I invite you to listen to my reading of this chapter, over a beautiful mood weaving music track. It should hopefully add another dimension to the story for you.
Just click on the link below “Diary Entry #4″ to enjoy the mp3 recording while you read along or just look at the pictures, as if I were in your room, reading it to you out-loud
I wake up in a nightmare dressed in an evening gown lying on top of my bed, at least I think I have just awakened. It has been almost two months now, since I entered the world of my Intimate and held him in my thoughts and heart. I am confused as a haze surrounds me, and when I focus, I see mixed into the haze, an image from the other world. The applauding hands that stay silent suspend over me and I believe I have not woken up at all, but am caught between the worlds, with no way back to either one easily. As I have learned to do, I don’t fight it, although I feel a current of fear surge through me like a fast moving surf. I see what seems to be a few little balls of light, hovering in a small group, spheres from the other side, but when I concentrate on them, and try to take note of details like my position, what surrounds me, they disappear, and I know it is time to close my eyes, as I am feeling drawn now to the other side. I don’t even remember going to bed tonight, and it’s almost as if I were dreaming without the benefit of going to sleep. Could this be possible? I close my eyes and count at least 30 heart-beats before I open them again.
I am at the barrier, that strange pale green wall I have come to think of as I would think of a beautifully decorated door, one that always leads me into a house of mystery, love, mystical excesses and uncertainty. I can not pass through it, and I see no sign of my Intimate, yet I think to myself, why else would I be here if he did not call me? It is obvious now to me, that the only way I can pass over, is if I am invited in. I wrap myself in the wall, and pray in my way, trying to contact him through my mind with my most fervent thoughts of wanting to see him. I close my eyes one more time, and I imagine holding the sphere that contains his amazing and beautiful life form. I allow my longing to show through my images, the longing to be reunited with him, just one more time. My whole body begins to tremble, with just the memory of what it feels like to be joined to him, in a ritual that cannot even be described, only felt and felt again and again. My obsession in these last two months, to see my Intimate and to be denied that request, has caused me suffering, and tension that has crossed over into my daily life affecting ultimately both friends and family, especially my sister Ismara.
“Please let me in,” I say it with my voice, although when I am with my Intimate, I never use it to speak, only to gasp, and moan, and be overwhelmed. Then these sounds come out of me not as communication, but more as involuntary signals, that I am being taken so deep and so far away from what I call reality, that my mind, reverts to something more basic, than the intelligent woman I always believed I was. I am like a dumbstruck animal, who can’t help or stop the strange sounds that flow out of her. As I sit back at the wall, and try several times the method of closing my eyes and releasing all expectations, even releasing the hope that I might find myself on the other side, a glowing sphere drifts slowly towards me coming from the farthest point I can make out. It floats in silence, no humming, none of those odd singing sounds that sometimes accompany them and it pushes through the fibrous framework until it rests directly in front of me.
This is not my Intimate… oh I know it before it even reaches me. Why has he not come? I ask it directly in my thoughts, I do not wait for it to enter in mine,
“Where is my Intimate? Why have you come for me instead of him?”
The sphere answers me, in strange tones, so unfamiliar, very thin and strident,
“He will not come. The one of us you call yours, that you call my Intimate, does not belong to you. You will cease to call him this name in my presence, or in the presence of the others. This is unacceptable.”
“Why? Why will he not come? Please, I beg of you, allow me to see him and to talk to him, even if it be only a few minutes.”
“No. Do not ask again.”
“Then let me go. This world holds nothing for me if I am denied seeing him.”
“That is correct,” its dissonant tone so harsh,” Our world holds nothing for you, and you are not welcome into it. But it is not so easy as you think , to just go. No, you will come with me.”
I don’t even have time to protest or blink my eyes, when all of a sudden I find myself landing on moving floors surrounded by tipping walls, it is so dizzying, I almost fall. This room, this place on their side has never been viewed by me before, not in my other journeys here. Even though everything in their world is constructed in ways I am not used to seeing, somehow all seems in order, and balance, maybe not the order I am accustomed to, but not molded in moving chaos, as I now feel I am seeing and standing upon. Something seems so wrong. I can not get any hint my Intimate is even present here, no feeling of him at all, as I stand dazed and reflecting what all this, the bringing of me here by force is all about. I’m scared. I am so scared, and worse yet, I am totally alone.
