Am I a man dreaming I am a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming I am a man?

[leah-pontarlier.livejournal.com]

Friday October 24th,
Near Dawn

I am part of the river and I, we, are searching for something. We roll over and under and even through everything in the riverbed. It is not here. We raise little spouts of water into the air above, and it is not there. We push and trickle into the muck below, it is not here either.  Then a wondering occurs. What are we looking for?

My eyes open and take in the darkness of my room at the house. I look down at myself in confusion. I am wearing my white nightdress and my hair is neatly braided for sleep. But...moments ago I was was back. In the River. Properly. Like I used to be, before I was sent to learn, before i was me. I frown at that, going back over the memories.

Ah. it was NOT like before, I was part of the River but I was also me. There was an us rather than only I.  Sitting up I can tell that I haven't been to the River because the nightdress is dry. but then why the memory of the River? I try to think about those memories and find they are not quite right not as solid as the other ones the proper ones. These are shallow and dart about like fish if you try to pin them down. Images and feeling rather than clear cut memories.

So. What are they? Images that are not solid and real, of things that did not happen. In some of the books I read, they talk of dreams. Dreams are things that happen inside people when they sleep. They are not real. This felt real but didn't happen. I went to bed and then I went to sleep, the usual nothingness. Then being with the River while we searched. Is this a dream? If so I don't like dreams. They make me confused.

I get up and go out to the River. I went several days ago because Pontarlier needed to know what I had learned but ever since our disagreement over making  a deal to help Karina I haven't felt comfortable there. We've gotten along better since I brought the knowledge Hermia gave me and I've been reading the books as well. But It's not like when I first was. It will probably never be like that again.

This is new though. The dream. If that's what it was. and I want to share it with Pontarlier before it disappears entirely. I can feel it going, leaving my mind already. I hurry through the darkness even as the sun changes night to day. I am in such a hurry I don't bother to take my clothes off I just plunge into the water and let it close over me.

Pontarlier washes through me and the last bits of that unsettling experience slip out and away leaving me with only the barest of memories. The shape but not substance. I can feel the River thinking about it I can feel it doing so in the corners of my head but I can't tell what it thinks of those experiences, not til it lets me. I can feel that it is disturbed by what I gave it. It doesn't like dreams any more than I do. So I am told to find out about dreams and if it is necessary that I have them. I want  to not have them but this one only made me confused becuase I didn't know what it was. if i knew it was a dream then I could deal with it. At least Pontarlier and I are in agreement. We both want to know more about dreams. It is pleased with me for having come to it as soon as I could. I miss the times it was happy with me.

I rise from the river a little reluctantly, I was happy in there for the first time in awhile. But I have things to do on land, information to find, that I can't find if I stay in the river.

[closed]

Am I a man dreaming I am a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming I am a man?

[leah-pontarlier.livejournal.com]

Friday October 24th,
Near Dawn

I am part of the river and I, we, are searching for something. We roll over and under and even through everything in the riverbed. It is not here. We raise little spouts of water into the air above, and it is not there. We push and trickle into the muck below, it is not here either.  Then a wondering occurs. What are we looking for?

My eyes open and take in the darkness of my room at the house. I look down at myself in confusion. I am wearing my white nightdress and my hair is neatly braided for sleep. But...moments ago I was was back. In the River. Properly. Like I used to be, before I was sent to learn, before i was me. I frown at that, going back over the memories.

Ah. it was NOT like before, I was part of the River but I was also me. There was an us rather than only I.  Sitting up I can tell that I haven't been to the River because the nightdress is dry. but then why the memory of the River? I try to think about those memories and find they are not quite right not as solid as the other ones the proper ones. These are shallow and dart about like fish if you try to pin them down. Images and feeling rather than clear cut memories.

So. What are they? Images that are not solid and real, of things that did not happen. In some of the books I read, they talk of dreams. Dreams are things that happen inside people when they sleep. They are not real. This felt real but didn't happen. I went to bed and then I went to sleep, the usual nothingness. Then being with the River while we searched. Is this a dream? If so I don't like dreams. They make me confused.

I get up and go out to the River. I went several days ago because Pontarlier needed to know what I had learned but ever since our disagreement over making  a deal to help Karina I haven't felt comfortable there. We've gotten along better since I brought the knowledge Hermia gave me and I've been reading the books as well. But It's not like when I first was. It will probably never be like that again.

This is new though. The dream. If that's what it was. and I want to share it with Pontarlier before it disappears entirely. I can feel it going, leaving my mind already. I hurry through the darkness even as the sun changes night to day. I am in such a hurry I don't bother to take my clothes off I just plunge into the water and let it close over me.

Pontarlier washes through me and the last bits of that unsettling experience slip out and away leaving me with only the barest of memories. The shape but not substance. I can feel the River thinking about it I can feel it doing so in the corners of my head but I can't tell what it thinks of those experiences, not til it lets me. I can feel that it is disturbed by what I gave it. It doesn't like dreams any more than I do. So I am told to find out about dreams and if it is necessary that I have them. I want  to not have them but this one only made me confused becuase I didn't know what it was. if i knew it was a dream then I could deal with it. At least Pontarlier and I are in agreement. We both want to know more about dreams. It is pleased with me for having come to it as soon as I could. I miss the times it was happy with me.

I rise from the river a little reluctantly, I was happy in there for the first time in awhile. But I have things to do on land, information to find, that I can't find if I stay in the river.

[closed]