LOST IN A WORLD OF DREAMS
By Stefan Posthuma
A story inspired by the heavy fog that surrounded my flat one
lost Autumn weekend. Also, the legendary kingdom of Avalon comes
to mind...
That morning the strange light coming through my bedroom drapes
revealed to me the fact that the fog had come at night. I opened
the curtains and beheld the sight that I love so much, the fog
lying over the land like a thick blanket, lazily swirling in the
soft breeze. It was powerful that day, lying in thick layers,
shutting out the sun that was already bleak in late Autumn.
Yes, Autumn. It was already fading into Winter, the trees had
shed all but a few leaves, forming thick layers of dead leaves on
the ground, preparing it for the coming spring, to provide
nutrition for life that was to spawn from it after Winter has
gone. The dazzling colours were muted by the mists, like a faded
painting of old. Some of the leaves that still clung to the
branches stirred in the breeze, and one by one they would submit
and fall to the ground, disappearing into the haze, swallowed by
the fog.
I kept the torch next to my door on all day, its light casting a
hazy glow on the trees outside my window, making them look like
gnarled giants, looming shadows in a world of mystery.
During that day, I would sometimes stand in front of the window
and gaze into the mists, wondering what lay beyond the veil of
shadows and whispering sounds that were carried from far through
the fogs. I went through the day dreaming, the furnace alive with
burning logs so I felt warm and secure inside my house while the
fog rested upon it.
In the afternoon, I felt it for the first time. I looked up from
the book of magick I was reading and walked over to the window,
the smoke of the incense swirling around my form. I stared out
the window and into the woods that lay beyond, shrouded by the
mists. The feeling was strange and eerie, like there was
something inside the woods, concealed by the trees and the heavy
mists, that was beckoning me to come, almost to join it in its
unspoken purpose. For a long time I stood there, motionless,
staring, waiting. The cloaked and huddled forms of travellers
passed in the distance, mere shadows on the trail that wound
itself past my little cottage, hurrying towards their
destinations, eager to free themselves from the grip that the fog
seemed to have on them.
The day passed unnoticed, like time slipped away noiselessly
into the fog, and in the evening it became even darker. The air
that was laden with moisture all day finally became satiated and
a slow, lazy drizzle began to fall. Soon the windows were
streaked with water, blurring the visions from the outside. I was
preparing a beef and vegetable stew when I felt it again,
stronger this time. I dropped the wooden spoon in the pot and
quickly walked over to the window and looked out, expectantly,
eager to see what was so tempting, to discover the source of
these strange beckonings. But nothing was revealed to me, the
trees were the same, black forms standing there in silent
resignation. The little clearing in front of my house was empty,
the torchlight glistening off the small table I used to sit at
during the warmer times of summer. But I felt it still and I
wheeled around, went for the door and ran outside, stopping in
the middle of the clearing, looking around.
Then I saw it, a faint movement just beyond the line of the
trees, a hint of long, black hair that blended into the darkness,
seemed to float in the mists. It was there only for a split
second, and then it was gone. I started after it, but I was
already beginning to get cold and I could feel the dampness
starting to creep into my clothes. So I turned around and went
back in the house, feeling foolish, like I missed something
important.
Back inside the house I sat down in the large stuffed chair next
to the fire and picked up my book again. But the words meant
nothing to me, I could only think of the apparition I just saw, a
presence in the woods around my house. Curiosity haunted my mind,
what could it be that lived in these mists? Why had it come to me
and what was I to do with it? The magick had long gone from the
lands and I quickly dismissed the strange thoughts that welled up
in me. It was probably nothing, visions induced by the
fascination and perhaps even silent fears I had for this fog. I
should give it a rest, and divert my attention to the things
that mattered.
I had devoted my live to the study of the history of the lands,
a task that was both huge and troublesome as much had happened in
the past. I would often travel to one of the large cities and
spend time in the libraries there, reading the books of old, the
chronicles of the ancient kings, I wanted to know how the land
turned out to be what it was today. Sometimes, my questions were
left unanswered and I had to go out by myself, to find the
answers. I had traveled a lot, and my knowledge was respected
amongst the wise that ruled the courts of the kings. Sometimes
they would come to me and ask my advice, to ask my opinion on
things that were not well known amongst them.
