Post by goldenmyst on Jun 8, 2020 14:03:14 GMT -6
A dream I had a few days after 9/11
The sky is turquoise blue with wispy clouds splashed in swirls like flowers. The clouds look like spiral galaxies with tendrils curled out like fern fronds. We are congregated amidst a large colonnade.
In the middle of the plaza, the sage stands upon a pedestal and gazes up at the brilliant blue sky. His short white ash beard and alabaster face are bathed in morning light. He wears a buttoned white linen shirt, which is the color of Easter lilies. His face is illuminated in rapture by the bright solar shine. With each sacred breath, I drink in libations of the crisp mountain air.
I gaze across the hills at the clouds. The ceremony is almost complete, as I feel the ecstasy of trance sweep through my mind. The sky grows dark emerald and the whorl of clouds sparkles in exquisite patterns, with red and yellow dots of light, like celestial Christmas lights. I waver, dipping in and out of the night sea of visions. All creation, the birds, trees, and mountains harmonize in the song of life, as joy fills my heart.
I emerge back into the daylight world and gaze across the pavilion. Women are gathered like dark moths, covered in pitch-black dresses, their faces hidden by veils. They stand as still as trees on a windless day, quietly facing the east, as the sun rises higher in its passage across the sky. The temple is awash in silence as priests, robed in their vestments, gaze on from the rim while steadfastly gripping their pastoral staffs.
Sadness washes through me like a winter mist. Clouds cover the sun while casting an umbra over the flock of pilgrims. Eternity stretches out like an endless river. In the twilight hush, we wait.
The sky is turquoise blue with wispy clouds splashed in swirls like flowers. The clouds look like spiral galaxies with tendrils curled out like fern fronds. We are congregated amidst a large colonnade.
In the middle of the plaza, the sage stands upon a pedestal and gazes up at the brilliant blue sky. His short white ash beard and alabaster face are bathed in morning light. He wears a buttoned white linen shirt, which is the color of Easter lilies. His face is illuminated in rapture by the bright solar shine. With each sacred breath, I drink in libations of the crisp mountain air.
I gaze across the hills at the clouds. The ceremony is almost complete, as I feel the ecstasy of trance sweep through my mind. The sky grows dark emerald and the whorl of clouds sparkles in exquisite patterns, with red and yellow dots of light, like celestial Christmas lights. I waver, dipping in and out of the night sea of visions. All creation, the birds, trees, and mountains harmonize in the song of life, as joy fills my heart.
I emerge back into the daylight world and gaze across the pavilion. Women are gathered like dark moths, covered in pitch-black dresses, their faces hidden by veils. They stand as still as trees on a windless day, quietly facing the east, as the sun rises higher in its passage across the sky. The temple is awash in silence as priests, robed in their vestments, gaze on from the rim while steadfastly gripping their pastoral staffs.
Sadness washes through me like a winter mist. Clouds cover the sun while casting an umbra over the flock of pilgrims. Eternity stretches out like an endless river. In the twilight hush, we wait.
