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She moves like a cold breath in the air
Of last night's dreams, I remember most vividly the plot where an eclipse turned the moon silver and its light could be caught in an earthenware dish, turning it to a mirror and then to silver plate. Various factions were jockeying to be in the right place at the right hour of night, not all of them human; I don't even think it was our world. There was royalty in the faction I was mixed up with, less a lost prince or a returning king than a great-grandnephew I'd known at the university I didn't study at, here. It wasn't Faerie, although I recognized that I would have characterized them that way if I hadn't known better. We ended up on a hill surrounded by parked cars, some of which were rusting; we'd negotiated some ridiculous situations to get there, but I have only vague memories now of arguments and running down hallways and something about a tour bus, which I very strongly believe wasn't ours. The moon was impossibly huge and mazelike in the sky, like a rope knot of twisted silver. I watched the light from somewhere else wash across it like fire through a reflection in a darkened window, until it was white-hot and heavy as metal in a foundry. And the young man who wasn't a prince of anywhere held out the dish and there was no thundering pour of energy, no industrial light effects; it brightened in his hand until the light began to fade. Like a piece of theater, that simple and that symbolic. The moon was still too big for the sky, but it looked like a drawing on parchment rather than some planet-sized sculpture half wedged into starry space. And then something came swimming across the air between the moon and us. It looked most like a nudibranch, a little, rippling slip of bright color with soft horns and tentacles and a mineral dryness to its skin: azurite blue with dusty red outcroppings. By the time it reached us it was a person, although not even the same kind as the nonhuman people I was already with. She wasn't an alien any more than they were fairies. (She wanted to be called Deirdre. She wasn't retelling anything; the name was as arbitrary as calling her her.) She looked more ordinary than any of them and that was how we knew, whatever she was, it was stranger than we could imagine.
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There were a lot of politics I can't remember!
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I slept nearly nine hours last night for the first time in weeks. It makes an immediate, concrete difference in the way my brain works.
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How beautiful.
I watched the light from somewhere else --fills me with a wild feeling. Where? Here it would be just the sun, but there that light could come from, I don't know, singing of newly hatched galactic fish, maybe.
It looked most like a nudibranch Yes. This feels right. I approve of your dream.
I am going to draw your nudibranch girl because I have a sense of her.
--And to return to the beginning of your post for a moment:
where an eclipse turned the moon silver and its light could be caught in an earthenware dish
my mind raced ahead of your actual words there and intuited shatter an earthenware dish, but quickly I saw that that was wrong. But if it could shatter :-( A weapon instead of the lovely thing it was, in your dream.
... and that possibility makes me think about the Kate Bush song you put me onto, about music as a weapon, and that reminds me that in my hazy waking late at night or early in the morning, I heard a BBC story about Kate Bush? And they said that "Wuthering Heights" was first sung by a man? And then by Kate Bush? Could I have dreamed this? ... Now I need to check.
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You know, it didn't, in the dream, but you should write something where it does. I love the idea of shoals of nebulae.
I am going to draw your nudibranch girl because I have a sense of her.
Oh, wonderful. I look forward very much!
and that reminds me that in my hazy waking late at night or early in the morning, I heard a BBC story about Kate Bush? And they said that "Wuthering Heights" was first sung by a man? And then by Kate Bush? Could I have dreamed this? ... Now I need to check.
Please do! The only male version I've ever heard was the—much later—Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain.
azure and dusty red
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Thank you!
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