Tuesday, February 22, 2011

The Magician and Fireflies

Image found on Google Images.


On a cool, quiet night, I crept outside to meet someone. Everything seemed silent, sleeping. I could not remember who it was I was meeting or why, but it all seemed perfectly reasonable, as most dreams do.

Then, in a sort of forest clearing, I found him. A young man with dark, tanned skin and soft hair the colour of the moon; he stood wearing a long coat just slightly bluer than the evening sky. I have tried to draw him, but, though my memory of him seems so vivid, his image disappears when I try to see him more clearly. Floating around the clearing were what I thought to be fireflies, but not quite what I had seen before. They were much brighter and glowed continuously so that their tiny, insect bodies became invisible. I heard a song I knew, but the words were changed. I cannot recall them either, but I knew somehow that, if anyone else should see him, something would happen...

He spoke to me in a calm, gentle voice, though I don't know what he said. I stood closer to him and watched the strange fireflies; they casted a warm, golden glow about the clearing. It felt as though we were sitting in front of a fire inside a home, and that, at the same time, that the whole world was coldly sleeping--that only we were awake.

In the morning, I listened to the song repeatedly and sung it to myself, vainly trying to find an answer, a reason for the dream.

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