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dreaming details
Dec. 9th, 2006 09:57 amA city built all of wood, huge Venice-esque manses of it, along waterways with open colonades, wood wood wood. I'm a guy, a kind of magus. I have this little sphere that holds a female essence/spirit, not imprisoned, she's perfectly happy, the sphere is more or less her natural state. When around people it likes, it shows lucid and filled with ever-morphing blossoms, like a living millifiore paperweight. When needed, for attack or defence of some kind, the sphere fills with lightnings, pulsing and buzzing in my hand with dark, baleful colors.
I take the sphere with me to go to a long-deserted manse along a quiet part of waterway; this was my childhood home, but there's a malevolent spirit living there now. Putting the sphere, now in an agitated state, up against the door lock , it breaks it. Inside the place is large, palatial, empty-seeming.
There's a break and I'm no longer the magus, but me, holding a little girl close, both of us wrapped in a blanket; a couple other of our company are in the house, too; we're all staying out of the way, leaving the large wooden hall clear as the magus paces, telling story, on the railed walk ringing the open space. The little girl and I are in a closet, watching him. As the story draws to a close, the magus suddenly changes appearance, appearing briefly with dark purple hair and white-pale face, tricked out like a punk-shaman witch doctor in hardened leather mail; then he aims his staff right at us, it seems, but really at a cupboard built into the back of the closet behind us. I tumble the little girl and myself out in a roll of blanket and limbs, the magus tumbling just after us with a large ceramic head that was hiding in the cupboard. It's like a doll's head, but larger than a real adult head, with a strong-featured woman's face. As I see it lying there in the tangle of blanket and us, I know it's the malevolent spirit. The magus stomps on it with a booted foot and light explodes from it, rolling away in little pearls. We all chase after them, rolling them all back together for the magus to dispatch.
I take the sphere with me to go to a long-deserted manse along a quiet part of waterway; this was my childhood home, but there's a malevolent spirit living there now. Putting the sphere, now in an agitated state, up against the door lock , it breaks it. Inside the place is large, palatial, empty-seeming.
There's a break and I'm no longer the magus, but me, holding a little girl close, both of us wrapped in a blanket; a couple other of our company are in the house, too; we're all staying out of the way, leaving the large wooden hall clear as the magus paces, telling story, on the railed walk ringing the open space. The little girl and I are in a closet, watching him. As the story draws to a close, the magus suddenly changes appearance, appearing briefly with dark purple hair and white-pale face, tricked out like a punk-shaman witch doctor in hardened leather mail; then he aims his staff right at us, it seems, but really at a cupboard built into the back of the closet behind us. I tumble the little girl and myself out in a roll of blanket and limbs, the magus tumbling just after us with a large ceramic head that was hiding in the cupboard. It's like a doll's head, but larger than a real adult head, with a strong-featured woman's face. As I see it lying there in the tangle of blanket and us, I know it's the malevolent spirit. The magus stomps on it with a booted foot and light explodes from it, rolling away in little pearls. We all chase after them, rolling them all back together for the magus to dispatch.
