This is the last entry of the Colored Dream Prose Vignettes. If you are coming upon this page for the first time, and haven’t had a chance to read the others, I warmly recommend starting from the beginning, unless you are a person who enjoys reading the last page of a book first, to know where you are headed. I personally enjoy the “getting there,” the journey towards an unknown conclusion myself, but it would be very pushy of me as the author, to insist too much on how these stories should be read. Just know, the series ends on this post, and I hope you enjoy this one and all of them, if you read the others. I will write a comment listing in order, the posts building up to this one, if you are interested. This is my most serious attempt at writing short prose based on my Second Life experiences and inspirations, and it has been a labor of love, in that I was swept away by the scenery that inspires this prose series. I would like to invite you once again, to enjoy these stories in all the ways they can be enjoyed, including the music I have chosen for each. One of my readers said she likes to put it on, and read the story out-loud, that it is more of a total experience that way. In any case this link will take you to another tab, where you can listen to the music while you enjoy the photos and words. ~Music Link~ Now… please come with me into the last colored dream, the Orange Dream.
When I first wake into the dream, I am lying on a couch facing the back, staring into bright orange pillows. As I have said before, each journey is strikingly different from the one before it, not only in the very obvious color differences, but in the way, it comes over me after I drink the liquor. This potion is slowly bringing me here, and I almost believe I have just fallen asleep, and am waking in my own bed, but I am wrong, I am totally in the dream now, of the dream. I am in the colored moment again.
I get up from the couch and try to recognize my surroundings. I check to see how I am dressed, and of course am not surprised to see I am wrapped in the very same bright orange color that covers everything I see, walls, floors, furniture, all in the deepest, richest marriage of red and yellow. It has never been a favorite color of mine, but today it suits my mood, one of excitement and perhaps even high-strung nerves, that wonder where this last and final dream will take me and what it will show me. I like how the short skirt moves and shimmers, almost like butterfly wings. I stand immobile having no idea where to go and what to do when suddenly I hear his voice, playfully close to me,
“May I have the next dance?”
I do not see him as I see my surroundings, but I do feel him now as he takes my right hand, and holds it poised, his own right hand pressing against the back of my waist, and I almost swoon in joy. I am not exaggerating, I feel I will lose consciousness, or whatever state I am now in. When we wait so long for something that never comes, and then all of a sudden, when least expected, *poof* there it is, it can be like having your breath pulled out of you. If it wasn’t so wanted, it could feel frightening, this adrenaline pounding all through me. These are not the liquid’s effect on me, but his.
“Would you care to waltz with me my dear? I always sensed you had hoped I would ask . Am I right?”
“Oh yes, Yes, of course you are right. You read all my thoughts, and know me perhaps better than I know myself.”
We dance, a dance so real I know I will be marked forever by this moment. He seems so different today, more accessible as if we were friends. I hold all of it deep inside like a treasure. Then, the dance ends and I see many nets of light slowly descend around me.
A small fear of the unknown circles me too, and I stand very still, but knowing he is close, I try to calm myself, by saying what he always says to me “Trust what comes. Live it all. There is nothing to fear”
He speaks to me again, his voice soft and reassuring, “I have told you that this will be your last colored dream. Are you curious about anything? Is there anything you want to know?
I answer very quickly and honestly,
“I am not sure why this has to end, I mean my colored dreams. They are part of my life now, as you are. I feel anxious about it all just…ending.”
“Don’t be anxious. They have come to an end now, but I know you take much with you, memories, sensations, realizations, emotions, all of these are part of you, that I believe you will never forget.”
And you? Will I see you again?”
This of course is my biggest fear, and I hold my breath for his answer.
His voice is loving and he holds me close to him. I let my arms hang down quietly while he embraces me. I can’t explain it, but although I feel him around me, next to me, I still can not actually touch him, so I have learned to not even try. Feeling him there is enough, and if my arms can not hold him, his arms do hold me.
I feel the silence too prolonged, and wonder why he doesn’t answer, so I ask him again, trying to keep my voice from cracking, as I am thinking perhaps I won’t see him past today.
The colors blow around me, faster and closer and I feel a giant fan has been turned on above me. When the colors turn into nets of yellow and red bands separating from the orange, it seems almost symbolic, that we too will separate, once together, in the orange dream, but destined to go in opposite directions, as soon it will be over.
