Cathedral Of Dreams Excert #1
A soul is like a glass pane, a transparent window into oneself. Only noticeable if it were to crack and distort itself in reality. Dreams are these worldly distortions, holding enough semblance of reality to appear believable enough in our realm. Yet, what if one was to be in the dream world, what if you stood on the other side of the window, and suddenly that same crack allowed reality to flow and distort the dreamscape? That is what it feels like being within the Cathedral of Dreams.
My venture into the Cathederal occurred that night of bloodshed where bandits slaughtered my family for the little clothes they spared on their back. They forced my eyes open, forced me to my knees and I watched as my wife and daughter were beheaded, eyes and mouth agape in disbelief and sorrow. A lifetime still yet to bloom, chopped from the stem. The memories are as muffled as my vision was blurred through my tears, I remember little. Perhaps that was for the best. My next memories came from later that night, my legs in agonising pain to rival that of my shattered heart. I lay, broken and unable to move. My body suppressed by hate and hurt left me only able to look up towards the night sky, naming every God or Goddess, Deity or self-proclaimed miracle worker and throwing them whatever insults my tired brain could muster.
I didn't know what to expect from them. Hurling insults at Eternals who had lost far more than I could ever but as if in answer to my blasphemy the blue sky seemed to dim. Green light flared up over the horizon. A fire I had thought it must be, the green hue simply another blur through my vision. But no, this green flame engulfed the night sky. The boundless edges of the upper realm all burning above me. I couldn't take my eyes off the tragedy I was witnessing, the Lady of Silver and her nightly court who ruled the stars were suddenly gone. A cursed flame, burning through the defences of Helm, conquering the lands of Selûne. And I, a commoner who had lost more than all, lay atop the white snow of my village, the smell of my neighbour's burnt homes still echoing in my senses, a fitting smell to be overwhelmed with.
Perhaps it was the Candlebearer who put an end to the flame, for in but a fraction of a moment the sky was blown out, and darkness that rivalled the darkest days of Monter settled over me. Blanketing my senses until I could no longer tell whether my eyes were open or not.
A soft hum of light eventually broke the stiffness of the air, a rainbow glow played upon my eyelids. So my eyes had been closed. They struggle to open but finally, I get a glimpse of myself. I find myself atop my feet once again, suffering from no pain in fact! My legs had returned but my awareness of myself was still vacant. I stumble to a nearby pillar, my eyes still fluttering as they struggle to take in the bright light in front of me. Eventually, they adjust to the brightness and I can see firstly, the artistry of the pillar I lean up against, not in its masonwork, though that was profoundly superb as well, but in its colouring. The pillar I found myself looking at reminded me of one of those paintings a street merchant would sell on the high roads of Lodingnam. An almost abstract art style, one I would never bear witness in my home village or any village of the sought. The sheer pigments needed to create the colours I see, I wasn't sure they all existed.
My eyes change target to the source of the light, a great double door, 15 feet tall at least, and seemingly filled in with glass stained the same impossible colours of the pillar I now shifted more of my weight upon. The door shimmered and the colours inside swam around like fish in a frozen pond. The more I watched the uncanny colours shift the dizzier I felt, for I was looking at something impossible. I turned to search for the enchantress that must have been casting a spell on the door, and through the door on me. But as I turned around all I could see was darkness. That same darkness that had engulfed me earlier. This darkness spread to every inch of this space bar the pillar and the door. I could see no walls attached to the door, nor could I see the roof, or even the floor, of where the pillar supported.
I find myself curiously investigating the door's edges, I circle it only to find the same pillar on the other side. I circle it again, and then again. Even knowing the outcome every time I am still left perplexed. I let out a hearty laugh that quickly devolves into insane screeching. I run toward the door, bashing against it, sending all my weight into it. Not once did I try to open it. I simply did not think something so profound and unique and beautifully estranged should be allowed to exist in the same room as I. I wanted to destroy it. A primal instinct of jealousy runs cold in my blood, jealousy of an inanimate door's beauty, the simple absurdity of that was enough to drive me more lucid in my anger.
