Crystal Ball of Dreams……


 

And through the black

did cut the knife.

To sever bonds and

taint the life

of the blessed……

 

 

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Forever Never/The Dawn of Illusion

by Cheryl Penniington

copyright 2014

 

As the satisfied inhabitants of Domhan’s Foirfeachta slept quietly, dark visions began to invade the dreams of one who was outside of the new circle of creation.

 

Crystal Ball of Sleep

Naofa

Noafa found herself standing on the crest of the hillside, its peak rising high above the crystal lake, and gazed across the valley to the ocean and beyond. As her eyes scanned the horizon, with the sky’s hue deepening to coral shades, her heart was filled with peace and serenity.
 

This spell of gratitude, although welcome,  was broken all too soon by the intrusive sound of something crashing through the deep forest on the horizon, and soon was accompanied by a high pitched screech.  Thrusting her hands over her ears to stop the pain of it, she looked up, awed as the sky faded from the delicate shade of twilight into pitch black, without a star to light the darkness. Only the giant moon hung above her head; and it seemed to be leering at her, its shadows melting into deep-set eyes and a wide, mirthless grin that spread from one edge to the other.  From somewhere behind that grinning moon a bright flash of light streaked across the sudden night as though it would rip the sky in two. Gaining speed and growing wider as it made its way to the earth, this lightening bolt captivated Naofa. She was frozen as she traced the path that it made, her gray eyes unwavering; and she watched as the light morphed into a red glow of fire,  Her soul cried out in horror as it ended its journey in the most treasured garden of Foirfeachta!

 When the red bolt struck the ground, everything became lit with fire, ablaze with orange and red fury.  The Sorceress was helpless where she stood, stricken with horror as smoke tendrils curled up against the glare of red and yellow light that now defined the sky above the heart of Domhan, now beating in terror. Although too distant to see what was taking place, she heard the cries of her friends in her head, as if they were right next to her. She listened to the Mother of humankind pleading for mercy, she heard the hoarse cries of the one who lived to love her, and felt the fear choking the breath of all that lived within the heart of her world.  Rising above these sounds arose the clanging of some kind of strange weapon.  She saw them clearly, glistening devices of death she had never known before. 

She wanted to turn from the place of her vision but remain transfixed; and now she saw bodies sprawled upon ashes that lay prostrate before the breath of a blazing beast that hovered above the charred ruin of Foirfeachta. Her eyes flew open in horror as the creature began flapping scaly, leathered wings, preparing to strike again. Naofa couldn’t breathe.  From what unspeakable corner of Eternity had this cruel beast arisen?  Her heart shattered at the thought of those she loved, those she had sworn to protect, now helpless against this creature of darkness. Where were M’na and Amhain? She could not identify the fallen.  Forcing her eyes away from the scene of death, she looked wildly for some sign of salvation; but her eyes met only a dense, low mist that crept across the hillside where she stood.

 
There, almost within her arm’s reach, another scene began to play out.  Through the vapors she saw a young male, tall and handsome, riding a brilliant white animal. His eyes were flashing with anger, his muscles taught, as he sat atop the magnificent animal, his long legs prodding it onward.  Naofa could feel pain, anger, and desire driving him onward. No stopping, he thought, for he knew he had to reach her, free her, before it was too late.

But who she was the, Sorceress did not know. Beyond his pain, loneliness and fierce determination, Naofa felt something else; and yet she couldn’t name it.  Then, the willowy, long-legged beast turned its head slightly to glance back at Noafa, its long white mane blowing across its face. In that moment she caught a glimmer of something in its eye. Defiance!  The rider rode quickly beyond her sight;  and she cast her eyes once more toward the fires in Foirfeachta. What had been a blazing inferno mere moments before was now a charred speck on the horizon.  All was black, save a misty smoke that hung above the burnt branches that once were mighty trees, their living limbs reaching to their Creators.

 
The night was still and silent save the weeping, moaning and pleading to the Eternal Realm for help.  She tried lift her own voice with the others; but the words caught in her throat. Trying to move, she found herself frozen in place. Struggling wildly to free her feet, she looked down to see that they were as gnarled vines, now deeply rooted in the hillside.  Despair consumed her aching heart.  She had waited too long. Somehow, she knew this was her own fault. Turning her face to the cloudless black, she raised her fists in anger and began to wail.  
 
