[Lerune]: 6.Odd Writings.

Endymion Dreams


I am running. I am always running. There is no memory of anything that has ever been before my ceaseless race across this strange land, fearing for my very life, fearing for my soul. Death is behind me. He is creeping upon me fast in the form of an unknown that I cannot see. In my mind, I envision a beast: a crazed, black hell-hound with yellowed eyes and an insatiable hunger for my very own flesh. I can hear him baying, the sound reverberating through my mind and chilling my bones with the unveiling of the realization that my escape is necessary, yet impossible. I know inside that he will not rest until the sweet bliss of my flesh, cold and clammy from the sweat that taints me as I run, is at last in his acrid, foaming mouth. Again, he howls his chilling song to me: deep inside, I know that I will die.

The castle that stands so tall and still beside me is ominous. Its onyx tiers reach high and never-ending; they hold the cloaked sky, devoid of stars, above me. Tears stream down my flushed face. I do not want to die. I feel the blistering, sulfur breath of the beast on my heels and I know that I have no choice but to alleviate all restraint and give in. Already, I feel the intensity within, my lungs are near collapse, my heart is pounding so furiously that it alone frightens me. Slowly, I am embracing the concept of failing, of letting the beast overtake me. I know that doing so is death, but doing so will also soothe this horrendous pain that is vexing me. Once again, he howls. He howls in triumph, for he can smell my fear and doubt, and the sky rumbles in response to his joy. There is only one god here...the storm god, Baal, father and mentor of this beast....

The thunder and the howling converge into one and reverberate through my mind as condescending laughter - mockery at me for knowing that I have lost, though still striving to live. I panic. With utter desperation, I search for some type of refuge, some haven for my weary, bleeding soul. As I near the corner of the great stone castle, the hellish pain in my side screams at me and I know that I cannot make it any farther. I know that in mere seconds, I will be finished. I realize that I am truly losing, perhaps I have already lost.

The corner of the castle comes and goes, and I find myself racing through an open courtyard, drawing on energy that has long ago faded. I need deliverance. My heart cannot keep up with me. In the distance, I see a faint light and that smallest spark of hope in me rekindles. If I can only make it to the light, perhaps I will be safe. The howling of the beast is now complete laughter as it taunts me, telling me that I will never make it. I feel the hot sulfur of his breath on my back, and true terror grips me once more, forcing me to go my very last mile. My breath comes in gasps that pound away at the strength of my lungs. I am going to collapse; I cannot make it. Slowly, I begin to believe the beast: I cannot escape him. His howling grows louder and louder, and still I run faster and faster. He is right behind me -- I am at arms length to him now. I scream: why have I been forsaken in this place? My lament is futile, my end is near.

And then...

Stillness. Soundlessness. Solace.

Is this the end?

Unbelievingly, I realize that this is not the end. Somehow, some way, I have made it to the light that I saw in the distance. I stand still and amazed. I can no longer hear the howling of the beast, instead, all I hear is the pulsating, bass-lull of total silence. For some reason, unknown to even me, I have ceased my running. My breathing slows, my heart returns to its normal beating and I am not afraid. As suddenly as I had thought I would die, I am now at peace. Serenity. I look around me to search for the source of my consolation, my reverence. It is then that I always behold him: the immortal god of my idolatry.

As I near him, I see that he lies so still and undisturbed upon this hill that had before been so far from my reach. I forget for a moment that I had once been afraid. All within my jagged mind is forced to focus on his magnificence. He is beautiful, he is luminous. His body, his mere image is perfection. I know that should I touch him, he would be silk beneath my fingertips. I am entranced. I cannot drink enough of his splendor. I am possessed by the mere sight of him and my pitiful words cannot utter a decent portrayal of his spell-binding elegance. I see his hands folded so carefully across his chest, his long, splendid fingers entwined together, and I think for a moment that I will touch the sweetness of his hand, but I hesitate.

I always hesitate.

I am jolted back into the hell of reality, or what can be called reality in this place. I recall that the beast has stopped his howling and his advancement upon me. I glance around and cannot see him outside the radiance of the soft light that encompasses me. Above me, the clouds are dark and there is no moon to elucidate my surroundings. The clouds break open at times to reveal parched, crimson stars, yet they are not what lights my way. I glance back at him: the light is coming faintly from him. The light is his luminous presence. I am sheltered by this light as I make my way closer to him to take my place at his feet and gaze upon him completely. For some reason, I feel at peace, I feel as if I belong. As I begin to feel at ease, I notice the storm beginning.

