Dream Series: Wildling

…the mountains keep calling to me… {return}

…every time my eyes shut and sleep begins its theft of me…I’m bare and left on the side of the interstate…walking right through high speed traffic —ghosting— nothing but a breeze rushing through me…car radios and conversations, accelerations and chains…cyclone and fall silent at my back…

…the mountains look straight into me, their knowledge felt in every cell of my being…their language spurs me on…speaking in colors, textures, and fragrances…their music a spirit song of forests, rocks and minerals…feathers, scales, and follicles…raindrops like gazing balls, particles of light through vapor, streams and ripples…unbalanced chimes that center…my heart beats an errant pace, of Gods & Monsters rife with abandonment and longing…they know: conceived and stolen to industry…they want me returned…

…clouds that swallow me whole…hide-and-seek me from civilization, giving me back to roots: feral and free, earthing and puncture wounds, the blood and dirt a rite…scars on full display…I don’t feel ugly and wrong, nor out of place in the unpredictability…I thrive, I know I’m some wild extension, a myth, a beast of its own making…evading capture and the hunter’s sentence…I’m a familiar and my foretold was not for keeps, they want me home…they want for their wildling…

…further in sleep…under a new moon, devoid of light…the expanse of secrets before me…Its presence made known, taking place at my side…”Escape.” “I fear they’ve broken me.” “If you leap, we’ll catch you.” “They’ve conditioned me to human fears and comforts.” “You know the ways of the ancient.” {Silence} “I have nothing to leave you.” “You’ve left traces of yourself. That’ll do for now.” {Silence} “Where do I begin…” “You are a tale being told. An open ending.” {Silence} “I already know how I’m going to die.” “And?” I smile, shedding man-made fears and Earth-given skin, and allow my soul her swan dive…

…I awaken…my eyes open, but the glorious void and the depth of phantoms, still my vision…I hear the 4am birds and stars…I hear the adventure thrumming my veins…I hear the next mountain calling my wildling name…

E.A. O'Connell