"Those with the greatest awareness have the greatest nightmares."

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

(Before dawn, Monday January 4th)
(Nowhere)

.............................................
I had hidden in the old graveyard by the church, but they found me.  They always find me.  I fight against the hands grasping my arms, fight against them dragging me into the church, fight knowing it is useless, for I must face the charges...

I am hauled up in front of them, in front of all of them.  Those I once cared for, those I loved and called 'friend'.   I keep my head down as the accusations are hurled... whore, sinner, witch, demon, destroyer...  I stand there, head bowed as they scream out my crimes, even though I did not commit them.  I do not speak, do not plead for my life.  Even when something is hurled and strikes me in the face, I do not move, do not give them the satisfaction.  

I hear them debate, hear them decide my fate.  Death is certain, but how?  Burning, hanging, drowning, stoning... which shall it be for the devil's bride?  I wait, wait for the decision to come down, wait for the inevitable...

But there is commotion.  There is yelling and screaming and thunder and bright flashes of lightning splitting the sky outside the windows.  I smile, just a little.  My death is not in your hands.  It is not yours to give, and he will not give it up so readily.  In the maelstrom, the doors are blown open, and in that moment of confusion, I break from startled hands and run. 

Out, out into the blackred night, out into the wind and the noise.  The townsfolk are not far behind, and I turn onto Silk...  

Horses, wild horses streaming down the road, flowing around me, hiding me, urging me on.  But I cannot run as fast, and I will be trampled in the stampede.  Still I keep running, hoping, and one stallion comes abreast of me.  Stark white with eyes as blue as the ocean, and somehow,  I get my arms around his neck, and I haul myself up and onto his back.  I hold on for dear life as the horse sprints, but something changes.  He slows down, throws his head back and trumpets a call that sounds like a laugh, eyes wild and gleaming, rears up on hind legs, and violently throws me....

I open my eyes.  The night is black, still and the heavens star filled.  Before me is a cemetery.  It is vast.  It goes on and on, stretching out as far as I can perceive.  It is an odd graveyard though, for all the graves are open, awaiting bodies.  All the markers have names, birthdates, but no death dates.  I stare in confusion, unmoving, even as the arms slip around my waist, pulling me back, close against a strong body.  His voice is roughened velvet against my ear as he welcome me, calls me pretty endearments and places a kiss against my neck.
I can't bring forth the words to ask him where we are, what is this place, for it fills me with a dread I have never known.  He knows though, he always knows.  "Why, my love, you are right where you belong.  All those graves, the graves of the world... you will help me fill them."

Then he laughs... and I scream-------

*

I wake up, still screaming, until I realize that I am not in a graveyard but in my own bed and having a dream. 

It takes quite some time for my heart to stop racing, and I never manage to get back to sleep.

(closed)

"Those with the greatest awareness have the greatest nightmares."

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

(Before dawn, Monday January 4th)
(Nowhere)

.............................................
I had hidden in the old graveyard by the church, but they found me.  They always find me.  I fight against the hands grasping my arms, fight against them dragging me into the church, fight knowing it is useless, for I must face the charges...

I am hauled up in front of them, in front of all of them.  Those I once cared for, those I loved and called 'friend'.   I keep my head down as the accusations are hurled... whore, sinner, witch, demon, destroyer...  I stand there, head bowed as they scream out my crimes, even though I did not commit them.  I do not speak, do not plead for my life.  Even when something is hurled and strikes me in the face, I do not move, do not give them the satisfaction.  

I hear them debate, hear them decide my fate.  Death is certain, but how?  Burning, hanging, drowning, stoning... which shall it be for the devil's bride?  I wait, wait for the decision to come down, wait for the inevitable...

But there is commotion.  There is yelling and screaming and thunder and bright flashes of lightning splitting the sky outside the windows.  I smile, just a little.  My death is not in your hands.  It is not yours to give, and he will not give it up so readily.  In the maelstrom, the doors are blown open, and in that moment of confusion, I break from startled hands and run. 

Out, out into the blackred night, out into the wind and the noise.  The townsfolk are not far behind, and I turn onto Silk...  

Horses, wild horses streaming down the road, flowing around me, hiding me, urging me on.  But I cannot run as fast, and I will be trampled in the stampede.  Still I keep running, hoping, and one stallion comes abreast of me.  Stark white with eyes as blue as the ocean, and somehow,  I get my arms around his neck, and I haul myself up and onto his back.  I hold on for dear life as the horse sprints, but something changes.  He slows down, throws his head back and trumpets a call that sounds like a laugh, eyes wild and gleaming, rears up on hind legs, and violently throws me....

I open my eyes.  The night is black, still and the heavens star filled.  Before me is a cemetery.  It is vast.  It goes on and on, stretching out as far as I can perceive.  It is an odd graveyard though, for all the graves are open, awaiting bodies.  All the markers have names, birthdates, but no death dates.  I stare in confusion, unmoving, even as the arms slip around my waist, pulling me back, close against a strong body.  His voice is roughened velvet against my ear as he welcome me, calls me pretty endearments and places a kiss against my neck.
I can't bring forth the words to ask him where we are, what is this place, for it fills me with a dread I have never known.  He knows though, he always knows.  "Why, my love, you are right where you belong.  All those graves, the graves of the world... you will help me fill them."

Then he laughs... and I scream-------

*

I wake up, still screaming, until I realize that I am not in a graveyard but in my own bed and having a dream. 

It takes quite some time for my heart to stop racing, and I never manage to get back to sleep.

(closed)