Some months ago I stumbled upon a small collection of books
hidden in the Shadow Moors a few days south of here. Local
legends and stories told of them and I finally decided to seek
them out and succeeded. The quest was not easy since the moors
were hardly ever travelled. There was only one guide available
and I had to be extremely persuasive to get him to lead me across
the swamps and desolate plains that form the Shadow Moors.
The books were books of magick, whose purpose was not yet known
to me. I always took great care when it came to this kind of
thing, because I knew there was a lot of dormant magick hidden in
these lands. True, only very few people possessed magick and they
used it with great care. They dwelled in the old lands far beyond
the borders known to most people because they knew they didn't
fit in here. I had visited one of them a long time ago and she
taught me how to read books of magick, how to interpret their
meaning and how to reveal their purpose. But she also warned me
that magick was nothing to play with, it was not there to be used
by those that were ignorant and unworthy for the powers of magick
were almost unlimited, enough to destroy any mortal man if not
used correctly.
The food and wine I had with my dinner made me drowsy, and soon
I felt myself slipping away, thoughts scattering, sleep taking
over my mind. But I wanted to finish a particularly interesting
part of the the book, so I did not go to bed yet, and I defied
the sleep that was trying so hard to claim me.
Then suddenly, I found myself standing at the window, staring
outside again. The torch had almost died, its remains faintly
glowing, casting a soft red haze in the mists that coiled
endlessly around the house. I felt it again, this time the urge
to go outside was uncontrollable and I quickly fetched my thick
winter cloak and a lantern from the cupboard in the little
hallway of my house.
Wrapped in my cloak I went outside, and started down the trail
that led towards a larger path that wound itself south through
the Barren Hills, and into the Shadow Moors. A few moments passed
and already I found myself completely surrounded by the peristent
fog. My lantern wasn't of much use, its light, normally enough to
light most of the trail before me and the trees around, now
barely enabled me to see the ground. The light coming from it
seemed to be absorbed by the white veil that was draped over the
land. When I passed the tree line, my desorientation became
complete, and I concentrated on following the path. Where I was
going, I did not know, nor did I know why I was doing it. But I
walked with a silent determination, something or somebody was
guiding me towards my obscure goal.
Sometimes as I glanced around and saw the ghastly shadows of
trees, I could hear the dripping sounds all around me. The mists
condensated on the leaves and droplets of water fell down,
pattering on other leaves or the ground below. A steady downpour
streamed down on my cloaked figure and I was glad I was wearing
my cloak, that the smith at the village made waterproof just a
couple of days ago using animal fats. The sound was almost
hypnotising, and combined with the eldritch glow of the lantern
on the wet branches that loomed out of the mists in front of me,
it completed the illusion of wandering through a world of dreams,
a shadow-filled reign of haunting shadows and twisted images of
leaveless trees frozen in the endless fog.
Then I saw it, a huddled form a bit further down the path,
probably a man, standing there, watching me. I froze and strained
my eyes trying to make out what it was exactly. Cautiously, I
approached and a faint smile formed on my lips when I discovered
that it was but a gnarled tree stump, its surface slick with
green mosses. It was rotten to its core, and a large piece came
right off as I as I tentatively pulled at it. My mind, tired by
the constant stream of hazy images thrown at it was getting
confused and I started seeing things. I squatted down next to the
stump and rested a while, trying to straighten out my thoughts.
I nearly dozed off when I was startled by the distant cry of a
forest animal, a cry sounding muffled and twisted by the fog. I
straightened myself and continued down the trail.
I don't know how long I walked there, following the trail that
coiled through the woods. The familiar trail that I had travelled
so much, I knew every landmark from the Kings Oak (legends have
it that one of the old Kings was slain there and in the same
spot, a mighty oak had sprouted from the earth, it had been there
as long as people could remember) to the Silver Spring Falls. But
none of these I had noticed yet, I realized with a start. I
stopped and squatted again, this time to examine the trail I had
been following for the last hour or so. It was still there, but
nothing more than a faint mark on the forest ground. The trail I
knew was broader than this, and a silent fear crept into my
heart. A lot of smaller trails branched off the main trail, some
of them leading to the secluded houses of wood workers, some to
the various springs and wells to be found in these woods, and
some disappeared into the woods, leading to unknown destinations.
