58 Ashan, 724
.
A young, partially deaf man had entered the plane of higher thought and innovation. He swam through fallacious waves akin to those of an oceans’, gradually taking physical form into a mindscape he hadn’t touched in several trials. Lately, his soul had only the strength to stand on the cusp of the connection to the wondrous world of Emea, his dreams non-lucid and bordering on the edge of absurdism. This hadn’t bode well with him as nights transgressed into others and the moon bowed its head into the horizon with the respectful call to the sun. But finally, after what felt like forever, here he was, grazing his bare toes against a pocket of sand, very much aligned with a dream he had become aware he was having.
The first thing he noticed was the dismal sky. In no way did it reflect any shade of happiness. The young man reminisced on a random day having been dug up from the very depths of his subconscious where the sky was as red as a tomato. The sun shone brilliantly and illuminated even the darkest and drab of shadows.
Something strange occurred as soon as he registered this memory and it was completely out of his control. This was not exactly a great start to his dream. The sky immediately shifted hues until it was as red as the very memory he had just imagined. The transformation was startling. It forced him to close his eyes so as not to become blind by the instantaneous radiance.
He raised his arms to cover his face before attempting to peek between the slats they made. The sky was in fact very red- just like a ruby. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have thought of that, for an enormous crimson gemstone fell from the bloody sky and landed with a soft hiss only a few metres in front of him.
Kotton was nearly blown away from the impact it made against the hard ground. What in all that was holy was happening here? He let his arms fall to his sides before making a side step in the direction of the ginormous rock. The cut of its angles almost mirrored that of a precious stone and he only knew this from the time he had spent mindlessly admiring the many beauties of earth that glittered the Little Korlasir’s walls and end caps.
His hand lingered ever so gently, hovering delicately, before being placed hesitantly over a particular part of the gem. Then, he quickly collected the intelligence to retract his curious appendage. He had no idea what would happen if he touched this paranormal-seeming rock. It had just fallen out of the sky after all. Whilst this was a dream, where anything could happen, Kotton was a little out of touch and a little deterred from exploration after having one too many refractory nightmares. Besides, he had seen far too many instances of inquisitive creatures falling prey to intrusive and nosy thoughts.
His mind shifted to the time he was in the woods with several young women. There had been a monster chasing them. Had it not been for his quick thinking, they, as well as himself, might not have found haven in the small cave he had chosen to project. He needed to keep his wits about him, especially since some of his thoughts were apparently manifesting.
The ruby posed a challenge as to the progression of his dream, though. He hadn’t recognised the walls that were built against the sides of the gem. They offered no route for trespass. How was he going to continue? This question was immediately answered with a hypothetical facepalm. He would walk of course; use his practised ability to transform his astral projection into something of similar dimension to exceed the barrier the stone had posed to him.
But what would that be? Time ticked by slowly; only a few seconds superseded his ability to deliberate before the perfect idea formed inside his mind. He had borne witness to forest squirrels and their impressive ability to latch onto tree bark and climb them into high branches. Using the image concentrated in his mind, he morphed his astral being into that of a very similar animal. Once he had done this, he wasted no time before climbing the mountainous jewel until he emerged on the other side.
His focus and energy gradually faded. His physical, humanoid body returned to him as he pleased. This was only one of the probably many obstacles before him that offered him fulfillment. He had just passed the first obstacle in his dream, but, yes, he was wisely expectant of more to come.
However, for the time being, there was nothing. It was about as barren as a meadow without flowers. And by the immortals did the sudden scene of a dead meadow pan across Kotton’s glossy vision. There was nothing- no flowers, no weeds, no signs of life whatsoever. It was eerie almost- and without any warning whatsoever, disaster struck.
Continuing with the ideology that was hindsight, Kotton would wish he never would have thought of such a thing. Out of his left peripheral was an oncoming tsunami, waves as large as mountains (and immediately mountains began to form), and out of his right peripheral was a tornado neglecting to acknowledge its wind speed as it tore up the lifeless grass in its wake. But forget the outskirts of vision- directly ahead of the young man was an emergence of lines that formed themselves across the ground. Cracking noises so loud even a deaf man could hear them began their discordant pop-pop-popping sound. It was enough to make an immortal quiver as they recognised the fact that they were no longer at the helm.