Perhaps it was inconsiderate to the forces that willed my legs back to health that I now used them to assault this transcendental doorway. Perhaps it was inconsiderate to take my grief and anger out on something this beautiful. Perhaps it was inconsiderate, but I had nothing else to lose and my fear and sorrow only wanted to escape. Yet, like the feelings within me, I remained trapped in this ethereal waiting room. A sound emitted from my mouth, something between a guttural cry and a howling child, my mind could not rest, visions of death and poverty played sporadically between my memories of my daughter and my wife. One second I think of her 3rd birthday where we travelled up the forest path full of flowers that had stayed in season longer than they should. A gift of nature I could never rival as a father, for young minds are so bound to the natural beauty of the world that there was nothing but my love that could rival a gift as great. But my mind jumps, before my smile can finish curling I feel the hunger I had felt day after day as I sacrificed my meals to my loved ones, the failure that I was taunting myself as I failed to supply for my family, my father would be disgraced. And then the doorway shines yet another happy memory, my wife wedding me. Only when I look up from her amazing gown her head is nowhere to be seen. I scream as the haunting image is stained upon my eyelids so that even when I close my eyes I see her lifeless look of shock. I charge the door harder, and harder, trying to knock myself out now, trying to prevent further thoughts as my mind continues to discombobulate my past.
Yet I feel no pain. Nothing physically hurts. It's all in my head. Everything is in my head. My body starts to move on its own, almost ritualistically dancing around the door. I don't know why I make these movements, I'm in such a state where nothing matters why shouldn't I dance as my head is filled with the cosmos of regrets and pain of a full lifetime's worth?
My brainless activities are halted by the smell of freshly inked paper and newly bounded leather as I see the doorway in front of me creak ever so slightly. The hope that I had thought had disappeared from me roars to life as I lunge toward the door, throwing my arm through the crevice of my curiosity. And to my amazement the door doesn't close, it allows me to slowly push it open, gliding along the ground with ease leaving no marking on the black ground. Once again my eyes are blinded as I physically recall back from the sights I see. Blinded by both the light and the sheer wonderment of the room before me I try to regather my scattered thoughts, I try to take in what I am seeing. And I imagine I have the same expression my daughter had when she first saw an enchanter blossom flames from her hand. An expression of puzzlement and wonder and a mind now exposed to an infinite new number of possibilities seeing something so impossible be possible. [be]
The room defied whatever barren knowledge of architecture I held, pillars seems to curve and sway up towards unevenly arched rooves, glass lanterns inbuilt into the stonework shed their unique colours down into the room. The corridors were seemingly endless and infinite, new archways and openings appeared sporadically giving way to more spectres of rooms. I have heard and read recounts of those who had claimed to witness stars falling to our lands, they describe them as an ethereal beauty full of purples, blues and greens seen nowhere else in our lands. Well, wherever I was, I saw all these colours, and I saw reds and oranges and yellows that I could not comprehend no matter how long my eyes tried to settle on them. Within the walls stood tall and proud bookshelves, housing books of every and any language, if I was not paralyzed where I stood from being so overwhelmed I would be rushing toward them for my wife would adore some of the beautiful bindings on them...
In a moment of serendipitous wonderment, one seems to forget even the darkest of memories.
The room started to shift, the corridors stretching wide but getting closer. Coming at me like a wild leopard. The infinite rooms shrunk, and suddenly I was claustrophobic, uneasy and wanting to leave. The beautiful colours of the realm faded to blacks and whites, a monochromatic dreamscape of possibilities surrounded me and I was lost and confused. My heart was as devoid of colour as my surroundings. I collapse to the ground, a circular tome of paper beside me. A glance toward it and a foreign word strewn among the pages glows blue. The blue glow lights up the black and white room, casting shadows of any colour on the near and far walls. A woman dances up from the words, growing into a life-sized figure. Her skin, soft like the ice of the oceans, a light glossy blue similar to what he imagined an elemental would be, complimented by her waist-long silver hair that eerily floats as if she was drowning under water. She danced around the room, prancing and flying, not held down by any force of gravity. Her rainbow shadows seemed to copy her dance however, some would stutter their movement or perhaps fall and get up and continue again. Each Shadow telling a different story. Showing a different dance.