Then the sounds begin to shoot into my head, and I choose the word carefully, it is as if I am being shot in sound vibrations, not music, and not voice, but pitches and tones that clash as if they were fighting among themselves. It is so painful and disorienting, and even if I put my hands over my ears, there is no stopping it, as it is being bombarded at me from the inside, and not coming at me from out there. The doors and the windows are in constant motion, they seem as if they are disassembling themselves before my very eyes. The moldings lift off the floors, separate into sharp pieces and fly at me passing through me, releasing currents of pain on impact, that although last but a second, are very sharp and unpleasant. My mouth begins to protest, by wincing and gritting my teeth, and the fear of the unknown rises up into my throat and begins to choke. Whatever is going on, I say to myself, I will not give them the pleasure of showing them how terrified I now am.
Then I am violently thrown to the ground by an unnatural disaster, as if a tornado and an earthquake joined forces and shrieked a howling moaning duet over the entire room. Then small balls, small orbs begin to buzz around my fallen frame, and each time I make an attempt to stand up, to try and find some balance, on this moving floor, that is like being on a ship on rough turbulent seas, I feel them send me back down to my knees again, and there is no way I can right myself. The adrenaline breaks the dam, and floods my entire system, heart pounding, panting breaths, sweating profusely, and the most icy fingers of fear grab hold of my courage and dig in, making it melt away, until all that is left inside of me is pure unfiltered terror.
More and more begin to circle me, and they overpower me, throwing me onto my back, paralyzing me, my arms and hands and legs useless to move or defend myself, to kick or fight them off. I cry out in a desperate terrified scream
“My Intimate help me. Help me Help me.”
“Shut up. You were warned.” The chorus of orbs, devious dark feeling orbs, answer as if they were spitting the words over me, “There is no ‘my Intimate’. Nothing here belongs to you, and you do not belong here or in the thought of anyone who lives in our world. You are an intruder and you will be exorcised from us.”
“I will be what? I scream at them in my thoughts, I will be exorcised??” You all of you are the devils that need to leave me alone. I will you out of my sight. I will you all to be gone.”
There is a long silence and then in unison I feel them close to me pressing into me even into my most intimate places. One pushes into my chest, right over my heart and I feel the intention of this choice is to perhaps stop it from beating. They all begin to vibrate, humming in tones that ascend and grow louder and louder and the sound I hear them all make at once is a mocking, coarse, sneering sound of unearthly laughter.
I am raised up to my knees, and they continue to overpower me in disharmonious chords of laughter and chittering like the sounds electronic monkeys might make if they are attacking. The walls and floors continue to change colors, nothing is in harmony, the sounds, the sights that surround me and now the accusations that I am some kind of evil spirit that must be exorcised from them. “Oh God!.” I call out, “Save me! Please save me!” I keep trying to wake myself up, but I feel I am down so deep, there is no doing that, and a chill makes all my skin raise up as I begin to imagine what they mean by exorcising. I try to stand again, and this time it seems I am allowed to. They seem to want me to stand.
My will is being broken and I feel them like sharks in a deep sea, coming up from the bottom to tear me apart. God, where is he? Why does he allow this to happen to me? Then as I stand, my arms are pulled tightly behind my back, and I am frozen in fear and a dread, a sense of sheer agitation takes over me and I begin to sob and sob. I am at the mercy of these hostile beings, not a one feels any sympathy towards me. They act as one big bully, and synchronized mob and I feel they represent so much more than themselves, I know now the persecution is coming from the very highest level, and I have been judged and sentenced to be purged and cleansed from contaminating them or him or their world anymore.
“You will be punished as he has already been.”
I hear their words as a final sentence being handed out, and now I am like a cuffed prisoner who is waiting for the decision to be declared but she is made to walk to her own execution. Even in my panic and confusion, I am not oblivious to what they just told me, “…as he has already been.” Oh my poor….”, and I don’t even think it as I know they will hear me.” Oh this is why he doesn’t come. Maybe he has been executed.” The thought stings my eyes and tears roll freely down my face.