Kotton instantly closed his eyes and he did so as tightly as he could, wishing that the scene before him would extinguish as quickly as a shot of bourbon made a young man confident. And with a wisp of air, there was the absolution of nothingness.
He opened his eyes slowly. He addressed the situation. And he let out a breath of relief, but not before coming to the understanding of what it was that was happening to him. Using his enhanced ability to dreamwalk, the young man collected his astral energy into a ball and formed it so that it resembled that of an oak tree. Then, he conferred the evidence he had collected and thought, ‘this weather is about as terrible as a tropical storm’.
A mere moment went by before a conglomeration of raging winds and intense water surged against the frame of the trunk he had made himself into. He knew the risks of the experiment he was performing, but the list of pros and cons leant heavily toward the pros, especially after the routine and pattern he had been forced to pick up on. He had even considered the cons, always the overthinker, but had rationalised that being a dream, impulsive experience was of more worth than timid uncertainty. This experiment, Kotton contended, was enough to offer him the appropriate feedback he requested as to what in the world was happening to him.
Emea always had a unique way of trying to show something to its most officious patrons.
Before long there were wind speeds that accrued notches far beyond the ability of an anemometer, if there ever was one. Rain pelted against him with a ferocity that couldn’t be matched unless compared to that of a bear. The sky administered tests of dedication, unrelentingly, until finally several minutes past, and the clouds shrivelled up back into the invisible pockets of the sky.
Still, Kotton remained strong. His consideration of an oak tree, which he had known was one of the most hardy and able trees to withstand climate extremes, had won out. It had been a gamble, surely, but one he hadn’t gone into without meticulous consideration.
Still, the visages of dark smiles protested, sullying his perspective as he requisitioned the ultimate and final challenge. Hadn’t he overcome adversity? Hadn’t he persevered enough so as to warrant a blissful passage back to actuality? Perhaps he would have to be patient and wait for the clicking clock to tick and tock, and inevitably denote his time in the dream world as something worthy of resolution in respect to the waking world. He had many encounters where his physical body chose to wake before he wanted it to. Maybe that would happen again. Or maybe he would suffer to exist in a timeless loop of confusion and everlasting sleep.
Kotton shook his head, unconvinced of such a foul idea. Perhaps it was this pressure that enticed an expenditure of energy for the young man, enough so he could cast an unwavering decree for the embodiment of a ladder. It was just as tall as he was, and it had been supplanted against the narrowing sides of his dream just as they had been closed against the previous ruby's dimensions.
What filled his veins was more determination than blood as he climbed the ladder, teetering without balance only for a second until he reached the top. There was a ragged expanse of rock, but physically stable enough for him to devote trust to latching his fingers onto it. He pulled himself up and was quickly invited by a passageway.
Anxiety crept in as it always did. Multiple decisions fogged his brain, irrevocably claiming executive dysfunction as the young man froze with decision- there were many routes he could take. He could- he could not- maybe if- perhaps instead- but ultimately he concluded that he should go for it, whatever it was his heart and gut both agreed upon.
And fortunately, his choice paid itself in the price of freedom, because Kotton woke up in his bed, sweating, practically asphyxiated by his blankets and overheated by his comforter. But he was alive, and awake, and in a world that didn’t mix hypotheticals with theories. Everything was as it was and as it was expected.
Whilst someone would have taken the time to reflect on the latest and most important encounters of their lives, Kotton chose to promptly push them to the wayside, sweep them under the rug for another day and another person. Fear chose to rule any vestige of out-of-box thinking as something nonessential, at least for the time being. Rather, Kotton demonstrated a pause in general faculty to remark on his ability to combat such recent stress. His everyday life was packed with stressors. But in his dreams, he seemed empowered with miniscule prowess and minute aptitude and it garnered nothing other than magnificence.
