chapter7--

A quick something, I'll get back to it soon

My dreams are as lucid as the dull ache in my chest, time is moving by just a few frames too quickly and the air has a soft ambient glow, the landscape is revealed as the fog rolls back. A green meadow filled with tall blades of verdant grass, a long line of trees stretched up a steep hill and seemed to ascend straight to the cloud-line. A hawk circles low and I taste the sweet air with my tounge.

 

Peru.

 

The fence that stands before me, red painted wood posts, wrapped with a stretched line of rusted barbed-wire is familiar in a strange deja-yu way. Memories of something that happened a few years ago, a plane ticket for a private Sessna flight over the massive plauteu that held the Nazca lines, somebody taking a pot shot at the ultra light plane, lots of screams and the crashing of the fragile bird in this very meadow.

 

Looking up I notice there is no sun in the sky, only the glowing blue of the dreamscape, no crashing planes either. I walk through the barb wire and begin the fast walk towards the line of trees, high oaks that refuse to sway in the gentle wind.

 

 The pain in my chest subsides and the sky flickers like a stained movie reel, somebody has done something to my body, probably pain killers of some sort. I stop at the first of the perpendicular trees and marvel at the thousands of small designs that are carved into the gnarled bark. Shaking fingers trace the sigil and my lips move as I catch myself muttering a mix of Latin and Spanish under my breath, I read the circles and squiggles, the little pictographs that wrap around one another in a long dance.

 

My mind absorbs the information but for now I can't make any sense of the language, reading has always been difficult in dreams. Hand lingering slightly on a curved sigil of a humming bird I begin to walk past the trees, taking care not to trip on the large rocks that are placed at the edge of the meadow.