A BOOK OF SCROLLS: The Dreamer's Scribe

THE DREAMS:

I retired to my bedchamber and for seven nights found sleep was an elusive thing nor did I find rest in the daylight hours. On the evening of the eighth day a strange and terrible sleep finally came upon me. In my dream I was sleeping upon my bed and a woman dressed in white came whispering in my ear, saying, “Follow me, Dreamer.”

My vision turned to utter blackness as all but her voice was heard, “Write down that which you see and hear, but know that you yourself shall neither be seen nor heard. Keep all these words until seven more such visitations are complete. Eight books shall bear witness to each one of them alone, and the ninth book shall see them all held safe by the Keeper.”

Walking out of a darkened tunnel of woven trees a child of nine years old entered upon a woodland glade. Seeing that a brightly colored bird hung in midair before her, she said in an old woman’s voice, “Behold dreamer I see you as a hummingbird perched upon my shoulder, and only I know your speaking words so fear not - you are heard.” Suddenly, a brilliantly colored such creature fluttered before the child into the clearing field where there now stood a fair gazebo meeting house. The glittering sky was a sapphire blue, and the yellow-green grass underfoot made my heart rejoice with Spring. Wrapped in white garments she approached those steps and told the awaiting bird, “From this time of dreadful sorrow hope shall live again.”

“I do not understand,” I said to her, in my dream, as I woke from my sleeping bed.

“You will upon leaving Krilleeos, as shall he for whom the ninth book was written.”

I awoke on the morning of the ninth day and wrote down all that I had seen and heard from my dreaming state the night before. Shaken and distrubed as rest had left me exhausted in my mind.

On the evening of the eighth day a strange and terrible sleep finally came upon me.

A young girl of twelve years old sat beneath a roofed pavilion. The gazebo was made woven trees with three steps leading up to the curved seat within. From its banister a hummingbird began to sing a notice to the child of a stranger’s approach.

From out of the tunneling of arched trees a man dressed his strange apparel entered the glade, “Hello there. My name is Christopher, who are you?”

Standing from her seat the smiling child replied, “I am Miriam of Uruk.”

Looking about and only seeing the child he asked, “Are you here by yourself?”

“Yes. I was going to the Branny River to draw water for my family, but I sat down beside an orchid tree and must have -”

“- Fallen asleep? I think I must have too, I feel so strange, almost dizzy,” he informed the sky.

Going to the second step she told him, “I wandered into these woods alone, and only now saw you coming along the path of Krilleeos as well.”

“Kril-lee-os?”

She agreed with the bird who now rested on her shoulder, “Yes, where anything is possible.”

Christopher confessed, “I see. Moments ago I saw a riverstone floating in midair, then it fell to the ground when I saw you.”

She laughed, “Rocks have a way of doing that you know. They fall into place and cover things up. They watch everything in silence that we do.”

The man’s expression was contorted, “Funny you say that because the stone had a blinking eye looking up at me!”

I awoke on the morning of the ninth day and wrote down all that I had seen and heard from my dreaming state the night before.

III

On the evening of the eighth day a strange and terrible sleep finally came upon me.

The now familiar man departed from the darkened archway’s footpath into the open woodland glade with an amazed expression. For the gazebo was gone. A lingering fog lay above the entire grassy field which darted with dragonflies! Hundreds feeding, mating and skating atop the hazed layer that remained as morning faded to midday. In the center of that astonishing sight sat the hummingbird aloft. The man slowly walked toward the middle to see the creature up close for himself even as the darting dragonflies gave to him midair for pathway. When his fingertips nearly touched the bird’s smiling beak it flew past him, to the sultry voice calling from behind him, “You’ve come to see me on my birthday! Am I still beautiful to you at twenty-five?”

“Always,” he answered the woman who stood where he had been.

As she drew near to the pavilion which now stood between them, she asked, “I am Keeper of my Father’s scroll; what work occupies to your days?”

He suddenly found that he was holding a shovel in his hand, “I am a ‘seeker’ - of sorts. I look for buried treasure, if you will. I search for the remains of lost cities and their people.”