Jagged red lightning rips across the skies. More like bloody lesions forming in the clouds than lightning, it still lights the darkness around me for a moment and I see the yellowed eyes of the beast. He is still waiting. His mouth hangs open and he pants from his running, allowing his saliva to drip onto the cold, dark ground, mixing the blood from his last kill with the yellow pus of desiccation and infection. Repulsed, I turn away. Above me, the sky groans and wails as the storm promises to worsen. I know the master of the beast is angry: Baal does not hide his disgust. This causes me to look once more at my radiant, shining savior. So peacefully, he sleeps and I wonder if he even knows that I have come into his presence. Moreover, I wonder why the beast fears him. I wonder why the beast will not chase me into the soft light that covers me. Even as he slumbers, all evil within this place fears his very nearness. I do not fear him; I never could. He is my refuge.

The silence is broken by the scream of another. I glance at the woods beyond to faintly make out the image of the beast devouring one who could not make it to the protective solitude of this gracious domain. The beast howls in triumph, and I weep. Tears fall from my quivering chin onto the feet of the sleeping savior: this Endymion dreamer that captivates me even in slumber. I know that Death still wants me. Baal can still see me, and waits with his beast to consume me if I dare step away from this haven.

It is now that I truly notice the castle in its run-down glory. Wrought iron gates are black and apocalyptic, harboring the castle deep within their arms. The castle itself is a sturdy marble of the darkest onyx hue; its somber towers and upper chambers reach solemnly toward a sky with no heaven. (Perhaps this is Heaven....) They hold the clouds in their place with ease and those same clouds begin to slowly shelter my mind from my memories. Try as I may, I cannot recall anything that existed before this place, where I came from, or how it was that I came to be here. I see twisted, thorny rose bushes atop the hill. They grow tall and together, their gnarled arms reaching toward those same clouds, their blossoms red as wine and black as the velvet night. In my heart, I know this is my home.

Thus, I turn my attentions back to the dreamer in his peaceful serenity. I so wish to awaken him, but I still hesitate to disturb him. I am still confused. A feeling of belonging courses through my heart, and I realize that there are so many things I would say to him if only I could. For that reason, I cannot think of which things to say first, which words would befit him, and out of my indecision, I cannot awaken him. There is an unspoken sense of his acceptance of me, and I realize that never in all my life have I felt the peace I feel at that moment. I have never been so content, so serene, so...elated. I want nothing more in my heart than to stay forever on the hill with this angelic dreamer in his Endymion slumber, sheltered from not only the beast and his master, but the storms of my own life as well. Locked away from hatred, shielded from all things grotesque and horrid in my life. Complete and total serenity.

And so, I decide at long last that I must awaken him. As I reach out to touch the sweetness of his skin, I hear a familiar voice. It is Sleep. She beckons me from the misty borders of the dream world: that realm in between life and fantasy that she alone controls. I reach out once more to touch him before I must go, but I can never attain my goal. Sleep is slowly pulling me away from him. I struggle, but know that it is futile to do so. Sleep demands with urgency that I come. With reluctance, I comply.  I allow her to tear me away from comfort, joy and love: all the things I felt in the presence of my dreamer. Inwardly I weep for the loneliness I know will grip me soon, but even deeper inside, I consider myself blessed to have known the peace and serenity that I knew in his presence, if only for a moment.

Sleep kisses my forehead. Even her smiles and soft caresses cannot chase the emptiness from me. When I look back for one last glimpse of my sleeping savior, all I see is darkness. He is gone. Confusion grips me tightly, but releases me and allows Knowledge to take hold. I open my eyes and glance all around me. The softness of the sun’s first rays are beginning to pour through the slits of my window shade. A tear slips onto my pillow, followed by an endless stream. Sleep has come and she has gone. She has crossed the obscure borders of her fantasy realm to take her place there until night comes once more. Sleep has taken leave, and with her departure, she has ended the sordid, splendid bittersweetness of my dreaming.