“And you? Will I see you again”
Before he begins to answer me, or maybe he never does, I am being elevated quickly on wind so powerful my entire body is being sucked upwards. I am being pulled directly into the blades of the fan, and I am sure I will be decapitated, and chopped into tiny pieces. I scream out,”Oh save me. Save me please” and he answers me by whispering in my ear,
“You are being auditioned for a ballet. Quickly, execute your most graceful pose. It’s part of the reward I told you about.”
I believe him,and it is all I have to believe in now, as my senses tell me it is hopeless and it all ends up there in the blades.
I use all my strength to try to get my awkward limbs to obey my imagery, as I picture myself like a ballerina, one foot on point. Without even understanding how or why, I know nothing bad will now happen to me, and I close my eyes, more out of resignation than terror to look at what comes next. The cloudiness clears, and I see myself as if looking from his eyes. I hold my position on one foot, balancing on the pinnacle of a glass spire, all the world, all the worlds I have seen in all my dreams, spread out in front of me. Oh such beauty is too much for my eyes, and they weep once again, moved beyond what I can sort out with my limited human mind.
He moves up behind me like a fellow dancer, a partner, he suspends my lifted leg gently in his palm, his arm around my waist, and he says, “Go limp now, I am here. I will catch you and float you.” I do as he asks of me, and I am not afraid, as I fall back slowly into his arms, my legs rising on their own, and before I realize it I am floating in the air, and the colors are holding me up. There is something, pressed against my nose, my immediate reaction is to raise my hand to touch it but he stops me gently but firmly, “No, that must remain in place.” It will fade away on it’s own.”
“What is it I ask?”
“It is giving you air, as we will be going very high and it will connect you to me. It’s not forever, just for awhile and it will fade I promise. Just breathe normally”
“I want you to close your eyes, and open them when I count to three. It is a surprise, it is the reward I promised you for doing so well, ok? One…Two…Three.”
I open my eyes and I am back in the room where I woke up, but I am upright, yet not standing. I am somehow affixed to a cot or a litter, and I feel him behind me. I know his presence so well. In front is a man holding up the other end. He has a symbol painted on his back in red, but very hard for me to distinguish what it says.
“Are you comfortable? You are Queen of the Ballerinas, so your comfort is important.”
I relax, almost smiling, his voice so close to me, and actually I am comfortable, feeling like I weigh next to nothing. This position is not a strain.
“I am fine really” I answer to reassure him. Is this part of my reward?”
He laughs at me, and says, ” Well, perhaps not the very best part, for that is coming soon.”
Who is that man holding my litter? I see him rather hazily. Is he real?”
“Yes he is, but I thought you might be more interested in who is holding up this end” and he pinches my cheek in a teasing way as the cot is being lowered to a horizontal position. I look up behind me and I see his face above me. I see him, not clearly, but I sense him more than ever before. It feels like I see him, and what I can’t make out well, I can imagine and fill in. I am drawn to his eyes, so loving and beautiful. Then I look to the right and see the woman’s face, the one who was pink in my deco pink dream and blew me off to dance and be glorious with just her thoughts. She is today orange.All is orange, and I am not sure why.
“Have I returned here for something?
“Yes.” is all he says.
There is a bit of maneuvering and I keep feeling dizzy from looking straight up at the ceiling, so I lean a little and only look back up at him, or to my right to see where he is taking me. I forget about the figure in front of me, as he doesn’t seem to speak at all, and I can’t really perceive him, not like I can the one who guides me.
I look up at him again and again. I can’t believe I am really seeing him with my eyes, and also I can’t believe how young he looks. I always sensed him as older and yet his face is that of a young man, or …..like an angel.
“I expected you to be older somehow.”
“Yes, I sensed you almost as a father.”
He smiles down at me, “Actually I am older much older than I may appear to you. Age is so relative, isn’t it?”
Is the Ballet Diva comfortable? We are going to take a small walk and I want you to enjoy it.”
This makes me laugh, his name for me, as I don’t believe I am that good of a dancer, surely not a diva, but I am smiling, “Yes I am enjoying this walk and talk more than you can know.”
I crane my neck a little and see the colored clouds that took me home from the deco pink dream, and I feel us heading into them,
“Oh no, don’t tell me this is almost over. Please don’t. This is my last dream and it’s so short.”
