Journey to Life, through Death

Date: 9/24/2019

On a bridge, I face a shapeshifter after having long been hunted. Always I was running from it, but when I turn and run to it, I am at last able to vanquish it. Now lost, I wander a market, heading for crystal stairs and floating structures in distance. The market is sprawling. Shops sell fabrics, dried herbs and oils, weapons, incense, resins and censers, animals... On the way, I am given a short sword. I speak with a Tuareg woman selling incense, and in exchange for the sword she shows me the way to the crystal stairs. They are across from her stall, in between two others, through a plain-looking curtain. I notice how everyone’s eyes seem to slip over it without seeing. This path leads across a deep and very wide canyon. After ascending the stairs for some time, I can make out details on the other side of the chasm. I see forests & streams. They seem real, yet untouchable, like looking through a sheer cloth. I see a father with two young children (my own, it turns out) playing near a shallow stream. I need to pass through seven floating structures to cross the canyon and reach the other side, to reunite with my children. The castles appear vacant. The first is like a rusty birdhouse. Golden light penetrates the slatted walls. The second is a rough, pale stone, covered in creeping vines. All of them are different, and gradually, I become certain I can hear sounds; running feet, laughter, a whisper. I think I’m passing through the realms of spirits, but my determination to reach my children is unburdened by any magic that might otherwise bind me to this place. The structures gradually ascend and curve towards the other side of the canyon, so that I will exit at the farthest, highest western edge. The seventh structure is a modest cottage. A breath after entering, I can feel a gaze upon me over my shoulder, beckoning, urging me to turn and face it. Knowing that to look back would be a foolish error, that it would bind me there, I press on, but the exit does not draw nearer. The room appears to be shrinking, the shadows lengthening, changing, and the presence behind me is no longer beckoning but commanding, its gaze piercing. No longer the gaze of one, but of many. And as I silently push towards the door, and with great effort, cross the threshold, it feels as though I’ve fought my way out of hot, stinking mud. A squishy sucking noise can be heard as I free myself of the vacuum of the cottage. I hurry down the path into the bright woodland ahead, eager to distance myself from that perilous final trap. The breeze clears away the unseeable residue of that spirit realm. Everything feels alive. I look at the hills and woodlands sloping downward, and in the distance, I see a stream. I set off, knowing absolutely that I will reunite with my children.