Was just sitting here, nosing through the net when I suddenly got the line One day I had a dream in my head. I picked up a pen and started to write in my little fat notebook I keep on the desk (to jot the odd thing down). Six little pages later, I had written a short story. I typed it up and read it to my Love and I like it. Simple, and misty just like a dream of it's inspiration, I'm going to copy it here. I don't know why the sudden flourish of words lately, but I'm always happy when my long lost Muse decides to come by and fill a few days a year with words for me.
The Crossroads
One day I had a dream.
I found myself walking down a dusty path in a forest of giants. Sunlight filtered down, dancing between the canopy of branches. As I walked, I became aware of tiny winged pixies disappearing and reappearing on the edges of my vision, flittering between the shafts of sunlight.
I kept walking, trying to hide my growing sense of wonder and displacement, remembering old echoes faerie myths and rules I heard and knew as a child.
I don’t know for how long I walk – everything remains the same in this place – until something subtly starts to change. I hear a sound like a choir of voices somewhere between laughing and singing. It comes from ahead and I pick up the pace to meet this new discovery.
A small stream appears before me, in a clearing of the woods. The water splashes happily, bubbling over the moss-covered rocks. A delicate bridge of seeming white lace, or spider’s web arches so daintily across that I hold my breath in fear of breaking it. But as I look, I see the signs of age it wears; the little worn parts on rail and board where many a person has stopped, and stood, looking out at the crystal water. Gently, I step to it, then bravely on it, my footing firm and sure despite the weathered look of polished bone. I stand on it’s apex, resting my hands in the self-same worn place of the rail, unaware as the beauty of this dreamscape enraptures me and stirs music in my soul.
I feel the wind then, light and soft, it caresses my cheek and playfully tosses my hair. I feel the air and the crispness of it enter my nose and fill my lungs. I stop thinking and simply start being. My breath, my heart, the wind, the constant flow of the river below me. I in this moment, I am One with it all. And in this moment I realize the basic beauty and connection of life.
I open my eyes (when did they close?) and my sight finds a sign post just past the bridge. It reads plainly:
And I realize I no longer dream but neither am I truly awake. I stand on the bridge between memory and dream and I suddenly understand.
This life is a flower, opening in the sunlight of hope; growing in the arms of belief and giving to the world a flash of Beauty. We are because we are meant to be. We live because life is a dream. We love because heart is the core of the soul.
As I stand on the bridge it comes to me as clear as the aqua sky above. I realize I have come home and here I shall wait for you to have your own dream. We will meet at the crossroads and together we will bloom.
(copyright 2003 M. Turner, All Rights Reserved)
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Days like this I remember my dream of writing novels; telling stories for a living and letting free those little worlds that live within. Maybe on a day like today, that dream is closer then I realize and maybe I should spend some time with pen in hand and see what comes of it. Happy day to all.
~ flowers bloom near Memory and Dream
at 5/29/2003 09:33:37 PM ~
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