“Such a bad habit of yours, tsk tsk, always jumping to conclusions. Try to tell me I am not right about that. The dream is too short, I am too young,” he jokes, “What else can be wrong?”
I am back at ease, “I know, I do that. It’s just a bad habit, I am trying to correct. I am the passenger so, wherever you think a ballet diva would enjoy going, I trust your judgment.”
“Thank you for that,” he says smiling.
We walk for a long time it seems to me, and then we enter a room I remember so well. It was my first dream that I took, the first potion, red and it awakened me to touch and to feeling alive in my body. I almost feel nostalgic, and remember how I wished he would come out from the curtain I felt he was hiding behind and lay with me all night in my bed. He blows his breath across my hair,
“How frightened you were and yet how willing.” I am very pleased to have shared this time with you.
Then as if we transported in some form without walking, I hear the gentle waves lapping the sides of a ship, and the sun is very bright, and I look down upon the ship of white dreams.
He sets the cot on two railings, and with his now free hands, he cradles my face, smooths, my hair , the unruly curls that fall over my eyes and he says, “You made a beautiful Sea Snake. I have never seen a lovelier one.” We both laugh and he bends over me and kisses my forehead. “Agreed.? Not a lovelier serpent in any ocean on any world.”
I am smiling, feeling the warmth of the light on my face and his lips pressed to my forehead, remembering this journey so fondly.
“Thank you for letting me be that snake, and for bringing me back to remember it.”
We walk again, what seems to be many minutes, and we pass through patterns of color, and sounds that whistle like gentle wind in my ears. Then I see we are at the spot where I had my saddest experience, perhaps the deepest, as I felt the dying all around me and was helpless to stop it.
I shudder and feel nervous, but he rests a hand over me, places it on my heart and says to me
“Shhh, this dream is over now…just let it go. Even in it’s shocking effect, it brought out all of your compassion, and you have so much of that.” I am very proud to know you” I reach my face up towards him, and he kisses it. I am crying. I can’t help myself, not over the dead creatures, but because I am beginning to feel he really loves me.
We transport again, and I recognize the boulevard and the couch where my deco pink dream of dance began. I remember his words, “Dance and be Glorious” I truly did. This was one of the most rewarding of my dreams, like a living fantasy, I communicated, danced, and left this world behind. I left all the worlds behind. I reach back to touch his hand,
“I will never forget the moment you joined our dance, and we were all one voice. Thank you. Thank you.”
We begin to fly up, higher and higher and I see we are stopped in front of the beetles, the ones that caused me so much anguish. I look up at him, questionably, “Why are we here?”
“Well, I thought you might like to look at them in bright sunlight, as they are quite beautiful, but really I bring you here to tell you, that your reward is to be set free, not like them, that are preserved for some future time. They will stay here forever suspended, inanimate, yet to some degree conscious. I would not like that for you,” he touches my shoulder, rubbing it soothingly, “I want to see you soar.”
“You are so very beautiful. I know you think you have never touched me, but you have.”
I notice I am no longer on the cot, and I don’t feel him or see him behind me. I gasp for air, and panic begins to set in, “Help me,” I cry out in terror. I’m afraid. I can’t breathe.”
“Ahh but you can, I gave you the tube, breathe through it gently, and let your heart calm itself again.”
“Karima, trust me. Trust me more than ever today.”
“I trust you…always.”
I feel my skirt being loosened, and his hands pulling it off over my legs. The colors swirl and swaddle me in heat and the heat turns to peace, from my feet up to my head. “Oh what a wonderful sensation, my nerves in my entire body are slowly moving into a uniform tranquility as I float in the colored clouds, that one time took me all the way home.
“Are we going home now?”
“Not quite yet. One more hike left, and we must climb, and your skirt will not help you fly”
“Karima, you are doing so well. I think I will call you my good girl.”
I smile, because I have always loved it when he calls me that.
“How are you feeling?”
He asks me, as we start to move again, across what appears to be a plaza, and begin to climb some stairs. I am feeling in total surrender. The fear, and the lack of oxygen have all subsided, and now I just lay limply on the cot, not like a queen but like a satisfied woman, who has just been shown a small inkling of what the power of paradise might feel if it glowed inside of her.
