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Freaky!!!! So are we doing a flash back or something? And will we hear from the judge/narrator again? David and I are *dieing* to know. :)
Saturday, July 14. 2007Power of an Unknown Kind
The image of David's lifeless body lingered in my mind even after I opened my eyes. Heart pounding, I stared upward, listening as the wind whispered among the trees. It carried on its wings the scent of new rain. As I watched, clouds crept across the sky, slowly blotting out the stars. I must have fallen asleep again, because I woke to the sound of David unzipping his sleeping bag.
He rolled to his feet, and spread his arms, grinning and stretching. "Look at this!" I sat up slowly, amazed by what I saw. Our camp was an island of clarity in a ghostly world of silver and green. Trees swam in and out of the swirling mist, droplets clinging to their branches like jewels glittering in the half-light of morning. "How'd you sleep?" I automatically started to answer, "Fine" but stopped myself. I searched for an explanation, but ended up just saying, "I had a really weird dream. It kind of bugged me." "Oh yeah? You know, during finals last year, I dreamed that I was being attacked by a box full of pencils. Totally messed with me. I couldn't pick up a pencil for several days afterward. Just scared me to death." He just stood there, grinning. I tried to respond, but found myself torn. I felt a laugh tickling at the back of my throat, but at the same time, every time I looked at him, I remembered the pale, lifeless face from my dream, and froze, paralyzed by guilt and grief. At last, I shook my head and muttered, "Mine wasn't like that." David looked at me, his gaze suddenly penetrating and serious. "Are you OK?" Again, I shook my head, numbly. My voice was almost a whisper. "I gotta tell you something." David knelt by the remains of our fire, and began pushing the last few bits of unburnt wood into a small pile. He gathered some small twigs and bark, shredded the bark, laid it against the unburnt wood, and placed a few twigs on top of it. He stared down at his creation for a moment, and then turned to me. "I'm listening." The smiling humor was gone. His face was serious, serious, and calm.
I fumbled about in my mind, searching for a place to start, looking for a way to end. Finally, I just blurted it out, no preface, no explanation. "Last night, I killed you in my dream." The words seemed to burst out, and when they did, it felt like a flood was released. I began explaining the dream, telling him about the narrow path, the blasted landscape, the hot wind, and especially the mountain. As I spoke, he started the fire. He must have used magic, everything was too wet to use matches. I stared into the fire, speaking rapidly, and as I did, I watched my dream replay itself in the orange flames. I'm not sure when I stood up, or how I got over to the fire, but when I finished speaking, I found myself standing over the fire, staring down at it. David's lifeless face stared up out of the flames, the great gash over his eye accusing me. A soft laugh snapped me back to reality. David stood a few feet away, rubbing the back of his neck, and shaking his head. "Wow. That would just be . . . No way. There's no way. You couldn't be, could you?" He paced back and forth, shaking his head. Every few steps, he stopped, turned, and looked at me questioningly. "Do you have dreams like that often?" "What, dreams where I kill my friends?" "No, dreams that feel like destiny. Dreams that feel like they're telling you the truth, even when the truth is buried in layers of symbols and metaphors." "Is that the future? Did I dream the future?" "I don't know. You tell me." "I . . ." "Look, don't worry about that. Let's go back for a second. You never answered my question. Do you have dreams like that often?" "No. I don't think so. I don't know." My voice trailed off miserably. Something was going on, but I wasn't sure what. "When I was in jail, what made you think that they were going to kill me? Was it a dream?" "No, nothing like that. It was just a feeling." "A feeling?" "Yeah. A feeling. Like, I was certain about something. There was just no doubt in my mind, no question. But then, I started to doubt." Once again, my voice trailed off. I felt hot. The air felt sticky, and I backed away from the fire hastily. "Hmm." He continued to pace back and forth, still stopping to stare at me every few seconds. "You saw something in the fire, though, didn't you?" "I was just imagining things. Just replaying my dream in my head." "Really? Is that why you jumped up and ran to the fire? Is that why you called out my name? Is that why you actually knelt down by the fire, reached into the flames, and touched something that you saw there? Were you really just replaying your dream?" "I did that?" Trackbacks
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Radar on :
Freaky!!!! So are we doing a flash back or something? And will we hear from the judge/narrator again? David and I are *dieing* to know. :)
Johnny Elbows on :
Let me see if I can explain this. The way that I stuck the preface on half-way through the story had to make things confusing.
This is the general idea: A prisoner is brought to trial for treason. He refuses to defend himself, saying that his actions, while unlawful, were not wrong. He is sentenced to death. Before the sentence is carried out, he gives a book to the king, and says that the book contains his defense, and that it will explain why he believes that his actions were just, and justified. The text of that book is the story that you're reading. |
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