However, the mind was… a mind of its own. The world of Idalos had a lot to learn regarding mental health and the corresponding topics associated with it. Deep down in Kotton's soul, there was a hope to solve some of those problems, even if his naturally drunken temperament went against the philosophies and responsibilities of such a principle.
The first thing he noticed was the dismal sky. In no way did it reflect any shade of happiness. The young man reminisced on a random day having been dug up from the very depths of his subconscious where the sky was as red as a tomato. The sun shone brilliantly and illuminated even the darkest and drab of shadows.
Something strange occurred as soon as he registered this memory and it was completely out of his control. This was not exactly a great start to his dream. The sky immediately shifted hues until it was as red as the very memory he had just imagined. The transformation was startling. It forced him to close his eyes so as not to become blind by the instantaneous radiance.
He raised his arms to cover his face before attempting to peek between the slats they made. The sky was in fact very red- just like a ruby. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have thought of that, for an enormous crimson gemstone fell from the bloody sky and landed with a soft hiss only a few metres in front of him.
Kotton was nearly blown away from the impact it made against the hard ground. What in all that was holy was happening here? He let his arms fall to his sides before making a side step in the direction of the ginormous rock. The cut of its angles almost mirrored that of a precious stone and he only knew this from the time he had spent mindlessly admiring the many beauties of earth that glittered the Little Korlasir’s walls and end caps.
His hand lingered ever so gently, hovering delicately, before being placed hesitantly over a particular part of the gem. Then, he quickly collected the intelligence to retract his curious appendage. He had no idea what would happen if he touched this paranormal-seeming rock. It had just fallen out of the sky after all. Whilst this was a dream, where anything could happen, Kotton was a little out of touch and a little deterred from exploration after having one too many refractory nightmares. Besides, he had seen far too many instances of inquisitive creatures falling prey to intrusive and nosy thoughts.
His mind shifted to the time he was in the woods with several young women. There had been a monster chasing them. Had it not been for his quick thinking, they, as well as himself, might not have found haven in the small cave he had chosen to project. He needed to keep his wits about him, especially since some of his thoughts were apparently manifesting.
The ruby posed a challenge as to the progression of his dream, though. He hadn’t recognised the walls that were built against the sides of the gem. They offered no route for trespass. How was he going to continue? This question was immediately answered with a hypothetical facepalm. He would walk of course; use his practised ability to transform his astral projection into something of similar dimension to exceed the barrier the stone had posed to him.
But what would that be? Time ticked by slowly; only a few seconds superseded his ability to deliberate before the perfect idea formed inside his mind. He had borne witness to forest squirrels and their impressive ability to latch onto tree bark and climb them into high branches. Using the image concentrated in his mind, he morphed his astral being into that of a very similar animal. Once he had done this, he wasted no time before climbing the mountainous jewel until he emerged on the other side.
His focus and energy gradually faded. His physical, humanoid body returned to him as he pleased. This was only one of the probably many obstacles before him that offered him fulfillment. He had just passed the first obstacle in his dream, but, yes, he was wisely expectant of more to come.
However, for the time being, there was nothing. It was about as barren as a meadow without flowers. And by the immortals did the sudden scene of a dead meadow pan across Kotton’s glossy vision. There was nothing- no flowers, no weeds, no signs of life whatsoever. It was eerie almost- and without any warning whatsoever, disaster struck.
Continuing with the ideology that was hindsight, Kotton would wish he never would have thought of such a thing. Out of his left peripheral was an oncoming tsunami, waves as large as mountains (and immediately mountains began to form), and out of his right peripheral was a tornado neglecting to acknowledge its wind speed as it tore up the lifeless grass in its wake. But forget the outskirts of vision- directly ahead of the young man was an emergence of lines that formed themselves across the ground. Cracking noises so loud even a deaf man could hear them began their discordant pop-pop-popping sound. It was enough to make an immortal quiver as they recognised the fact that they were no longer at the helm.