“Oh he doesn’t come, because he doesn’t care, not because he is unable to you silly life-form, ugly thing with appendages that grab and trample everything you find.” Their thoughts are powerful and with no mercy, as they throw these words into my face.
You will be exorcised. You will no longer remember us, or him, or anything. We will mean nothing to you, as you will leave not one memory to us, and we will see you gone in our world and also soon in yours too.”
“Gone. Be Gone”
“Noooo please….” I cry out for mercy begging them to just let me go, “I promise I will never return. I will go and I will never attempt to come back.”
“LIAR!!” They hurl the bitter word at me, “It is not so easy for you who have dared to cross over to us and who have seen what is forbidden. He has erred even more than you and his punishment has been swift and just. You have been erased from any memory he ever held of you. Now we will do the same to you, as your future will be revealed.” They push me hovering above and below my bound body to a dark room and when we are all inside, they make me ascend higher and higher until my head is pressed up hard against the ceiling. I cry out,
They don’t stop, but push me up even harder until, I feel the ceiling give way slightly, and my head is thrust through to the other side, which is like a floor right above this one. I am now just another orb, a round structure with hair and eyes and mouth and ears, and nose, but now I see what they have done. They have reduced me to being a sphere, limbless, with no appendages, as they say to “grab and trample everything in my path”
I am in shock, and maybe they have already started to do something to me, as I feel totally immobile. My eyes can not blink and my body below the floor feels to me as if it is no longer attached, like I am decapitated here, conscious, but without benefit of the rest of me. I am numb, totally numb, and all I can do is stare out in front of me, with unblinking eyes. Then two orbs appear. Their design is so different than the others, they roll, they do not glide, and they roll within several inches of my face and then speak.
“Helmet her,” they order. “Prepare her for the sentence.” Their voices are like a booming bass duet of cold commands.
“Mute that ugly voice exit” “Helmet her now.” I feel an orb very cold and gelatinous being placed over my face, for a minute I think I will suffocate as it presses over my nose, but I still take in air, although I can not know if it goes down into my lungs or even if I still possess lungs. I feel nothing at all from below the floor.
My head is just another orb in the floor, and the two, what I feel to be executioners, now glow and grow in size, becoming pale yellow guards one on each side of my head.
“You will be punished, purged of all memory and banished from our land.What happens to you after this, is no importance to us, but you will also suffer the consequences, for breaking the most basic rules of Creation. Solid beings and beings of airy fire, must never join together. Our worlds were meant for kinds, and you are the wrong kind.” What that one did to bring and keep you and re-bring you over and over is wrong. If you would have touched no one here, entered no one, we would look upon your infringement with more compassion, even allow you in as a sensitive observer, which is why you were let in, in the first place. However you entered into one of us, and saw what you are not allowed to see. There is no other way to right this wrong.”
I stare, eyes pinned open, watching the haze grow brighter and brighter.There are no tears, no cries, no protests, now not even any thoughts. I try to hold the sensation of him in my mind, not scenes, not memories, the feeling of love that he allowed me to feel. Will I die now for this sin? I surrender and think only these words, “So be it”
All begins to grow fainter and lighter and I feel I am dying or being put under an anesthetic, and soon will lose the little bit of consciousness that I cling to. I know now they have already done the same thing to him, and this thought makes it all easier somehow, because now I feel I don’t care. There is only one regret I have and that is that I never had a chance to say goodbye properly to Ismara. I never told her of this, because I was so afraid that she might be sucked in too. I know they are monitoring each thought and I now let them see my concern about my sweet twin sister, who has shared my love with me, and who no one in my world, ever came closer, or knew me better and more honestly than her. They answer me. They answer me with their thoughts,
“We do not injure those who respect the barrier.” If she stays on her side, she has nothing to fear.”
“Be purged and be gone.” They all repeat this over and over until I slip away.
I find I am not dead, but waking up in the drivers seat of my car, the music plays on my radio, a tune I am familiar with, one I play over and over. All is still so hazy, and I am not sure how long I have been dreaming. This dream seems very unclear, as most dreams do, but I decide to see where it is taking me. I am not afraid.