I knew I had wandered off onto one of these and that I would have
to be very, very careful not to get lost now. These tiny trails
were hard to follow at daytime, and hardly possible to keep onto
under these circumstances.
For a while I considered going back, trying to find the main
trail and head back home, to the warmth of my house, to find
shelter under the soft blankets of my bed. But the feeling was
still there, more a premonition of things to happen, a whisper in
my mind that I was still on the right track so I continued.
The trees around me became more dense, and more often I stumbled
into low branches, their wooden fingers grappling at my face,
scratching it. I drew my cloak tight around me, my hair wet with
the dampness of the air, but it was thick and warm enough to ward
of the chill of that cold, wet night.
After a while I heard the soft sound of water lapping against a
shore, and I stopped. I had to be a lake of some kind, or maybe
one of the many pools to be found around here. I continued
towards the source of the sounds, and soon I found myself
standing at the shore of a lake. There was no way to tell how
large it was, since the shores at all sides quickly disappeared
into the haze, but the curve of the shore around me told me that
it had to be quite large.
I searched my mind for any lakes in the vicinity, I tried to
recollect images the maps that I had collected for so long. But I
failed to find any reference to this lake, the nearest waters of
this size were to be found deep in the Shadow Moors. I stood
there for a while, trying to think of what to do next. The trail
ended here, I searched the area around me, but it seemed to run
off right into the lake. I glanced into the lantern, the stout
candle in it was burned down halfway, indicating that I had been
walking for some three hours. So what next? Turn back and go
home? I failed to see the purpose of all this. Worst still, the
feeling was gone. I no longer felt anything, and a despair came
over me. I sat down heavily and drew my knees up to my chest and
laid back against a tree. The soft sound of the waters calmed me
down a little and the everlasting fog closed around me,
cushioning my thoughts, penetrating my mind. I breathed deeply
the cold, crisp air and watched my breath blend into the haze as
I exhaled. The waters rippled subtly in the soft breeze and the
everlasting drizzle softly tapped on the hood of my cloak.
Sitting there in the soft grass I felt completely at peace,
utterly isolated in the deep woods, next to this mysterious lake.
I felt good about coming here, yet the its purpose still puzzled
me. What did the strange feeling mean and why is it gone now? It
guided me all along the strange trail and now... I must have
reached my destination! Somehow, this lake was the place where I
was guided to! But what was to happen here? I stood up, feeling
excited. Something was definately going to happen but what and
when? I sat down again, extinguished the candle of the lantern
and decided to wait.
I awoke with a start, the echoes of a strange sound sounding in
my head. I listened intently for a few moments, and heard it
again. A soft, barely audible creaking of wood somewhere around
me. The fog made it hard to pinpoint the source of the sound and
I wondered how a noise this faint managed to wake me up. I heard
it again and this time I was sure where it came from, the lake. I
stood up, quickly lit the lantern again and peered into the mists
curling above the lake. I was prepared but startled anyway when
the dark shape appeared out of the mists. For the first time I
felt frightened since I wandered out into the ethereal fog, and I
wished I brought some kind of weapon to defend myself against
what was coming out of the mists. It came steadily closer and I
was amazed to see an empty boat glide towards the shore, out of
the mists. It drifted towards the shore at a slow but steady pace
and came to a halt when it slided up the shore. Slowly, I started
towards it and had a closer look. It was an ordinary boat, made
out of wood and painted pitch black. It had no oars or other
means of moving it yet I had seen it move across the silent
waters. It was obvious what I had to do, enter the boat and try
to get to wherever it came from. Maybe there I would find the
answers to the questions that haunted my mind. Determined now, I
entered the boat, fastened the lantern to its stern and pushed
myself from the shore.
