Chapter Three: Dreams of Childhood
My father told me that every dream is a gift from Morpheus, the mythical god of dreams. I find that his gifts come in all flavors. Sometimes the gifts were strange and beautiful dishes of delight. Other times the dreams are bland servings and just a replay of my day.
However, after my mother’s invitation to visit her bedroom and explore her body, the gifts of Morpheus changed. Too often, they were bitter choking nightmares, servings of fear, which would leave me trembling, and drenched in sweat. My mother called them night terrors.
Every nightmare begins with a dream. This is the story of that dream:
In the beginning, the vision is always a thing of beauty and joy. It is a warm summer night, and I’m walking alone in the woods behind my grandfather's house. Overhead the full moon is the king of the sky. High in the stratosphere crowning the ruler of the night, there is a rainbow of ice crystals creating a beautiful circle of color. Whispering pine trees start to sing and gradually a gentle tide of music rises in the glen where I stand.
Moonlight covers the forest floor like mist. In the shadows of oak trees, fireflies twinkle and dart about searching for lovers. It is a mating ritual as old as time.
I walk to the center of the glen and dance beneath the rainbows of the night. Turning and spinning I behold all the colors of darkness. There is a shining beauty at the center of each shade of light. Glorious red glitters with danger and desire while blue glows with serenity, peace, and sometimes sadness. Every hue shimmers with meaning.
Most of the time, I dance in my bedtime clothes. Sometimes I dance skyclad in the tradition of my pagan ancestors. However, I always dance to honor the good spirits of the woodland.
As the dance continues, I find that I’m following a path leading into unexplored areas of the woods. It becomes harder and harder to hear the music. My dance begins to fumble as I miss beats and stumble. My dance no longer honors anything.
I’ve become lost. The clouds race across the sky, so low they weave in and out between the tops of tall trees. Now and then, a dead branch snags a cloud and holds it in place. The light is changing. The trapped clouds begin to smother the glow of the moon. As the silver light starts to fail, the gray woods slide into darkness.
As blackness fills the forest, I hear the rustle of quickly moving footsteps racing toward me. Shadow people are hunting me, and I run for my life.
The faster I run the slower I seem to move. I do not know who the shadow people are and have no idea why they are chasing me. I know that if one of them captures me, I will die.
Time slows and each moment slides into the next. The music is gone, and all that remains is the constant rush of wind in the pines.
The shadows move ever closer to me, and I can hear panting as their hands reach out to take me.
Suddenly the trapped cloud is set free, and silver light transforms the forest. My pursuers fade back. Now it is their turn to run and hide. Shadows hate and fear the light, and they hide like snakes under bushes and in islands of blackness.
The moonlight starts to fade almost as quickly as it returns. Clouds again smother the face of the moon. In the swelling darkness, the shadow people rise and began their advance yet again.
The dream cycles and repeats itself endlessly. They never catch me, but I’m never safe. It continues until I wake up gasping and soaking in sweat. It takes time for my trembling to stop as the nightmare's grip fades and reality returns.