Love

In this breathless, lavender moment I see you and you see me, we share a yearning so strong it freezes still the world around us. Your bare feet skims across the soft green grass and as the rising cheers around us fade into a distant echo, with a flash of deep-hued purple and flying black tresses I find myself desperately crushing you against me, my left hand lifting you high off the ground, kissing you forever.

Marketplace

This is not so much a dream, but a vision I found for a while when I closed my eyes and let my mind wander on its own, seeking solace, comfort and understanding.

A large, circular, white sandstone fountain, its edges veined with aging cracks and clouds of dust that perpetually settle upon its surface. It is in the center of a much used marketplace, surrounded by wooden stalls and the distant murmur of life fading in and out of the background, filled with a beautiful, sky-blue water that lightly gurgles as the peaceful reflection of distant clouds on its face ripples outwards. The sun is a bright, constant reminder of the midday life surrounding me, reflecting off the rough, sandstone edges of this large fountain I'm standing next to. I can almost hear the sound of bells tinkling, and faintly feel the pleasure and heady joy of life beating around me with an almost tangible, undeniable vitality. Nothing has ever felt so real, yet the only thing that matters in this instant is that it is here that You meet me, the two of us standing face to face in front of this weathered, white fountain in the midst of the marketplace. My head is always bowed a little low, and Your eyes are always looking at me with patient encouragement as if You know where my next step lies, and are but waiting for the joy and pride of seeing me discover it for myself. I see you, dusty and weathered, warm and comfortable, Courage and Peace.

Anna

I stumble through the empty streets, the dark blue night sky a vast backdrop for numerous spots of angry orange-red flames. The distant fires paint a startling contrast against the calm melancholy of a silver moon that perches above me as I half-walk, half-jog closer and closer to the fires. I can feel the heat pound in the night air, a strange combination of warmth mixed in with a cool evening breeze on this autumn night that makes the skin on my face tingle and prickle. Every now and then, other people run to and fro, helping one another empty houses, carrying the sum of their lives in their arms. The one thing that strikes me most is the absolute silence in the air, a quiet that has settled in around me so peacefully if I close my eyes and forget the increasing heat I can almost imagine myself in a different world altogether.

And that’s when I first see her. She is quickly walking back the way I had come, a soft white quilted blanket draped around her from head to toe, wisps of long, black disheveled hair framing a strangely familiar face. Her house is not too far from mine, but closer to the encroaching flames. We walk together, simply and directly, and she learns that I love to cook, though not for a living. I discover she loves to dance but has never gone swing dancing. She says that she has come from the East to start a new life for herself, and with soot smudging her right cheek, she looks up at me and smiles.

Her name is Anna.

Then I wake up.

Destiny

I'm sitting in an old, gray swivel chair like the ones you'd find in a barbershop from the 40's, my fingertips brushing repeatedly against the numerous rivulets of rough, ancient, cracked leather that webs across its arms. My eyes narrow slightly from the dull brightness of the afternoon sun that filters in through rusted windows and half-drawn blinds, my ears barely hearing the cacophony of sounds that play back and forth in the thriving heart of Chinatown. Here, in this room that smells like old, heady incense soaked into the aging mahogany that paves the floor and cabinets, with the click-clack of swaying beads echoing lightly, I try to make sense of the red and gold tattoo that spirals across my left arm.

I see a phoenix and a griffin, which in turn becomes just a griffin, resplendent in brilliant golds and reds and while being a notably European creature, seems for the purpose of this dream to be a myth born of ancient Chinese lore. There's an aura of mystery and power that surrounds the art, and as I look at its picture it seems to writhe and twist its form across the length of my forearm.

Then in what seems like mere seconds, some form of shadowed enemies burst into the room and I find myself running across rooftops and alleyways, my heart pounding in my ears, the knowledge that I needed more time a mysterious but very definite, undeniable reality.

So I end up cutting off my forearm and eating it to keep its secrets from the enemy.

Eventually, I somehow end up with two additional tattoos at what seems like a much later time. Two coy-fish, red and gold intertwine around my right leg while a huge dragon runs across the length of my back. At this point my arm had grown back (like Wolverine) but the original tattoo wasn't there anymore, and I knew that I needed to get it back as fast as I could or the world was doomed. It seemed as if the fate of the world hung in the balance.

So I travel the world now, trying to find the old man who originally gave me that tattoo and complete the triad of creatures that represent power, fortune, and immortality. Somehow, with these powers I would be able to save the world.

And then I wake up, and have to go to work.