“Excellent," she excitedly exclaimed! Smiling, “Then I shall bury something for you to find, and in doing so shall you find me as well. It will be a key - of sorts, if you will, to know the old world we left behind. In finding it you will also understand my father in law’s disdain for its wicked time.”

“Interesting!” He looked down at his bare feet and saw four river stones with blinking eyes looking up at him; suddenly all went black.

I awoke on the morning of the ninth day and wrote down all that I had seen and heard from my dreaming state the night before.

On the evening of the eighth day the Dreamer fell into a strange sleep once again, only to find he was transformed into a hummingbird darting about a snowy field. The Pavilion and trees were dusted beneath white as brilliant butterflies danced about, as if the winter’s day was Spring. The thirty year old woman with red hair stood on the lowest step of the gazebo watching the man arrive in the snow, “How were you able to come visit me here?”

While answering, the snow flurry ended and the world became green again as he drew near to the woman, “I calmed my thoughts with incense and soft music. Seems I’ve fallen asleep, but this is beyond dreaming, it’s even beyond real to me.” Taking a seat alongside her he inquired, “How are you able to be in my dreams, Miriam?”

“By using the same priestly herbs as you: Belladonna, Mint and Sage to name a few. Those, and chanting the verse of Manifesting was I able to find Krilleeos of the Ancients.”

“Ancients,” he echoed questioningly?

She began sharing her beliefs, “The Ancients were those who remained behind, and witnessed the great departure of their seafaring kinfolk. When those Watchers died, their ashes became holy relics to be worshiped. Later, Priests arose in the land who devised rituals that mixed those ashes with such herbs, to manifest the spirits of the departed Lords. Thus was Krilleeos opened as a bridge between the two.”

His eyes widened, “Magic?”

“Faith,” her smile answered back, even as darkness fell.

The Dreamer awoke on the morning of the ninth day and wrote down all he had seen and heard from the brief night before.

On the evening of the eighth day a strange and terrible sleep finally came upon me.

“Yes, I see him too. It is I, Miriam,” a young woman called to the approaching man. She was wrapped in a white garment and whispered aloud to a hummingbird which fluttered from her shoulder.

“Oh my, how you’ve grown!” The woman in her forties was near his own height, tall and thin. He looked very pleased to see her as took his place on the curved seat within the white pavilion.

Seeing he now wore a beard, “Time is a bewildering thing, and one day we will all be as forgotten as dust upon the wind.”

He started to reach for her hand, “You will never be forgotten by me.”

She stood up and went down the steps, her voice suddenly sounded like an old woman, “You only say that because you enjoy the smile you see before you now.”

Following, he assured her, “I see you are more than a pretty face, and a lifetime would be too brief in getting to know you, Miriam.”

Turning about with beaming eyes, and tender voice again, “Then when you learn of them, burn the herbs of the Priests to that end, mixed with hope in seeing me in your arms more real than we are here.”

Puzzling, “When?”

She sighed, “Seven years to the very day after you have changed the inked words into an understanding, for others to learn of this age.”

His confused eyes changed the topic, “The sky is so - unnaturally beautiful here and the -”

“ - grass so lively and green,” she finished his thought with a grin. Then, listening to the chirping bird again, added, “Yes, I will ask. Where are you from, stranger?”

He wondered about the dream’s talking bird, but did not ask, “A time and place far removed from here it would seem.” Looking about, at the forest he asked the red-haired woman, “Where are these woods Miriam?”

She answered as they both walked toward the tree line, then offered him her outstretched hand, “The Dwarves of Mount Jebul call them the Shady Groves of Bliss.” Just as he accepted hers they both found themselves walking along the shoreline of a beach on a summer day.

“Dwarves,” he laughed, then marveled at where they found themselves, forgetting all about the forest, “Magnificent! I could stay in such a place with you for a lifetime.”

Her face turned solemn, “Indeed, one day everything will be washed away beneath the crashing waves of an angry sea; and then we shall what follows.” In releasing his hand they both flew away into the sky in different directions. An enveloping darkness overtook the dreamer’s view of them reaching out for one another.

