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my username explained
Jul. 30th, 2004 01:06 amNot all of my dreams are hyper-real, but the ones that are are pretty memorable. One of my favorites is a dream in which I am a seraph, a mighty angel, flying in low over the waves toward the city of L.A.
I pull up, straining against the heavy air, and my wings beat in the dirty sky to gain altitude. And I look out over the city, this lovable den of iniquity, so quiet now that it's been evacuated. There's a large meteor coming to L.A. and everyone has left. People, wildlife, even insects seem to have rushed away from the coming impact, and the only movement is the warm breath of the wind moving steadily seaward. It's beautiful. Still. A serene moment of perfect harmony over a city whose time has come. I remember the odd jumble of geometry, the buildings clashing and vying with no prevailing theme. I remember the smell of hot salt, exhaust, and the human, organic smell of thousands of people trying to leave this place that draws them in without mercy.
The sweep of my wings is loud in my memory, all else is hushed. The sky is beautiful and clear so far above the city, the air so dry. I draw my sword, flames licking out from the edges. I hold it balanced over the city, poised on the knife edge between duty and joy. No warning of the imminent destruction until it's HERE, and I swing the sword like a baseball bat, cracking the meteor out of the atmosphere like a stellar home run. In fierce joy I now take up the duty of the destroyer. With a flaming sword I gleefully smash the pretty city into it's own pavement, The iron frames of buildings shiver and crumble at each blow, and with bolts of heavenly fire I raze L.A. until it lies level and quiescent, a sea of glass.
*
Sometimes my dreams are so amazing that I wake to my life a stranger here, no sense of belonging more to this world than to that. I resent the beauty of my dreams for making so much difference, so marked a contrast to this life. I am not satisfied here in this world, and maybe if I had the same dreams you have I would never have to know it.
I pull up, straining against the heavy air, and my wings beat in the dirty sky to gain altitude. And I look out over the city, this lovable den of iniquity, so quiet now that it's been evacuated. There's a large meteor coming to L.A. and everyone has left. People, wildlife, even insects seem to have rushed away from the coming impact, and the only movement is the warm breath of the wind moving steadily seaward. It's beautiful. Still. A serene moment of perfect harmony over a city whose time has come. I remember the odd jumble of geometry, the buildings clashing and vying with no prevailing theme. I remember the smell of hot salt, exhaust, and the human, organic smell of thousands of people trying to leave this place that draws them in without mercy.
The sweep of my wings is loud in my memory, all else is hushed. The sky is beautiful and clear so far above the city, the air so dry. I draw my sword, flames licking out from the edges. I hold it balanced over the city, poised on the knife edge between duty and joy. No warning of the imminent destruction until it's HERE, and I swing the sword like a baseball bat, cracking the meteor out of the atmosphere like a stellar home run. In fierce joy I now take up the duty of the destroyer. With a flaming sword I gleefully smash the pretty city into it's own pavement, The iron frames of buildings shiver and crumble at each blow, and with bolts of heavenly fire I raze L.A. until it lies level and quiescent, a sea of glass.
*
Sometimes my dreams are so amazing that I wake to my life a stranger here, no sense of belonging more to this world than to that. I resent the beauty of my dreams for making so much difference, so marked a contrast to this life. I am not satisfied here in this world, and maybe if I had the same dreams you have I would never have to know it.
