swallowed them whole.

Things in the deepest reaches stirred. Not ours, not ours, not our People. And the figure on the beach merely whispered to the ice-salt wind “no.”

The earth moved.

I looked into the distant sea, leaned against the sun-warmed glass of the door, pulled aside the curtains. Just our cliffs, the edge of the bluffs, sloping down and away into the raging spring seas below. Just green, and yellow, and the deep grey and dirty whites of any northern coastline… I remembered the blacks and the reds. I remembered soaring on aching wings down the riverlands, over downed trees and under ever-growing canopies. Saw mouths yawning wide to catch the unwary, black and brown fur and slick shining scales alike.

I heard the thunder as yet one more world slid into the unforgiving salt deep… its children resigned to their fates or accepting of this turning of the Wheel. But the timers were going off, and there were things to be cleaned in a stainless steel sink, food to plate, and lovers to call to the table.

I paused at the shelf above the oven, a spidery plant in black, grainy soil. It nearly seemed to smile back at me as smoky stains ran along an outstretched finger.

I think we understand each other.

Instructions for a walk in the woods

skybloodfox:

withcraftandwitches:

grissovanessa:

thanatosjr:

Never turn around to check behind you. You’ll see nothing, but once you start doing it you won’t be able to stop, and an ominous feeling will follow you until you don’t lock your house’s door behind you.

If you stand very still and listen you will hear the woods calling for you. Don’t answer. Never answer.

You’ll hear things quietly following you, hidden in the trees by your sides. It’s okay, they’re just checking on you.

Don’t be scared, but be really, really wary.

If you have a bad feeling about taking a certain path, don’t. You’ll avoid whatever is waiting for you at the end of it.

You never know what may be buried under the soil you’re walking on. Remember that every time you take a step. Pray that whatever it is, it won’t wake up.

Be careful not to step on any beetle, or you’ll never get rid of them.

If you bring a knife with you, name it. Otherwise the blade will turn against you as soon as you try to use it.

Make sure you remember the way back home. As soon as you get lost, you’re just another piece of fresh meat.

I expected this to be wholesome and now I’m vv scared

A little creepy

This is what being stalked by a cougar is like when you’re in the woods.

dhaunea:

bunjywunjy:

piwnymisiek:

praazlwurm:

pazdispenser:

dimetrodone:

dietmountainmadewka:

zahnegott:

dimetrodone:

Most of our perception of what Goblin sharks looks like comes from dead specimines where they are all mangled and shrivelled, and are always positioned with their jaws protruding out.

When while alive they only ever extend their jaw for feeding, and arnt half as creepy looking

they do look like goblins

this also disregards the fact that they can still propel their jaws forward like an aquatic xenomorph from hell

So can many other fish, I’m just not judging them for their beautiful smile.

personal favourite

why is the ocean like this

what a question

that’s just what ocean is like

if it skulks on a reef, and has two sets of teeth,

that’s a Moray.

@coelasquid did a lovely comic about Gyrados xenomorphic children that escaped into the ocean. The punchline was amazing and is entirely relevant to this post.