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The Book of Dreams iv-VIII

THE BOOK OF JUDGES:    THE TALE OF Laurance (and Norah):

 Laurance found himself walking out of the darkness of arching, woven tree branches. Leaving the tunnel he came out into a wide snow-covered, woodland glade.  A light snow flurry was still falling.  Yet, amid the cascading flakes was a growing array of butterflies even as the white trees were slowly turning green before his eyes.  He began holding his nose even as he continued to walk to the middle of the clearing.  He could the snow crunching beneath his feet.
 Behind him, a girl’s voice called out, “What are you doing?”
 Turning about, he saw an ornately carved gazebo in the middle of the now snowless, green woods.  With a nasal voice he answered the young woman in her teens, “Pinching my nose to see if I can breathe or not.”  
 “Can you,” she asked while pulling the hood back of her white cloak.
 “Hum… yes.  Ha, yep I’m dreaming.  It’s one of those ‘reality checks’ in Lucid dreaming I read about,” he laughed knowing she wouldn’t understand.
 “Lucid - never mind; it’s things like that which I find so interesting and different about you.”  The teenager adjusted a leather strap that went was across her chest, “You were going to ask me something last time?”
 Going up the three steps and taking a seat across from her he asked, “So, Miriam what are you carrying a tube?”
 Bringing the case about and setting it across her lap, she answered, “It is a scroll and a very old one.  It’s a precious thing in our family.”
 With raised brows, the older man looked intrigued, “How interesting.  What is it about, if I may ask?”
 With her fingers she carefully slid a polished, pine wood peg through a smaller strap and began to remove the round cap from off the top of the arrow-quiver like device, “It’s our family history.”
 Laurance leaned forward watching the red-headed young woman slowly remove a tight roll of yellowish-hide from the container, “Sounds fascinating.”
 After she untied two long, wrap-around leather stripes, Miriam held it up and began unrolling the scroll for him to view the tattooed lettering, “This is the Irreplaceable Scroll of all my Mothers.”
 His eyes darted about soaking up the details and texture of the material, saying, “It - it looks incredible; like - skin, what kind? Deer, sheep?”
 In a solemn tone, she declared, “It’s made from the skin of all my mothers, which is why it’s called irreplaceable and is very precious.”
He quickly sat back on the gazebo’s wooden seat, “Sounds very morbid!”
 “Mor-bid,” She didn’t understand the word?
 “Disturbing interest in death,” he informed.
 Rolling it back up, Miriam looked a little disappointed and hurt, “We all die, Laurance.  Don’t you think your wife Norah wants to be remembered?  Don’t you want your daughter Cora to remember who you were?  Your stories and the heroic things you did in life?”
 “Yes, of course, but - but we don’t keep or carry the skin of our dead with us. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
 “I am not the one offended.  Do you not even honor your dead loved ones or the rulers of your tribe,” she looked perplexed and interested.
 “I suppose things work differently where I’m from.  In this time period - “
 She gave him a beautiful broad smile, “There is no time here in Krilleeos.  All we have is this brief experience because this too shall pass and soon be forgotten.  I’m happy to see you again.”
 “Which is why you keep the tattooed skin of your people, I get it.  I’m  thrilled seeing you to; you’ve grown up so fast, Miriam.”
 “Our mothers are very precious to us and it’s how we count the years of remembrance and the things worth holding on to.”  Miriam smiled, watching the snow beginning to flurry again as butterflies appeared from them on the railing about the gazebo.  “I was wondering where you were,” she said to one of the butterflies that turned into a hummer bird and sat on the man’s shoulder.
 “Thank you for seeing me. I guess it’s time for you to die now,” he said and the light snow suddenly gave way to a torrential downpour of rain, and they were both standing on a deserted beach watching a ship off in the distance.  
 “Yes, I’m sorry,” she replied while wading out into the crashing waves.
 The man woke up crying and very distraught as his bewildered wife tried to calm him back to his reality.



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