Immediately, I felt a force tugging at the boat, like an
invisible hand, pushing it towards its destination. I should have
been alarmed by what was happening, but I just laid back and
stared out into the mists, trying to see beyond the circle of
light cast by the lantern. But I saw nothing but dark waters
looming from the mists. The shore had long since disappeared when
I could heard the faint tolling of bells, carried across the
surface of the lake. But these sounds faded and after a while,
land appeared out of the fog in front of me, and I knew that I
was close to where I was meant to go. Moments later, the boat
hit the shore and I got off, glancing around me while I
unfastened the lantern. The fog seemed even more intense here and
I felt strange, like I entered a place forbidden, trotted on holy
grounds.
The ground sloped softly upwards, and after a while I reached
the top of what seemed to be a small hill. I peered into the
mists, but saw nothing of the lands that lay beyond. They were
obscured from sight by the mists, and I wondered what to do next.
I did not know these lands and I was afraid to get lost,
separated from the boat, the only link between the world I knew
and this strange, eerie place. So I sat down again, placing the
lantern in front of me and decided to wait once more, to let
whoever brought me here reveal their purpose.
The darkness and quiet around me soon affected me and I started
drifting off once more. Strange feeling haunted my mind, my
thoughts becoming a frenzy of images, excerpts of things I
experienced before, faces of people I knew. I closed my eyes and
drifted off into a world beyond this one, the realm of
dreamers. I could feel my spirit detach itself from my body and I
slowly drifted upwards, the air crystal clear, no sign of the
mists. I stared at my crouched body in wonder when I saw her.
I awoke, scrambling back at what I saw in front of me. A shape
suspended in the air just above me. It was a girl, dressed in
long flowing robes that were raven black, fading into the mists
like whisps of smoke. Her hair was thick, black and streaming
around her head, blending into the fog. Her face was stunningly
beautiful, pale white like the full moon on a cloudless night,
delicately formed. She looked at me with deep, dark eyes that
seemed to glow in the night. I sat there, spellbound and gasping
for breath as I beheld the frail form of this wondrous girl sway
softly before me in the air. The expression on her face was kind,
loving and I felt no fear for her, just curiosity and a strange
fascination for this beautiful creature. I started to speak but
she brought a finger to her lips before I could utter my
questions. She beckoned me to follow her and I stood up,
following her as she moved away from me, into the mists.
I do not know for how long I hurried after her fleeting form,
across a landscape that was completely unknown to me, like I was
venturing into a maze I never was able to get out of. Trees
appeared suddenly from the haze and I had to be careful not to
careful not to stumble over the many rocks and boulders that lay
cluttered on the hills I crossed.
Then I realized she was gone and I stopped, exhausted, confused.
What to do now? I was hopelessly lost, shadows all around me, the
world a place I felt alien in, like I was never meant to tread on
these grounds. I walked around aimlessly, not knowing what to do
next, desperate. Where had she gone? Why was I alone in these
mists that numbed the very meaning of my existence?
A sense of relief came over me when I discovered the entrance to
the temple that lay partially hidden behind the long streaming
branches of gnarled willows. I prudently ventured through the
portal, awed by the ambience that enveloped me. I approached the
altar that was in the middle of the small confinement of the
temple, partially lit by the eerie moonlight filtering through
the mists and the cracks in the ceiling of the small structure.
When I saw her again, the recollection of sweet memories of
times I once had was almost too strong to handle. Why I hadn't
recognized her earlier I did not know, but she was there now,
solid, present, the girl I had known so well, loved all these
years.
I had many questions to ask but I could not speak as I gazed
into her eyes that told me the stories of long ago, and also told
me of what befell her after our parting. The loss, the longing,
the loneliness. The pain I felt that moment was agonizing, my
eyes grew hot with tears when I remembered the nights alone,
longing for her presence, the soft breathing beside me, the pain
relieved.
Then I realized what I had to do.
A soft glimmer of metal caught my attention and I looked up, our
eyes met one more time and it looked like she beckoned me. I took
the dagger in my hand and all the fear I once had for Death was
taken away from me. With one swift stroke I sliced my left wrist,
the blade changed hands and I cut my right wrist also.
I staggered, sank to my knees and looked up into her brilliant
smile. I realised then I had done the right thing.
Blood spilled on the floor and I closed my eyes to the onrushing
darkness; I knew we would be together again, forever...
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