Date: 7/8/2016
By Boygan
I was walking with a group in a dark desert. We were walking to a set of celebrations. It was cold darkness that the moon colored. We walked, camped, packed, talked and moved on for a while. When we reached the house of the celebrations they were in white plantation-like southern homes. They seemed an oasis in the desert. We walked in and there was none of the awkward silence wherein nobody knows each other. We talked as if brothers and sisters and I thought in my dream "This must be America". As we talked I was given drinks by the boys with glasses. The wedding then died down and everybody spread outside. Outside there was a shore whose distance was lined with colossal stones. They jutted and punctuated the sun's light and the area had a constancy of shade. The family was a fisher family and I sat with them on the shore. We cuff'd our pants and lay our feet within the wavelaps. I talked and hugged with those that I met and then wandered around the plantation. There were dark collonades that lead to other oasis-like zones. Their biomes were wholly different, though, and the first one I walked to was pined like the north. It was an old bookstore and I went inside and looked at their poetry. The place smelled of heavy wood and damask and carpeting -- it was lined with pillars. A beautiful girl sat next to me while I red an old greek manuscript. I could smell her hair from far away and we talked, each next eachother leaning on a pillar. As we talked we both nuzzled heads and hands as if by some magnetism. My heart never filled with such warmth as with that knowing anonymous mutuality. I left the bookstore after buying many books; after talking to the older cashier man. Outside the caravan was waiting for me. I smilled and moved on ahead. We entered the orangelit desert -- the expanse was covered in dry greenery and sun's orange disk. The sun released a shine that covered wholly all of the desert. I walked next to Lillian and her hair smelled of sunstrands and garlands. She was a girl from Portland. I thought on how I loved her still. We walked for a long time and our clothes swayed. All of us were dressed as dervishes. We reached an encampent that looked as if a festival had just ended. I changed clothes with the festival attendants after spending a long day with them. They told us how their encampent was being besieged and that we should help them. We did, donned muskets, and brought forth a good number of people from our crew. The war had a long time of waiting and I talked with the other young fighting boys. They told me their aspirations and invited me into their rooms. I loved the boys, but they died early on in the battles (even past dreams I think of these: the almost-silent loving aparitions). Following the battle we moved on into the ever-gleaming orange of the horizon. I did not now where our destination was, but I followed, always, with the team line.