Hand Loose On The Knob

The allure of the place is not the ethereal smokiness or the frames on the wall – monuments perhaps to better times.  But it lives in the smiles of strangers - smiles tinged with sadness and the loss of what may have been.  Still, the place exists as a gathering for lost souls and dreamers. 

The dim lights, the clatter of the glass on the counter. Everything is orchestrated. Each sound, each sigh a part of some greater function. It passes us by, in a blur, the time we spend in this place.  Distant times glistening with smeared makeup, washed away in the flood of life. 

It becomes home to us dreamers, writers, lost souls and rotting corpses - a compilation of us zombies, pale-faced and absent-minded. Yet, it is here where creativity flourishes – debates abound, love is found even if for a couple of hours.  Between cocktails and sudden stares, hope become something greater than hope.

We leave this place with a bit of sadness, the type that burns inside your brain, as we become aware that outside that door, hope dissipates into smoke. Love found becomes an illusion. And for a second we hesitate, the body stifling beneath the routine of the day to day. The hand loose on the knob, not as sure anymore. Everything compels you to turn around and contemplate and dream and flirt wildly between cocktails and sudden stares.

Roaming the Halls of the Frost Dragon

For three straight nights early this month, a peculiar series of dreams captivated me in such a way that I am still reeling from its effects.  I’ve had my share of lucid dreams in the past, but frankly nothing ever this real, or shall we say, eye opening.  Dare I say, I’ve made some headway in deciphering the overall message, yet it remains as mysterious and elusive as ever.

Night 1 – 11:25 PM. I walk down a winding stairway in complete darkness, except for candles attached to the walls. At the end of the stairway, a wooden door appears and I reach out to open it.  As I walk through, the scene before me is that of a page straight out of a fantasy world. Everything around me is covered in snow – mountains, trees, hills upon hills of snow. I continue to walk and I hear cries as if a battle is brewing nearby.  The closer I get to it, the more I realize, perhaps instinctively, that trouble looms ahead.  I also realize that although everything is covered in snow and grey skies, I cannot feel cold. There in the middle of the field up ahead, it lies - a creature of unimaginable might and destruction – a Frost Dragon. The thing is stomping and munching on a group of dwarves and elves.  Bodies are strewn everywhere.  It catches me in its glance and startles towards me with great speed.  This is where things get interesting.  I find myself equipped with armor, a horned helmet and a long spear with which I attack the creature.  It tries to claw at me in vain, hurtling itself towards me with maddening speed. I feel overwhelming confidence as I spear it time and time again, until it dissipates into thin air. “Where are you Frost Dragon?”  I yell.  I would not doubt that at this point I was talking in my sleep.  Looking from one side of the field to the other, the creature is nowhere to be found. I find myself alone in the wintery landscape. I awake.

Night 2 – 10:35 PM.  I’ve been looking forward to sleep, confident that I will once again encounter the creature. It’s like I am willing myself to meet it, to ask the questions that need to be asked. I fall asleep and find myself in a desert like landscape.  I am in a house under terrible conditions, the walls are clawed, and the roof is sunk in some parts.  I am not alone. Family members abound in this house in addition to others I cannot place. Sounds of a stampede resonate in the distance and they get closer by the second.  This isn’t what startles me, but rather it is the bloodcurdling screams that accompany it. The house is suddenly invaded by these mini- dragons looking creatures with sharp claws and terrible fangs. They start decimating everyone they see. Blood everywhere. I suddenly feel that all hope is lost and my attention turns toward my children.  I huddle them and we all run as fast as we can through a back door into the sand. I awake, knowing full well that these were minions sent by the Frost Dragon.

Night 3 – 11:10 PM.  I have been mad all day due to the events of the previous night.  The creature has provoked my anger and I am ready to meet it once again and end it.  I fall asleep and walk down the familiar winding staircase.  I open the door and I find myself once again in the icy land of the Frost Dragon.  I am once again equipped with the familiar armor and spear. Trotting along I hear nothing but silence. It is so silent I can hear the snowflakes fall upon their snowy beds. I get to the field where I once battled the creature, yet nothing remains. There is nothing, no one. No other sound.  I remain there for a bit, disappointed.  The creature is long gone.  I awake.

After much deliberation, I’ve come to the conclusion that the Frost Dragon and I were always the same person. I was battling myself, seeking to learn about myself and attempting to protect loved ones in a desperate whirlwind of a dream sequence – a sequence that will go down as one of the most vivid and surreal events I’ve ever experienced. Cannot wait for the sequel.