What is important for me is that I
allow the story to unfold, because, while I am capable of changing or stopping
the dream, I find that that where it takes me is always interesting and almost
always enlightening.
This is also why I also choose to
tell the stories of these dreams in the first person, because while the
"I" in them is not me, Joie as I know myself, I am experiencing the
story as this other consciousness. It is not always easy, particularly when
writing about it after, to sort out what are the thoughts of my waking mind as
I move through the story, and what are the thoughts of the creature I am. There are times when I think back on the
story that I recognize I am projecting my own waking experience onto the happenings
in the dream, but I do my best differentiate them.
This is the dream I had on the night of October 19th, 2019.
I am a creature made of stone. I
stand outside the doorway of a sacred place that I was created to protect. I
don't have a real sense of how long I have stood there, through the nights and
days, watching the caretakers of this place come and go. I have no recollection
of how I came to be, just that from the moment I came to be here, I have known
that I am there for one purpose, to defend this place should it ever be
threatened.
It is mostly a dry place, but I have
memories of rain and the feeling of cold.
I know that the appearance of the caretakers changes but I don’t seem to
have a concept of aging. There are a few that look at me, some even nod my way, but
most pass on by. I have a sense of affection for them, and I
take comfort in their patterns because as long as they continue their coming
and going, I know they are safe.
One night, at the darkest of hours, when
the stars are hidden behind clouds that are pouring the heaviest rains I have
seen, someone comes. There is danger and
I know that now is the time I have to fulfill my purpose. I try to move, but some…thing, some force, is
holding me back. I push against it, I
feel my stone body shaking, but I am unable to move an inch. My vision is
filled with a red light that doesn’t quite blind me, but colors everything
around me.
Men rush into the doorway of the
sacred place and hear screaming, metal clashing, I know that the caretakers are
being harmed and I am unable to do what I was created for. Eventually all is quiet, and the men
leave. I am standing, still unable to
move, in silence.
In time the red light falls from my eyes
and my body lurches forward. I rush into
the doorway. I have never been in this
place before. Inside there is a large
room with a shining stone floor. There
are stairs and an altar at the top. Brightly
embroidered tapestries hang from the walls. The place is covered with the evidence of my
failure.
My waking mind was surprised a this.
This creature of stone seemed to have been created not only with a sense of
purpose, but also the knowledge of what it meant when that purpose was not
fulfilled. I wondered if the creature’s
creators intended that or if it was an unforeseen consequence of what they did
to create it.
Metal lamps that have fallen spilled
their oil across the floor. There are scorch marks where lit lamps set fire to
the tapestries as they fell. The motionless bodies of the caretakers are strewn
around the space, on the stairs, across the altar, on the floor…
I do not know what to do. I had no
other purpose than to protect this place.
So I just stop where I am. I
wait. And wait. I watch the light through
the doorway as it shines each morning on the opposite wall and moves across the
room until night fall. I do not move.
Men dressed like the caretakers come. They gather the bodies, the tapestries, and
the remains of the altar. They wash the
room until nearly all the signs of the fight are gone. As they talk, I hear them tell the story of
the fight. They gesture towards me and
talk of a man who has the power to overcome my strength. They talk of the red light and that he glows
with it when he works his magic.
“I guess there is no use for you any
more is there?” the last man says when the cleaning is done. He leaves and I hear the sounds of building. The light of the doorway becomes less and
less as they place stone after stone in it, sealing the room with me inside of
it.
I am in darkness. But the room does not seem silent. The last man’s words, “I guess there is no
use for you anymore…” seem to echo from
the walls. I do not understand what is
happening. I do not understand what to
do with this feeling of failure.
I think of how the caretakers closed
this place once it was damaged. And I
hear the words of the of last man, “I guess there is no use for you anymore…” They took all that made this place what it
was, the altar, the lamps, the tapestries, the caretakers, away and closed it
up. They unmade it.
I do not know how this place or I came to be. Was I, like this place, made? Perhaps then, like it, I must be unmade too?
I think of the man with the power of
the red light. He had the power to disrupt
my purpose. Perhaps he would have the
power to unmake me? I decide to find
him.