Kotton instantly closed his eyes and he did so as tightly as he could, wishing that the scene before him would extinguish as quickly as a shot of bourbon made a young man confident. And with a wisp of air, there was the absolution of nothingness.
He opened his eyes slowly. He addressed the situation. And he let out a breath of relief, but not before coming to the understanding of what it was that was happening to him. Using his enhanced ability to dreamwalk, the young man collected his astral energy into a ball and formed it so that it resembled that of an oak tree. Then, he conferred the evidence he had collected and thought, ‘this weather is about as terrible as a tropical storm’.
A mere moment went by before a conglomeration of raging winds and intense water surged against the frame of the trunk he had made himself into. He knew the risks of the experiment he was performing, but the list of pros and cons leant heavily toward the pros, especially after the routine and pattern he had been forced to pick up on. He had even considered the cons, always the overthinker, but had rationalised that being a dream, impulsive experience was of more worth than timid uncertainty. This experiment, Kotton contended, was enough to offer him the appropriate feedback he requested as to what in the world was happening to him.
Emea always had a unique way of trying to show something to its most officious patrons.
Before long there were wind speeds that accrued notches far beyond the ability of an anemometer, if there ever was one. Rain pelted against him with a ferocity that couldn’t be matched unless compared to that of a bear. The sky administered tests of dedication, unrelentingly, until finally several minutes past, and the clouds shrivelled up back into the invisible pockets of the sky.
Still, Kotton remained strong. His consideration of an oak tree, which he had known was one of the most hardy and able trees to withstand climate extremes, had won out. It had been a gamble, surely, but one he hadn’t gone into without meticulous consideration.
Still, the visages of dark smiles protested, sullying his perspective as he requisitioned the ultimate and final challenge. Hadn’t he overcome adversity? Hadn’t he persevered enough so as to warrant a blissful passage back to actuality? Perhaps he would have to be patient and wait for the clicking clock to tick and tock, and inevitably denote his time in the dream world as something worthy of resolution in respect to the waking world. He had many encounters where his physical body chose to wake before he wanted it to. Maybe that would happen again. Or maybe he would suffer to exist in a timeless loop of confusion and everlasting sleep.
Kotton shook his head, unconvinced of such a foul idea. Perhaps it was this pressure that enticed an expenditure of energy for the young man, enough so he could cast an unwavering decree for the embodiment of a ladder. It was just as tall as he was, and it had been supplanted against the narrowing sides of his dream just as they had been closed against the previous ruby's dimensions.
What filled his veins was more determination than blood as he climbed the ladder, teetering without balance only for a second until he reached the top. There was a ragged expanse of rock, but physically stable enough for him to devote trust to latching his fingers onto it. He pulled himself up and was quickly invited by a passageway.
Anxiety crept in as it always did. Multiple decisions fogged his brain, irrevocably claiming executive dysfunction as the young man froze with decision- there were many routes he could take. He could- he could not- maybe if- perhaps instead- but ultimately he concluded that he should go for it, whatever it was his heart and gut both agreed upon.
And fortunately, his choice paid itself in the price of freedom, because Kotton woke up in his bed, sweating, practically asphyxiated by his blankets and overheated by his comforter. But he was alive, and awake, and in a world that didn’t mix hypotheticals with theories. Everything was as it was and as it was expected.
Whilst someone would have taken the time to reflect on the latest and most important encounters of their lives, Kotton chose to promptly push them to the wayside, sweep them under the rug for another day and another person. Fear chose to rule any vestige of out-of-box thinking as something nonessential, at least for the time being. Rather, Kotton demonstrated a pause in general faculty to remark on his ability to combat such recent stress. His everyday life was packed with stressors. But in his dreams, he seemed empowered with miniscule prowess and minute aptitude and it garnered nothing other than magnificence.
However, the mind was… a mind of its own. The world of Idalos had a lot to learn regarding mental health and the corresponding topics associated with it. Deep down in Kotton's soul, there was a hope to solve some of those problems, even if his naturally drunken temperament went against the philosophies and responsibilities of such a principle.
