sabato, aprile 30, 2005

The Dream

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The Dream
By Eddie G.

That’s the thing about dreams. They are the gateway to the subconscious; a portal to the unresolved issues we face. And that disturbs me, seeing as to how I dream of green goats, bouncing midgets and giant radioactive hamsters half the bloody time. After studying the Media for some time now, I’ve begun to wonder whether it is the signifier or the signified that should be considered more perturbing.

But last night’s dream was awkwardly different. There were no goats, no midgets, and certainly no glow-in-the-dark hamsters. Yet, it was disturbing in its own way.

Taverns literally come alive after a certain hour. And that was how the Blue Dragoon was before the Bard had walked in. His reputation had gone on ahead before him, and a hushed silence had filled the building as he took deliberate steps towards an unoccupied table in the corner, sat down, propped his feet up against the table and began to tune his lute. He could hear hushed whispers coming from behind him, and smiled secretly at the attention.

The bartender brought a tankard of finely brewed mead to the table where the Bard was sitting at. Wordlessly, he placed the tankard on the table, collected a piece of silver for his efforts and returned to the bar. The Bard had finished tuning his instrument.

Striking a bold opening on his silver lute, the Bard broke into song.

I knoweth of a lady fair,
With beautiful eyes and soft flowing hair.
And she would chase the shadows away,
She's my hope for yet another day.

The tavern broke into unanimous applause, but the Bard had yet to finish his rendition, and he punished the crowd for their ignorance by making them feel, well, ignorant.

And when she sang her melody sweet.
Made my life so full and complete.
And the wind on her hair it would play,
My hope for yet another day.

While he sang, a young Sorceress had entered the tavern, evidently looking for someone. She didn’t take long to find him, and made her way to the table where the singing Bard was, and sat down. Their gazes locked.

So sing to me of my lady fair,
With beautiful eyes and soft flowing hair.
And let my soul, with true love doth say.
I love my hope for yet another day.

The Bard finished his song with a flourish, all this while not taking his eyes of the young woman. Feeling a pressing need to compensate for the embarrassing false start, the crowded cheered.

“You are late, my love,” said he, after the applauding had died down and the tavern had went back, as if nothing had happened, to its normal bustle.

“I know,” the Sorceress tossed her hair playfully to one side. It drove his hormones wild and she knew it. Her perfume made him dizzy.

“Yet, better late than never.” He reached forward across the table to hold her hand, but the moment they made contact a sharp jolt of electricity coursed painfully through his entire being. Like the forked tongue of a snake, he withdrew his hand.

“What have you done, woman!” cried he.

The Sorceress smiled, her voice now belonged to someone whom I know. “I have put a spell, a curse if you like, on you. You will now learn how to let go.”

“No! NEVER!” the Bard cried. “You can’t do this to me.”

“But I already have,” it was her voice again; I turned in my sleep, frustrated.

The Bard reached forward to grab the woman’s hand again, and was met with the same painful consequence. Reeling backwards, the Bard nearly toppled over in his chair.

“Why have you done this?”

“It’s for the best,” said she, crying and smiling at the same time. “You will learn. You will learn.”

“Will I now?” the Bard bit his lip resolutely and made a grab at her again. Pain flared through his consciousness once more. Each second became more and more unbearable but he held on to her tighter still, his eyes tearing profusely. Finally he released his grip.

“What do you want from me now?” he panted, there was malice in his eyes. Malice oh so strong, oh so passionate.

“The question really is ‘What do you want from me now’,” the Sorceress replied, her sad eyes glued to his.

“What happens if I were to carry on?” he asked.

“You will die. Your life won’t cease, but you will die nonetheless.”

“Then it shall be!” he declared. Leaning across the table, he grabbed her by the hand. Ignoring the pain, he pulled her close, and kissed her, long and hard. A searing flame shot through his head, threatening to melt the very last of his sanity, but he kept his lips firmly locked to hers. The threshold of his complete existence threatened to give way, returning to the cosmos from whence he came. Dust thou art, and dust thou shalt return! He played the last verse of the song in his head once more.

So sing to me of my lady fair,
With beautiful eyes and soft flowing hair.
And let my soul, with true love doth say.
I love my hope for yet another day.

Amidst the melody, the Bard noticed something foreign ringing within his close proximity. In fact, it sounded just like the ringing of a… Nokia 3310?

I turned to face the source of the high-pitched monophonic blare. Leaning forward, I wearily answered the call.


“Hello, can you hear me clearly?” It was my Dad, testing out the limitations of his new internet phone. At this hour?

“Yea, pretty much,” I mumbled hastily, eager to get back to resolve the Bard’s predicament once and for all. I wanted to feel her lips on mine once more.

“Am I too loud then?”

“Nope. You’re just fine,” Come on, sweet Jesus of Nazareth!!!

“Okay. That’s good. So how have you been? How’s school work then?”

NOT NOW, DAMMIT. I’ll write you a 20,000-word essay on how life in Monash has been fucking me up so long as you let me return to my dream. Puh-leeeeez!!!

“Okay, I guess. So far I’ve been coping with the subjects just fine. Nothing too stressful.”

“Do you have money for next month then?”

Oh bugger! Now it’s the whole love or money thing?

“I have enough to last me until the end of this month. Just enough.”

“Okay. I’ll send you the money soon,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Yea. Goodnight, Dad.” I hung up. I’ll feel guilty about being so curt with Dad in the morning. Now back to that dream!

The green goat bounced merrily across the purple meadows, a fat midget sitting happily on his back.


Ye who seek for audience, let ye speak now!

And so it came to past that at 01 maggio, 2005 10:19, in the presence of The Eddie G., Blogger leanne had spoken the following...

to love someone is to be able to let go of that someone you love. we all learn..

i really enjoyed this piece because it really hit home. you, me, we.. we all have to accept it and move on one day or another. might as well try to make it sonner rather than later.

.. trying to figure out what we want isn't all that easy, though is it?

And so it came to past that at 04 maggio, 2005 02:58, in the presence of The Eddie G., Blogger suspiciousbastard had spoken the following...

Wah. Good dream. Never had such a dream before. But I wish I did.

And so it came to past that at 06 maggio, 2005 23:06, in the presence of The Eddie G., Blogger Unpredictable Mortal had spoken the following...

i agree with leanne. I love Billy once, but i learnt to let go. Letting go may be tough, but it is even tougher and heartbreaking when you know that you will never get the one you love.

Learn to let go and remember, God has great plans for you!


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