Lucid Dream

The Sun hasn't set yet. It never does here. And like the pupil of the waking eye of a God that never closes, it rests its lurid gaze upon me. The subtle half-light that it presents is mysterious and wicked in its own way. Hidden within it is an evil intent that, as of yet, remains incapable of harm. It covers everything. Me, you, and probably more. I do not understand it. I am certain that I never will. But I have witnessed this before. First as a small child, then as a young man. I am now witnessing it again. I am as much a part of this landscape as it is a part of me.

It is twisted deeply within me.

Beneath my feet, sun-dried grass sprouts from the earth and reaches nearly as high as my chin. I stand and look out beyond it. The air is still. There is no wind. There is no sound. Things are as they should be. I smile silently to myself as I recognize where I am and move forward. The grass crinkles before me with each erroneous step. It molds itself around my ankles and cuts into my thighs and creates a winding trail of progress as I make my way through it. I nearly fall into it more than once. This is to be expected. But I remind myself that every step must surely be deliberate. Every decision must be drenched in fate. And, as I do, my body is propelled forward in a purposeful state of excitement and hope. I do not look back. I know the rules. To do so, would be to return from where I came and suffer the death of wakefulness and Sodom and salt. I have come this far and will not quit. There is no way but forward for me now.

Beyond the fields, is a dusty plain silhouetted by plateaus and small mountaintops. Gnarled footholds and handholds, only visible to the trained eye, angle and make their way up into their rocky expanses. I have walked a great distance. My face and limbs are cut in places too numerous to mention. The grass is no longer, and for that I am partially thankful. Although the trials and scenery changes are certainly interesting, getting here has never been easy. The ground is now a distinct, radish red. Even the air has a reddish tinge to it. I am not sure if I remember it being quite this color. I transverse the distance and begin to climb. I can feel my excitement building but know I must keep it in check, unless I awake. The prize is just too great. The secret of flight has been lost to me with age, unfortunately. I am no longer a child. If only I could remember how to overcome this limitation, all this would be so much easier. To hell with it. I'll do it your way. I grit my teeth and make my way upward. I make my way up and into it. I will leap and take flight from one of those crooked peaks before the night is done, if necessary.

I am about to be reborn.