Noafa awoke to the sounds of her own angry cries and the pain of her fingernails clawing at her ankles, trying to free them from the earthen shackles of her dream. She looked around and saw that she remained safely in the Garden where the others were still fast asleep.  Her skin was soaked, her hair dripping with sweat.  Shivering, she climbed out of bed, quickly pulled her tunic on,  and quietly crept to each and every bed of those she championed, checking their breathing, looking for intrusion. She fully expected to find some sign of death, some shred of dark interference.  There was nothing.  She could not go back to sleep now so she sat on the steps outside her dwelling.  As soon as she saw the first shards of dawn cutting through the blanket of dark forest, she greeted the new day with gratitude.  This had been merely a vision after all;  but she had to decide what it meant for herself and the others on Domhan….
 
 
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to be continued…..
 
 
 
Thank you for reading.  I really would appreciate any feedback or comments. 

 

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4 thoughts on “Crystal Ball of Dreams……

  1. I was to read this on Sunday. But some people, who had hired me to supervise the lighting of their new home and the installation of a generator, sent me wrong documents and incompatible software, thereby ruining my weekend.
    But I have managed to read it, though I’m at work. I must ask: did you hurry through this chapter? I have a feeling you did. It has the tone of one of those impromptu chapters that sometimes happen to a writer.
    Or perhaps I feel this way because I had a preconception of the story upon seeing the image of the crystal ball. It resembles one that I saw in The Lord of the Rings with Saruman, and later Gandalf. “The Seeing Stone,” I think they called it. I thought Naofa the Sorceress had acquired herself one and was using it to view the sleeping Domhan. I was wrong.
    But this dream, it has the texture of a view through a Seeing Stone. The destruction, the death. The horror. It reminded me of when the Lady Galadriel inspired Frodo to look into the water and see how the Shire would be destroyed by Saruman if he, Frodo, should failed in his mission. I can’t help thinking that what Naofa sees is Death. Death has come to Domhan. So far there hadn’t been any human deaths. Yet the creators had brought down termination upon them. Naofa’s vision must be symbolic of the wanton, endless destruction to come. Allow me to allude that “the eye of Sauron is now cast upon Domhan, as it was upon Gondor.” There is no escape.
    I can’t quite put in place the elegant rider and the defiant animal. Yet the defiance in the animal’s eye and the rider’s thoughts about freeing an imprisoned woman both portend hard times. It also signifies the dereliction of the Creator’s will and unconditional love, when man begins to trust in his own impermanent strength and specious wisdom. The rider feels that he must be the one to set free the woman–he believes it is in his power to give her freedom. Yet himself, he has no freedom to give but that which he’s been given by the Creator. This is wrong. It is what we do here on earth, thinking that freedom is ours to give and take. And the upshot is apt to be death, dearth, and disease–the selfsame conditions that plague us all. In other words, the people of Domhan are beginning to live for vanity. It is said that love is what makes the world go around. But I think it is vanity. That I am more important than you, that my possessions are better, that even the love that I give is better than all. Domhan has lost its lustre.

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    1. Hi Peter. Sorry about your heavy workload. Thanks so much for reading. It was not a chapter I did in a hurry, no; but it is merely part of a longer one which I didn’t want to put up the entire piece. People tend not to read posts that are too lengthy. The preocess is less stretched because, well, I have already been told my novel is too long; so in some places I have not tarried as much as I could have. Besides, it is merely a dream, without enough dteail for our troubled Sorceress to perceive much detail. Did you ever read any of the early chapters? You need to read at least the first, well, really all to get the full grasp of the unfolding.
      Thanks for all of your perceptions and intuitions. You are so well understanding the meanings as they are pkaying out but with one exception. These are humans and yet, this still is not our world. We have become so many sleepwalkers and do behave so often in selfish, mindless fashin. Our friends in Domhan, whila awakening to their own human natures in the physical, are struggling to remain close to Spirit, to keep alive the Love which created the All That Is. Yes, it is fallible, no matter how you go at it. The only other thing to have been done was virtually nothing. And how boring that would have been….;) hope you have a great week.

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