“Take me wherever you want to. I know you do this for love, and only for love.”
We climb many stairs and the burnt -orange glow of the carved ceilings, remind me of a sunset and I tell him so. “If I close my eyes, I am at a beach, and the late afternoon sun, glows over my eyelids”
“You describe it well, I bet you painted many sunsets in your time.”
“Why do you think that?” I ask
“Well, because you are an artist.” and he smiles down at me
He nods and tenderly kisses me on the cheek, I feel his breath on my hair, sweet and warm.
We are outside now and the bright sunlight of early afternoon washes over my face and makes me close my eyes. We are climbing higher and higher, but I do not feel afraid.
“Am I a good artist?” I ask sincerely wanting to know.
“Oh yes, you are a wonderful one. I love your art” then he hesitates and says, “I love you”
“You love me?
I look up into his beautiful eyes. His face changes from young to old, his eyes change color too, all the colors mixed up, in all the beautiful combinations these worlds can imagine. I am feeling so overwhelmed, and yet I do not cry, I feel almost too much to shed a drop of it in a tear. I hold it all inside of me, and I swoon, like I am speeding down a roller coaster. I can hardly believe what I am hearing.
“Yes Karima. I love you. Why is that so hard to believe? I have always loved you. Always.”
“We are almost at the top and we will do one last dance, and then I want you to fly when I tell you.
Will you do that for me?”
“Yes of course, but….is this dream over with now?”
I am feeling the twinge of saying goodbye sooner than I am ready to.
“Please, just tell me… will I ever see you again?”
My eyes begin to mist slightly but not spill over.
He strokes my face and then stops at the very top. We are once more where the fan sucked me up, where he told me I was to be auditioned for a great ballet.
He leans over and he whispers to me,
“I know we will see each other again. I know it with all my heart. I trust my heart and it tells me we will”
“Then I trust your heart too… because I love you”
“May I have the next dance?”
He is no longer the young man who carried me, but he appears to me again, like my wise guide and companion for all the years I can recall. I can’t remember a life without him, and I say,
“Well yes, I would be honored to dance with you.”
Below us stretches out the worlds of all the colors. I had no idea they were joined, but it does make sense to me too that they are. Everything seems to make sense now and I glide safely in his arms. Even if this dream ends… there are others, and I too know I will see him again.
“Thank you beautiful soul for this dance.” He kisses me so deeply on my lips, and I return his kiss with all my feeling and all my love and gratitude.
“I am going to let you fly now, like we practiced so many times.”.
“You must do it on your own. I can’t come with you.
Just listen to my voice and exactly when I say *Three* fly my beautiful girl. Fly majestically”.
“One”….. I take a deep breath, he is no longer with me.
“Two”……I silently say, “Thank you.”
Voice 1. “Time of death 3pm
Voice 2. “Why did it take so long?”
Voice 3. “Yes I thought it would happen instantly when they turned off the ventilator”
Voice 1. “No, even in a patient in her state of coma, it is a process.”
Voice 4. “Do you think she suffered? I really can’t stand to think of that,” she sobs.
Voice 1. “No she did not. We administer morphine before ventilator withdrawal and in case of agitation we also administer phenobarbital.
Voice 2 “When can we see her?”
Voice 1 “We are preparing the body now and soon it can be released to you.”
Voice 4. “Oh My God. I hope we did the right thing?
Voice 1 “Well if it is any comfort to you all, on both scales we use to determine severity of coma, she scored 3 in eye opening response, verbal response, motor response. This is as deep a coma as I have ever seen here. She has been this way two years without showing signs of improvement.
Voice 2. “Yes and had she lived, awakened, she would most likely be blind. What kind of life is that for an artist. to never see another color-filled day?”
Voice 2. “It was for the best”
Voice 3. “Yes, she never recognized any of us again”
Voice 4. “Not even me,” she breaks down crying again, “her twin sister.. I mean I just thought maybe I could get through. I don’t want to see her now. I just can’t”
I feel weightless as I soar. I am beyond the clutches of gravity, beyond fear and pain. I want to fly everywhere, and see everything. The breeze catches me just right, and my clothes begin to fall from my body, the tube he gave me is no longer attached to me, nothing attaches me…..I fly and I am glorious…
April 25, 2011
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*please see my comment below