The night is cold and quiet, sleep awaits us for only then can we roam free in our dreams. We may travel far and visit many stories, yet we must be back before the first light appears on the horizon. Our dreams are places for us to visit, to reflect, to learn new lessons or even to overcome fear.
I often think that the veil opens so that the ones that have crossed over may tell us their stories lest they be forgotten. Many are the dreams where answers come to questions that were left unanswered. They sleep there, the questions, and only awaken when the night crawls across the land and the mist starts to swirl becoming thicker like a fog coming off the sea.
In our dreams, we must walk down hallways with many doors. We are afraid to choose which one to open as some doors hold our darkest fears and yet answers live where courage walks. We must be bold and fearless in our quest for answers as hesitation is our nemesis often dark like midnight ink.
We find ourselves on a sandy beach with gentle waves, a passed love one waving in the distance bringing a key that will unlock the gates of ploutonion the entrance to the underworld. We must walk without fear and pay the gatekeeper well so that he will remember us when we return before the coming dawn. The forest is dark, and crows fill the trees waiting for us to falter or show fear.
In the distance, there is a door old when Cain wandered the earth outcast for his transgressions. The door is built from the wood taken from the tree of life and its beauty is powerful giving us pause before the key turns. The door shimmers and is engulfed in light, softly a song is being sung in the distance, so full of beauty that we walk without fear toward the ever-brightening light and the enticing melody of the song.
We hear the songbirds in the distance awakening to the new day and the passing of the night. We know that we must hurry now toward the coming dawn and as we run down the path the dreams again swirl and become a misty fog. We know that the night travels have ended, and we awaken ourselves to a new day.
Point Of View
Dreams are made from the night, sometimes frightening often sweet and filled with cherished memories. We must never fear the night for without the night there can be no dreams.
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