I turn around and push against the
stoned in doorway. I step out into the light
of day and I begin.
What happened during the time of the
creature’s searching would be a long story to tell – and I may share these
stories yet. But years pass as the creature searches. During this time the creature learns to read,
and how to communicate through writing (they cannot speak as they have no mouth
or voice). They learn about the fragileness of human life…that unlike themself,
humans can fall ill, be hurt, and that they age and die. The creature learns to
be gentle. In time they can pick a
flower as easily as they can crush a building or uproot a tree. The humans they meet give the creature different
names, none of which they keep.
They learn how they came to be, or
at least how other creatures like them come to be. During the journey they meet only one other like
them, made of wood and built with the purpose of carrying messages over a
mountain pass too difficult for humans to traverse. They have walked this path over and over
again for so long they worn a rut deeper than they are tall. The stone creature feels, at first, a sense
of delight when they meet, but the creature of wood will not be deterred from
its mission of delivering messages. And
so the stone creature learns they are somehow different from the creature of
wood and feels loneliness for the first time.
There was so much more heartbreak in
the creature’s journey, and joys too. But through it
all they still sought the man with the red light. Until one day they finally meet…
When I find the man with the red light,
I am surprised that he is still alive.
So much time has passed, and so many other humans I have met have died. When he see me he is afraid and he uses his
power on me. My vision fills with red,
but unlike the last time we met, I do not fight it or resist. He sees this, and removes the force that holds me.
He approaches me. I stay still.
He circles me and I turn my head to follow him. He
taps my stone surface, and finally asks why I am here.
I point to a table with writing tools
and paper. He looks surprised, but steps
aside.
I go to the table and I start to
write. Once I begin I don’t stop. He brings page after page and I write, on and
on. When I am done I straighten up and
turn to see he has stacked all of the pages into piles that are tied with
rope. He is seated in a chair reading
the page I had finished a few minutes before.
I hand him the last page. He reads
it. Then looks up with tears on his
cheeks.
“I cannot do this.” He stands.
“Well, I can…I know how to unmake you, but I won’t. Do you not see how wondrous you are? What would those who created you think of you
now? No one expects something like you
to have thoughts. To learn, to become…a
self.”
I write a word on paper.
“Please…”
He again refuses.
I turn to the table again and start
to write. I write about how the world
has changed. How in all of my travels I
met only one like me. I write of how there is no longer a place for a creature of
stone who is built to protect the sacred places of humans. I write of how my purpose has ended.
He tries to convince me by sharing
his library with me. He takes me on long
walks through the lands that surround his home and tells me his story, of how he
came to discover magic and how few people there were left who knew what it was
or how to use it. He tells of the
mistakes he has made, of how he sought forgiveness…but never found it.
He shares the stories of the plants,
the trees, the creatures that crawl in the ground. He tells me that this is where he seeks magic
now.
He calls me Stone, his unwilling
apprentice. It is the name I keep.
Every day I ask him to unmake me,
and every day he refuses.
So much time passes that the man
with the red light grows old. His skin
softens into wrinkles, and his hair turns white. There are days he is very sad, he tells me these
are the days when others like him have passed.
Our walks become shorter and
eventually stop. He takes to his
bed. I make him broths and teas to ease
his pain. I sit by his bed through each
night. I listen to him breathe.
One morning he wakes and tells me
the last of his kind he knew passed long
ago, and there is no one who is capable or called to take up this craft. He tells me that he has only enough life in
him to grant me my unmaking, if that is what I still wish for.
I feel sadness that his time has come.
He asks me to come closer. I approach his bed and kneel…
At this point I forced myself awake.
I sat in the darkness with tears on my cheeks.
I could not bring myself to be present for what I expected to be the
unmaking of this wonderful creature I had the gift of experiencing the world through
during this night of dreams…my heart was too sad.
And so, I do not know what happened
after Stone knelt beside his friend, but when I close my eyes to visit that
place, I feel like Stone is still there, waiting…but for what? Well, perhaps that is another dream..
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