Tzoli's Red Leather Journal

Dreams in Colour: Orange

A blurry, sleep ridden image of a field moving past. In front are a pair of draw animals pulling a open air carriage forward. The backdrop is ever changing, distant and blurry. The smell of grass fills the nostrals. A woman sits nearby, glowing with the light of the large sun, "It is almost time for your birth day isn't it little star? They don't celebrate it where you are do they?"

Momma...? No, I'm asleep aren't I? Aren't I?

Confusions fills the mind and the heart followed by a sense of nostalgia.

A small farm house becomes visible in the distance, a woman with dark skin stands in front of the house, waving. She stands next to a fair-skinned, but tanned man. "Look, Aunty Linna is waving to you, wave back, always wave back. She's excited for you today. Do you understand why?" Lifting a scarred hand and waving back, the scars are fairly fresh, but healed.

I don't remember this. Is this real? Did this happen?

The scene changes and everyone is around a small table. On the table is several bottles of wine, each one marked with a specific label 'Kita Farm Reserve'. There are plates full of muffins, cakes and other assorted succulent dishes. Looking down, a bright yellow dress can be seen covering the dark skinned body. Long white gloves cover the scarred hands and arms.

Did this happen? Is this a dream? It must be a dream. yes, a dream.

Confusion -- Nostalgia

Polite eating and conversation, most of which drifts by unheard and misunderstood. Food dissapears like smoke, leaving only empty dishes. Things are cleared away, only wine is left, the gloved hand reaches for the crystal glass and sips it politely.

"It is the Anniversary of your Birth little star. We have gifts for you. Hold your glass properly, don't let your hand dawdle, I don't care if you can't feel it, that's no excuse for impropriety at the dinner table. Manners are important." The slight scolding is not ill-tempered, just a reminder.

"Today you are fifteen, that means your are a woman. We know we cannot celebrate it with your wedding, so instead we just have gifts." From the smoke, delicately wrapped presents appear on the table, each one wrapped in orange paper and tied with an orange ribbon.

The gloved hand reaches out for one and it moves away as if of its own accord.

Frustration

The hand moves to another gift, this one jumps into it, as if pulled to it by a similar gravity. It opens by itself. Paper rises from the box like steam. Inside of the tissue paper is a delicate chain, upon which is the symbol of Balor.

Did I ever have anything like that? Is this real? Balor, what is this dream? It is just a dream isn't it?

A motherly hand puts the necklace on and the golden symbol sears itself to the skin over the heart but with no pain, no feeling. For a moment, everything in the vision turns orange, then darkens to red. "Be a lioness. Protective and strong. Be a hunter."

Posted by Tzoli at March 21, 2005 12:08 PM