All the while a piercing scream and woke me from my slumber. I awoke on the morning of the ninth day and wrote down all that I had seen and heard from my dreaming state the night before.

As a Dreamer of strange and terrible things, plagued with restless nights, I again beheld visions on the evening of the eighth day.

In the sixth dream I was commanded to record by that woman in white, I saw myself as a hummingbird darting about the man walking with her, hand in hand beside a pool. He asked, “Tell me more about yourself as I love hearing your voice, and seeing your green eyes light up.”

Rounding the pool she fed the fish therein, soberly sharing while looking down, “Indeed was I as true a daughter unto my mother’s lore as those dark sons who worshiped their father’s skin. For we in our skyclad way praised the Eternal Mother’s four eyes: of the north and south, even the west of the setting sun and the east where the moon shines pale. With herbal rites and songs we danced to her rejoicing tunes. All the while our fathers and brothers braved about in the hunts of manhood’s pride, stalking Yantuks (birdmen) and Zealtons (beasts), like the Dwarves searching for gems in the dark of night!

“Then one day a prophet forewarned of an angry God’s doom to befall on all our wicked ways. Yet, I cared only for his son Japheth, more than such scornful condemnations as he tenderly took me as his wife; dismissing my father’s inked words, and mother’s Goddess. In turn I gifted him with two sons and a daughter in that new world that came. Only sadly to behold my children’s sorrow fourteen years later at their father being laid to rest in the cave of Uthcunan, (Sorrow beyond healing).”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Miriam.”

“Seeing you, makes me smile all the more. I buried that lore for you to find beside the bitter Sea, and I know your mind is well up to the task in finding where it is, even in your time the smallest of caves would not be hidden.”

When they stood and embraced my vision faded, leaving me awake on the morning of the ninth day, again inscribing all that I had seen and heard from the night before.

VII

After eight restless night I awoke from my dream and on the ninth day wrote what I behold in that realm beyond death and sleep.

I saw a beautiful woman dressed in a white wrap around garment with red hair and bare feet crossing a dry and cracked land for a crumbling pavilion, yet she radiated with a smile upon her face at seeing a man therein waiting to meet her. In that moment they found themselves beside a thin stream in a well watered grove. Embracing as long lost friends. She began to cry, “I desire so much to be with you. All those I ever knew are gone.” Suddenly, they were both standing on a tremendous bolder with waves breaking against their stance.

The man folded his arms, “They deserved what they got and had been warned.”

She slipped from the bolder into the sea gasping for salvation as he watched her haloed hair sink beneath the waves.

VIII

On the evening of the eighth day a frightening new vision came during my sleeping hours. For my dreaming view was filled with looking up from beneath a frozen lake. I then beheld the stranger, he was stiffly outstretched and floating through the icy waters to the surface above. All the while, he was being transformed in age, from a young man to a senior fellow even as he went. Lying atop its glassy plane, of what now appeared to be a pound which replaced the pavilion; he sat up an old man and stood to his feet. He was completely dry, and began looking about. The woods around him were nothing but smoldering, chard remains as was the scorched earth. Yet, as Christopher stepped off the frozen pound it became water once more, and with every step thereafter the grass returned to its natural yellow-green as before. Even the woods behind him were painted with life as was his last visit to Krilleeos. With each step he took the blackened sky took on its brilliant sapphire color he so admired and the land its foliage; like Spring after winter’s death.

Seeing Miriam, standing near the glade’s footpath entrance, he noticed she had grown more ancient than him. With gray, knee-length hair she wore filthy tattered clothes, yet her voice was as sweet as the nine year old he had first met, “Am I still beautiful to you?”

As he neared Miriam, in a beautiful realm, she reached out to take his offering hand in hers. When their fingertips met she crumbled away like ash and burnt leaves in the wind. Weeping was heard as everything faded to black before my dreaming eyes.

I awoke on the morning of the ninth day and wrote down all that I saw and heard from the night before.

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