I have been sleeping late trying to get things done and put the kids to bed. The weather has been wonderful at night and I have had the windows open until the wee hours of the morning when the cold chill sets in too close to my bones. Last night I fell asleep around nine after the kids where asleep and was at the critical point of falling into the other realm of rest when I heard a woman's voice sternly stay "Stop it!" I don't know who she was nor do I care but I felt I understood where she was coming from. Since I have doubled the amount of children in the house I have uttered this phrase far too many times for me to count.
It was that phrase that went with me to my dream world. Offering a familiar howl into the thin night air and sending it to the four corners of the universe to be heard by all of the children in the world. I drifted off to sleep and was soon dreaming of a woman on a mountain top with a huge fire behind her. Dressed all in white she chanted in a strange language yet I knew what she was saying.
Her chant was a song for all mother's in the world. To love and guard their children. To protect them and discipline them. I watched her ritual by the fire and then the dream turned wicked.
This woman was no longer in white but in black. Her chant was no longer of love and children but of death and destruction. She was now in a cemetery surrounded by mausoleums and head stones. She held a beautiful silver sword in her hands and thrusted it up towards to moon. Her cry was that of battle and she had tears streaming down her face. Her short black hair and pale skin with black eyes showed odd angles of shadows on her face from the moonlight. Her heart was breaking and her sword demanded justice and revenge.
All around her was death all that was with her were memories. She had nothing more to give to this world. She was spent. She laid down on the footsteps of a mausoleum that had the name Alistara engraved on the front. In an instant she was nothing more then a skeleton sucked dry of all her energy.
I woke up feeling remorse for her but also feeling like her. Being sucked dry of all my energy every day. I am not used to four kids and I am thankful that my journey is coming to an end.
It was that phrase that went with me to my dream world. Offering a familiar howl into the thin night air and sending it to the four corners of the universe to be heard by all of the children in the world. I drifted off to sleep and was soon dreaming of a woman on a mountain top with a huge fire behind her. Dressed all in white she chanted in a strange language yet I knew what she was saying.
Her chant was a song for all mother's in the world. To love and guard their children. To protect them and discipline them. I watched her ritual by the fire and then the dream turned wicked.
This woman was no longer in white but in black. Her chant was no longer of love and children but of death and destruction. She was now in a cemetery surrounded by mausoleums and head stones. She held a beautiful silver sword in her hands and thrusted it up towards to moon. Her cry was that of battle and she had tears streaming down her face. Her short black hair and pale skin with black eyes showed odd angles of shadows on her face from the moonlight. Her heart was breaking and her sword demanded justice and revenge.
All around her was death all that was with her were memories. She had nothing more to give to this world. She was spent. She laid down on the footsteps of a mausoleum that had the name Alistara engraved on the front. In an instant she was nothing more then a skeleton sucked dry of all her energy.
I woke up feeling remorse for her but also feeling like her. Being sucked dry of all my energy every day. I am not used to four kids and I am thankful that my journey is coming to an end.
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