Small little colorful balls are hovering and I think, “these balls remind me of something, something else, something more than a game.” They seem to be harmless, but for some reason float in my car, and my car is not on any highway I remember, but rather on planes of shifting scenery, and so many sounds of life as I know it, from dogs barking to rain falling, even claps of thunder overhead. I see myself as if I have a camera that revolves and zooms in and out, but I am not really watching the road, and for a minute I try to concentrate and do that.
I look down and I am holding a large soft green ball in my outstretched hands. I don’t even have them on the wheel but seem to hold in my grasp almost desperately this sphere that looks a bit like a sealed fish bowl with no way to put in a fish. Then all of a sudden I am overcome with the deepest feelings of sadness, and of trying desperately to remember something I have forgotten. I get so close… I almost grasp it, but then it is robbed from me, snatched away just when I think I have it. I feel so utterly alone, and the tears flow out of my eyes in a stinging river of desolation and despair. I drive, sobbing, the rain hitting the windshield blocking my view, the hum of the engine, the wipers beating their rhythm, I drive on blindly, knowing that I can not stop this dream.
“I’m so sorry. I am so sorry.” I don’t even know why, but I suddenly feel it…so sorry.
The tears run down my face, the downpour washes away the visibility on my windshield, and with all of this, there is suddenly looming up ahead, quickly , silently,
a truck in my lane…in the rain heading right into me.
“Oh God please no!”
I try to grab the wheel, but the sphere I hold seems some how attached to me, and I can’t let it go. I am heading into the headlights of the oncoming truck, and I see there is no way to escape it.
At almost the last minute, I try to duck down, maybe a last -second desperate attempt to not go through the windshield, but it seems I am glued into this upright position. My arms and legs are not responding to my terrified pleading to get down..”Get down, get down, get down” I hear my voice, but also too I hear another over it. Oh whose voice can that be? It is like an angel inside of me and it begs me to “get down.” I am powerless to move, powerless to stop this accident and I face it head on.
This is my death, so be it… and at the last moment I am finally able to shut my eyes.
I am thrown out of the car, and all I hear is the sound of wrenching metal, broken glass, and my own screaming, as the car falls on top of me. The class bowl in my hands breaks into a million pieces, and the pieces pierce me and I feel a heat enter me and hide deep down inside of me.
Is this my dream within a dream and I am dying?
I am hanging in mid-air and the accident is now a fading memory. I know I am still dreaming as this is no place in reality I have ever seen before. I feel no pain, and I feel no fear, just being carried from one dream to the next, semi-lucid, semi -detached, but now with a new sense that I am not alone, even though I seem to be completely on my own
I have been marked by a red hand, that looks as it it were dipped in paint and pressed upon me as some sort of sign, or message. I struggle with the control of my arms, and legs, and they feel like they don’t even belong to my body. Sometimes they move in spite of me, and sometimes simply do not obey me.
I am in the strangest landscape, with that odd feeling, I have seen this before in another dream, but I am tied somehow and not free to move around, or just get up and leave. I wait patiently numb, enjoying the peace and silence of this scene, so different from the one I just dreamed before..the accident on a rainy night- time highway
“I want to end it now, let me end it.” I say it aloud, my head hanging upside down.
“I want to wake. I will wake up now. Please let me wake up now.”
A wall of hands blocks my way, as I stand. I can not move in this direction, so I slowly sit down and try to understand what I am supposed to do, to get out of this dream.
I close my eyes and I count many heart-beats. I feel so exhausted, and the dream of the accident, with the truck on the rainy highway, seems like something I dreamed before a long time ago, but there is the most nagging thought, that I am forgetting something very important, perhaps leaving it behind me, something I must try to remember.
I am back in my bed, still covered in the dream, and I am looking at myself from the ceiling, seeing that this is how my dream began, the first part very hard to remember, and when I think about writing it down, I know I should wait until morning. I must remember what I have forgotten. This was a nightmare, a very confusing nightmare, maybe because I had stayed out too late and fallen asleep on top of the bed in my clothes after they brought me home from the party. I must have gotten that hand stain there. I don’t remember seeing it until now when I was waking up. “Wow what a wild party it turned out to be after all” I say confused and smiling weakly.