A conflict of emotion starts to send trembles through my bones. The conflict of my simple life in the final battle with this onslaught of impossibilities. My scattered throughs continue to slowly return to me, this place of impossibilities. Where the impossible is possible. I continued to ponder my situation, fueled by the loss of those who were everything. A simple man who lost everything that made him so. The woman continued to dance, she was now in some intricate ballroom-styled dance with one of her shadows, and I cried, and I cried. But I smiled. I would no longer be the simple man. No longer be that commoner who ends in a report to the royals as just another casualty. I will not allow my family to be a casualty. And I was now in a place, where I think anything is possible. With a new fire lit within me, I started to read.
I started to practice.
My venture into the Cathederal occurred that night of bloodshed where bandits slaughtered my family for the little clothes they spared on their back. They forced my eyes open, forced me to my knees and I watched as my wife and daughter were beheaded, eyes and mouth agape in disbelief and sorrow. A lifetime still yet to bloom, chopped from the stem. The memories are as muffled as my vision was blurred through my tears, I remember little. Perhaps that was for the best. My next memories came from later that night, my legs in agonising pain to rival that of my shattered heart. I lay, broken and unable to move. My body suppressed by hate and hurt left me only able to look up towards the night sky, naming every God or Goddess, Deity or self-proclaimed miracle worker and throwing them whatever insults my tired brain could muster.
I didn't know what to expect from them. Hurling insults at Eternals who had lost far more than I could ever but as if in answer to my blasphemy the blue sky seemed to dim. Green light flared up over the horizon. A fire I had thought it must be, the green hue simply another blur through my vision. But no, this green flame engulfed the night sky. The boundless edges of the upper realm all burning above me. I couldn't take my eyes off the tragedy I was witnessing, the Lady of Silver and her nightly court who ruled the stars were suddenly gone. A cursed flame, burning through the defences of Helm, conquering the lands of Selûne. And I, a commoner who had lost more than all, lay atop the white snow of my village, the smell of my neighbour's burnt homes still echoing in my senses, a fitting smell to be overwhelmed with.
Perhaps it was the Candlebearer who put an end to the flame, for in but a fraction of a moment the sky was blown out, and darkness that rivalled the darkest days of Monter settled over me. Blanketing my senses until I could no longer tell whether my eyes were open or not.
A soft hum of light eventually broke the stiffness of the air, a rainbow glow played upon my eyelids. So my eyes had been closed. They struggle to open but finally, I get a glimpse of myself. I find myself atop my feet once again, suffering from no pain in fact! My legs had returned but my awareness of myself was still vacant. I stumble to a nearby pillar, my eyes still fluttering as they struggle to take in the bright light in front of me. Eventually, they adjust to the brightness and I can see firstly, the artistry of the pillar I lean up against, not in its masonwork, though that was profoundly superb as well, but in its colouring. The pillar I found myself looking at reminded me of one of those paintings a street merchant would sell on the high roads of Lodingnam. An almost abstract art style, one I would never bear witness in my home village or any village of the sought. The sheer pigments needed to create the colours I see, I wasn't sure they all existed.
My eyes change target to the source of the light, a great double door, 15 feet tall at least, and seemingly filled in with glass stained the same impossible colours of the pillar I now shifted more of my weight upon. The door shimmered and the colours inside swam around like fish in a frozen pond. The more I watched the uncanny colours shift the dizzier I felt, for I was looking at something impossible. I turned to search for the enchantress that must have been casting a spell on the door, and through the door on me. But as I turned around all I could see was darkness. That same darkness that had engulfed me earlier. This darkness spread to every inch of this space bar the pillar and the door. I could see no walls attached to the door, nor could I see the roof, or even the floor, of where the pillar supported.
I find myself curiously investigating the door's edges, I circle it only to find the same pillar on the other side. I circle it again, and then again. Even knowing the outcome every time I am still left perplexed. I let out a hearty laugh that quickly devolves into insane screeching. I run toward the door, bashing against it, sending all my weight into it. Not once did I try to open it. I simply did not think something so profound and unique and beautifully estranged should be allowed to exist in the same room as I. I wanted to destroy it. A primal instinct of jealousy runs cold in my blood, jealousy of an inanimate door's beauty, the simple absurdity of that was enough to drive me more lucid in my anger.
