124. The blue rose, 2
This was a dream. I was aware of it. This was a nightmare reaching its end.
A mysterious blend of what once was and what was to come. An uncanny but lucid foresight of the path ahead of me for the years to come.
There is one moment in my past life I have a vivid recollection of. There are many I remember in details, but one on particular is especially sweet to me.
I was reunited with my beloved sister, and we were back home after a long time away.
It was our first night back at home. Spring. No windows yet as the house was still being rebuilt.
We were camping truly, in a construction site of our manor to be reborn.
There was a happiness, a bliss this quiet morning, it’s difficult to name.
All I can say is this morning marked me as one of the happiest moments of my life. One of these moments you wish would last much longer, and return with the same intensity later.
It’s now a past long, long gone. I feel nostalgic about that bliss I will never enjoy again.
My body is numb, and I don’t wish to wake up just yet.
Ahead are hardships I don’t want to face. A land with monsters roaming free.
A land where daiûas like her walk amongst mortals. A land mostly devoid of humanity to support modern life.
I remember another blissful time I want to reminisce, though it’s more blurry.
I was but a child back then. My sweet father was there, and I sat beside him in his study.
The man tall as a giant to my eyes at the time, was reading me a bed time story with a mesmerizing voice.
My father was opening my imagination to the wonders of a land where djinns tricked the travellers for good or bad luck.
A land, unnamed, unspoken, of wonders, adventures, mysteries, challenges and faeries. The land of fantasy and childhood tales.
The world you travel to in dreams, and abandon as you grow older. I didn’t want to... I never wanted to...
Illusions, creations, art, everything making the reality a little wider, and our lives a little more than just survival to multiply.
All these gates to open to unspoken, unimagined wonders.
Like visiting a very foreign country with different culture, fantastic tales and fantasy stories were fields of new things to discover and enjoy, as the greatest pleasure of all.
Discovering, experiencing a different reality. Exploring the unknown, its wonders, its sorrow, its landscapes, its culture.
Learning its dangers, its threats, its customs, its magnificence, its poetry and savagery.
Learn from the bad, enjoy the good.
Enjoy this non-physical growth of you in these immaterial lands of nutrients.
Spread your inner self over wider spaces hidden in reality within your little skull. Tackle the natural philosophies of every kind.
I can’t name that sensation properly. Its experience moulded me, me, as I was a young child. Words, written or spoken, held the insane power to bring you to different worlds, and make you experience something so much wider, so thrilling, so amazing.
I was grasping what infinity could be and I loved it, because space, this space, was overflowing with everything possible. Everything that could be.
Every shape and colours of flowers imaginable in the trees of the Sumerian cities, real or phantasmagorical.
The unending oceans of the odysseys that could be.
My father was a writer. He created worlds. And I could enjoy the magical privilege of travelling into them with him, to witness stories that would bring me the best of sleeps.
Stories of adventures, of discoveries, of mysteries, of love, of war, of hate and friendship.
All the colours of what it meant and could be to be human, from birth, laughs and death. And at the middle of it all, as the key to unlock the most whimsical encounters and events, was the mythical figure of the daiûa. The tanriça, the daemon, the djinn.
Every culture in the world has its own name for their kind. For our family, it was Daiûa.
They wore the two masks of comedy and tragedy as their faces.
They would bring sorrow or laughs, random magical gifts or dreadful curses.
They would open wider doors, even further into the world of fantasy.
Stories were caressing infinity, making me enjoy and grasp this concept of endlessness beyond yourself. Different worlds.
Daiûas were in their essence and appearances, opening doors beyond what reality could offer to me.
When magic and other beings could change everything you know about reality itself.
My mind was losing grasp at the wideness of this universe slightly opened to me. My tiny mind exploded. I was ecstatic, realising the sheer and realistic scope of all there was further, that we could travel beyond a world that was already pretty infinite.
I lost grasp, my mind went wild and imagination blanked, though with happiness to dive in the clear sky of the universe.
Heavens, stars, my young being was pulled into the skies like in my nightmares, only with a smile, to travel way beyond, sometimes holding the hand of a random daiûa my father spoke of, and then! Then... I would fall asleep.
My consciousness would fade, and return to me later.
All the travelled land and space would shrink back, every door to other realities and worlds shut themselves back, until all that was left was the hand of my father closing the book with a smile. I would be asleep, having forgotten all about the tale and my reality.
~
In a way, I realised that something out of my memories, and dreams, had become full blown reality.
More than my sister’s blue rose in her dreams, I’ve met a daiûa in what reality has become.
It was like opening the doors of a jail for a part of my mind. Some part of my mind, of my child self, just flew away in this new world, just opened and offered to us.
What’s to come will be wider than I could ever imagine. Though that isn’t saying much, because I’m not talented at imagining things. But like life itself, it will be blissful at times and certainly tragic and painful at others.
All I can expect is that things I could or would never expect to come, might very well now happen. An enchanting and terrifying thought at the same time.
As long as I live on this new world, that will nonetheless be the only true law of nature to me.
Chaos. Chances. Fantasy. Tragedy and comedy hand in hand. Daiûas stealing my body and my soul, or offering me naively flowers they found.
The only question that will remind in my mind as I wake up will be wondering about what will happen...
So... What happens next?
~