I know that I am keeping a dream diary, or at least I was a few months back. This dream sure seems like it might be a good one to write down. I make a promise to myself to do that in the morning. I will read all my dreams over and try to make some sort of sense out of what I just lived through in this night of dreams that began by waking into other dreams and then into others…how many layers are there in reality? As I lie on my bed, the dream slowly fading above me, I have this strange memory or vision that there are infinite beds, with infinite girls like myself, arms stretched out wide, that we are only changing textures. We are only changing textures… on puzzle pieces that click into place, forming the fabric of the entire picture. As many as can be imagined above and as many as can be imagined below and somehow these all have to do with the deepest way of loving. I am feeling the most profound love well up from inside of me, and I hold it in my heart where I am sure if I let myself continue to feel it, my heart just might swell until it bursts.
to be continued…
June 5, 2011
Renacer Linc Island SL
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License
*Please see my comment on the whole series “The Colored Dreams”
Here is a list in order of all the posts,each post being a chapter, if you are so inclined to know the whole story behind” The Colored Dreams”
All the photographs (almost all) were taken on DB Bailey’s Sim Locus. I emphasize again that it was his Sim that motivated the creation and telling of this story: Locus http://slurl.com/secondlife/Locus/82/113/31
Aha! So the plot takes a dangerous turn…..or so it may appear to we mortals…as dreams and reality are intermixed and fears overwhelm………
As this exciting and deeply sensuous tale moves us to feel these experiences…..one is left needing resolution to this intense “colorful” journey….To those of us who have followed it from the beginning, one that begins as these latest written diary entries ended, and we share the journeys that the energetic elixirs she is drawn to drink take her on. And she died (?), or so it may appear. We did see her flying in blissful freedom from fear. We are then, as well as now, needing to know what happened to this beautiful Karima…and her lover, her Intimate….and this other world, and the love they shared….or share…????
you have been a loyal follower from the beginning, and all your insight and profound comments are so appreciated by everyone, myself included of course 🙂 who has been following this small saga of other-wordly love. What can I tell you at this point? Stay tuned and see..I promise you and the other readers, that all will be resolved in the end..
Thank you dear friend for leaving me this latest in a long line of welcome and astute comments.
You promised me excitement and danger……and here they are ! What a turn in this story ! Good and bad do not only exist in “our” world, the polarity of both seems to be everywhere and this fact makes me shiver. You can`t trust nobody nowhere…..how painful this thought is. You will be given and you will lose it, how hard to accept !
Like a child, I `m longing for a good ending 🙂 The thought of Karima, never meeting her Intimate again, is to hard to bear. But somehow I have confidence, that there will be a solution . Great piece, as always *** Love to read you, love to listen to your voice…
P.S. I recognized the dress :))
Smiling, thank you Isabel once again for your positive feedback, and impressions on where our Karima of the story is going..Yes, “The Dress” is featured in this one because you pointed me in the right direction with the right words, “Oh I know you will love this dress.” Thank you for that nudge..as you were so right..it is exactly what she would be dressed in on the other side..and yes the point you make is one I feel the story makes very clearly too, envy, suspicions of those different than ourselves, and down right nasty “judgementalism”, unfortunately for the lovers of my story, were found too in that parallel world that first promised to be almost a type of alien paradise. In the end paradise might only be found in Paradise… but love is a very powerful force indeed. She did feel there was another voice inside her… maybe they are not as separated as those evil forces imagined they would be…
to be continued….:)
un abrazo fuerte, y muchas gracias por tu comentario..
that gives me hope …..bright smile *****
and continue fast 🙂
Quite a turn of events. I am waiting for the next installment. Hoping our heroine can get things back on course.