Perhaps it was inconsiderate to the forces that willed my legs back to health that I now used them to assault this transcendental doorway. Perhaps it was inconsiderate to take my grief and anger out on something this beautiful. Perhaps it was inconsiderate, but I had nothing else to lose and my fear and sorrow only wanted to escape. Yet, like the feelings within me, I remained trapped in this ethereal waiting room. A sound emitted from my mouth, something between a guttural cry and a howling child, my mind could not rest, visions of death and poverty played sporadically between my memories of my daughter and my wife. One second I think of her 3rd birthday where we travelled up the forest path full of flowers that had stayed in season longer than they should. A gift of nature I could never rival as a father, for young minds are so bound to the natural beauty of the world that there was nothing but my love that could rival a gift as great. But my mind jumps, before my smile can finish curling I feel the hunger I had felt day after day as I sacrificed my meals to my loved ones, the failure that I was taunting myself as I failed to supply for my family, my father would be disgraced. And then the doorway shines yet another happy memory, my wife wedding me. Only when I look up from her amazing gown her head is nowhere to be seen. I scream as the haunting image is stained upon my eyelids so that even when I close my eyes I see her lifeless look of shock. I charge the door harder, and harder, trying to knock myself out now, trying to prevent further thoughts as my mind continues to discombobulate my past.
Yet I feel no pain. Nothing physically hurts. It's all in my head. Everything is in my head. My body starts to move on its own, almost ritualistically dancing around the door. I don't know why I make these movements, I'm in such a state where nothing matters why shouldn't I dance as my head is filled with the cosmos of regrets and pain of a full lifetime's worth?
My brainless activities are halted by the smell of freshly inked paper and newly bounded leather as I see the doorway in front of me creak ever so slightly. The hope that I had thought had disappeared from me roars to life as I lunge toward the door, throwing my arm through the crevice of my curiosity. And to my amazement the door doesn't close, it allows me to slowly push it open, gliding along the ground with ease leaving no marking on the black ground. Once again my eyes are blinded as I physically recall back from the sights I see. Blinded by both the light and the sheer wonderment of the room before me I try to regather my scattered thoughts, I try to take in what I am seeing. And I imagine I have the same expression my daughter had when she first saw an enchanter blossom flames from her hand. An expression of puzzlement and wonder and a mind now exposed to an infinite new number of possibilities seeing something so impossible be possible. [be]
In a moment of serendipitous wonderment, one seems to forget even the darkest of memories.
The room started to shift, the corridors stretching wide but getting closer. Coming at me like a wild leopard. The infinite rooms shrunk, and suddenly I was claustrophobic, uneasy and wanting to leave. The beautiful colours of the realm faded to blacks and whites, a monochromatic dreamscape of possibilities surrounded me and I was lost and confused. My heart was as devoid of colour as my surroundings. I collapse to the ground, a circular tome of paper beside me. A glance toward it and a foreign word strewn among the pages glows blue. The blue glow lights up the black and white room, casting shadows of any colour on the near and far walls. A woman dances up from the words, growing into a life-sized figure. Her skin, soft like the ice of the oceans, a light glossy blue similar to what he imagined an elemental would be, complimented by her waist-long silver hair that eerily floats as if she was drowning under water. She danced around the room, prancing and flying, not held down by any force of gravity. Her rainbow shadows seemed to copy her dance however, some would stutter their movement or perhaps fall and get up and continue again. Each Shadow telling a different story. Showing a different dance.
A conflict of emotion starts to send trembles through my bones. The conflict of my simple life in the final battle with this onslaught of impossibilities. My scattered throughs continue to slowly return to me, this place of impossibilities. Where the impossible is possible. I continued to ponder my situation, fueled by the loss of those who were everything. A simple man who lost everything that made him so. The woman continued to dance, she was now in some intricate ballroom-styled dance with one of her shadows, and I cried, and I cried. But I smiled. I would no longer be the simple man. No longer be that commoner who ends in a report to the royals as just another casualty. I will not allow my family to be a casualty. And I was now in a place, where I think anything is possible. With a new fire lit within me, I started to read.
I started to practice.
