Becoming a Man in the Shadowlands: a Survivor's Story
Copyright© 2019 by Dennis Randall
Chapter 3: Dreams of Childhood
My father told me that every dream is a gift from Morpheus, the mythical god of dreams. I find that his gifts come in all flavors. Sometimes the gifts are strange and beautiful dishes of delight. Other times the dreams are bland servings and just a replay of my day.
However, after my mother’s invitation to visit her bedroom and explore her body, the gifts of Morpheus have changed. Too often, they are bitter choking nightmares, servings of fear, which leave me trembling and drenched in sweat. My mother calls them night terrors.
Every nightmare begins with a dream. This is the story of that dream.
In the beginning, the vision is always a thing of beauty and joy. It is a warm summer night and I’m walking alone in the woods behind my grandfather’s house. Overhead the full moon is the king of the sky. High in the stratosphere crowning the ruler of the night, there is a rainbow of ice crystals creating a beautiful circle of color.
Whispering pine trees start to sing and gradually a gentle tide of music rises in the glen where I stand. Moonlight covers the forest floor like mist. In the shadows of oak trees, fireflies twinkle and dart about searching for lovers. It is a mating ritual as old as time.
I walk to the center of the glen and dance beneath the rainbows of the night. Turning and spinning, I behold all the colors of darkness. There is a shining beauty at the center of each shade of light. Glorious red glitters with danger and desire while blue glows with serenity, peace, and sometimes sadness. Every hue shimmers with meaning.
Most of the time, I dance in my bedtime clothes. Sometimes I dance skyclad in the tradition of my Pagan ancestors. However, I always dance to honor the good spirits of the woodland.
As the dance continues, I find that I’m following a path leading into unexplored areas of the woods. It becomes harder and harder to hear the music. My dance begins to fumble as I miss beats and stumble. My dance no longer honors anything.
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