I’m working on it Hoyt, as I feel the whip cracking in the background, driving me on..two whips actually as Isabel, is anxious too *smiles* to know what will happen.. For now..just trust in our heroine and trust in love 🙂
Well….this IS a saga! Just like in RL-nothing concerning humans ever goes smoothly. Where is our heroine? In the cheesy 50s potboilers, some nutcase had some issue with his mother. He then took over banks and used tough-guy language to prove how hard-boiled he was. Cruelty to others seems to be a human stamp on life. Shakespeare wrote often about about young lovers and the whole machinery built to bar their love. Can thousands of years of Greek tragedies be wrong? The parents…jealous suitors….an angry jilted lover…boyfriend…fill in the blank….
We are brought to see the basic rightness of the young lovers/ bonds. And the endless machinations to destroy that…to protect the status quo. The agenda of the currently entrenched. As much as anything-this is about abuse of power. Easily forced on the innocent. The helpless. Same old same old. The hapless Karima is simply a chess-piece being moved in a larger power game. Played by those she cannot see. Cannot understand. Sound familiar? It should. This sorry game is being played the world around on innocents everywhere.
The bloody red hand-the mark of the damaged doing more damage. In this world, the innocents never see or grasp the strings being pulled to manipulate their lives. They only feel the results…the losses…the injuries..the imprint… Love gone bad. Trust gone awry. Beliefs in false gods proved faulty. All the human disappointments.The failings…large hands leave many wounds. Unfeeling boyfriends, governments, judicial systems…We all get our time in the bag. In the long run, we get to see all sides of causing pain and then being the victim. The fears and angers of the fierce hand-the trembling of the innocent victims. We all get to play all roles. Beliefs are not about hearts and flowers. They are about talking a stand for right and justice and feeling the bitter sting of injustice. We take all sides, eventually.
Once again Karima grapples with tough moral and ethical issues as well as issues of the heart. Painful but necessary. . Finally, it is a profound cruelty to injure one who loves us- in any way that is vicious, and merely desiring to hurt. Random cruelty. Enough, already. God will serve up lessons until we get this….I guarantee…Stay tuned…..
Whew Tube..and now I expect nothing less from you, but another angle and take on the inner workings of my story. I always love your fresh, passionate and flowing feelings and impressions that reading my chapters leave you. Your voice never disappoints to make me feel and see my own story in so many new ways, like facets in a diamond, you name each one by name, where I might only see the glow and the general cut.. Thank you..I always look forward to your comments.. they really do give me another way of seeing my own twisting plot..and scenes.. when I see them through your wise eyes
Kari: I am loving the action of your images..these are simply wondrous artworks, and stand on their own, but are of course an integral part of your stories! Bravo!
Yes this chapter was especially action-packed, and just about wore me out before I could publish it. I am so pleased you are enjoying my story and have been such a loyal reader of it from the very beginning. Thank you once again Happiness for all your comments and continual support, which inspires me to push envelopes of my own creativity..
Second Life is about sharing.. for most of us anyways..and it is so much fun to see what others have created for us..to feast our eyes upon.
DOUGIE has been a real inspiration in that area.. One of my first Mainland friends, he has helped me to discover that diverse and highly creative land that we island dwellers sometimes miss. I know you too are documenting these places too as a helpful nudge to other residents to get out and see and enjoy all that our virtual world has to offer, Thank you once again for your comment Happi:)
This is why I have to go so long between reading these 🙂 there is so much in each one! The story already seemed so full, but you open new layers and new emotions and feelings in every episode, even every paragraph.
“I have this strange memory or vision that there are infinite beds, with infinite girls like myself, arms stretched out wide, that we are only changing textures. We are only changing textures… on puzzle pieces that click into place, forming the fabric of the entire picture. As many as can be imagined above and as many as can be imagined below and somehow these all have to do with the deepest way of loving. ”
We are only changing textures…
Thank you Dale, for taking the time to read these Colored Dreams. I know they take some time, especially as you are also listening to the mp3’s. The fact you are enjoying them, a lot later than when I first began writing them, makes me feel that it was a good thing, I let my muse take me by the hand, and get into this very long and complicated project.. that from beginning until the final word, I still feel I had very little to do with. Almost two years later now, re-reading them with you, I feel no ownership, and can barley believe I was capable of fabricating such a bizarre tale.The Dreams took me way out of my comfort zone, which was poetry and some light blogging, and made me trust in the creative process….whatever that really means….