What dreams may come :-)

Song of the day: “This is it” by Michael Jackson...and Ray Charles' “Hit the Road Jack”. I know, weird combination, but what the hey. There’s no thought nor rhyme to how my brain works sometimes…if it works at all. Hah.

Okay, I had a marvellous dream so we’re going to sidetrack a bit as I tell ya about it.
Here goes:

The moons: Like sentinels they shine from their spot just a hand’s breath from the horizon. Blue gray is their misty backdrop, a pearlish pink their own color as the leaves of trees trill excitedly behind me giving me a sense of something that is about to happen. Something grand. Something important.
A northern breeze tumbles though vine and branch, purplish hues only rarely interrupted by dark green and lavender blue. This place, this world is familiar to me, and yet there is an alien quality to it that always hits me when I visit.
Bright yellow, contrasting sharply against purple and green, catches myt eye.
Amidst sunny yellow petals, pointy to the edge of sharpness, deep orange tendrils curl elegantly in the twilight breeze.
I hear a whistle, deep and resonant, coming from the beautiful pallet of color on the edge of the jungle.
Drawn towards it like a piece of metal to a magnet, I carefully pick my way through black jagged rocks, knee high, olive green grass (their stems in bloom with a fluffy pink puffs) and big-leaved under brushes.
My feet are bare, and yet the uneven soil doesn’t hurt them. So are my legs, but the stems of bush and grass alike are gentle as I make my way through them. Lithely I bounce from the clearing’s rock edge, leaving behind the long-stretching valley that lay within the mists of filmy grays. I am headed for the jungle edge, making my way closer to the deep yellow flower and the melodious whistling.
The whistle, more like divine singing to my ears, harmonizes beautifully with the orchestra of leaf and branch swaying overhead.
I reach the yellow flower in a whirlwind of fluffs, darting in the wind until I am surrounded by a misty pink, and gaze upon it’s deep center where something infinitely darker, something distinctly furry, perches upon the tendril of the football-sized core.
It is tiny, no bigger than a fist, and reminiscent of a miniature monkey, or a lemur even. It sits on its hind legs, with tiny hands curled in front of it as if in prayer.
Huge eyes (bugging almost and slightly to the sides of its head) are closed and its face is tilted upward towards the light violet sky as it sings its heart out.
It is a sorrowful song, and yet hopeful and I watch the little creature in amazement. In fact I feel awed while I listen to it sing in eloquent high notes that appear to trill higher and higher.
Thick dark lashes fan delicately on soft and wrinkled, pinkish skin. Similarly dark is the creature’s fur, which leaves only its dainty face and slender digits exposed.
The Paranty (that’s what the species is called) looks like a stunning mix of pink and ebony and is softer than angora wool.
Though previously unaware of anyone nearby, the Paranty feels my breath brush across its fur and suddenly ceases its evening chant to open its eyes and look straight at me. Huge emerald colored eyes blink up at me, the vertical slits of its pupils of a bright orange, pulsing as it brings my face into focus.
His (I know it’s a male) black button nose scrunches up and then wiggles before it opens it’s tiny mouth and flits a split tongue in my direction. I am well aware that Paranties, though harmless (even cute) looking, have in fact an extremely poisonous tooth and nature that, should they decide that you’re the enemy you’re as good as dead. But I don’t feel fear as I raise my hand invitingly and click my tongue to get it to hop up on my crooked finger.
Coquettishly he blinks his lashes at me, and then extends a miniature hand to grab hold of my thumb. Using that as leverage, he lightly jumps up from its deep orange perch (taking powdery pollen along) and settles comfortably on my hand.
Once there, the Paranty begins a cheerful chatter (it reminds me of crickets and cicadas) as I start into the jungle, smiling all the while at my companion’s cheerfulness.
A thick carpet of moss squishes beneath my toes and all around white, pink and yellow flowers peak through the purple and green foliage.
Soft rustling, quiet whispers and a pale play of moonlight sparkling like tiny diamonds on the early evening dew create a distracting whole as I gradually make my way through the closely clustered trees.
A tan colored tunic (grayish in the moonlight) covers me from neck to knees, and a small dagger is strapped to my hip. Small braids on either side of my face dangle in view every now and then, but I am not surprised at them. I have been here many times before and as I make my way deeper and deeper into the jungle, small fireflies begin to dance lightly into the air.
The Paranty is delighted by the sight, reaches into the air like a young child trying to reach its toy, but they are too fast for him.
“It’s okay,” I soothe him, petting his round little skull affectionately when he pouts at the fast little bugs. “They’re not edible anyway.” That seems to cheer the Paranty considerably, and with a high whistle it darts up my arm to settle in the folds of my hair where he can enjoy the warmth. Paranties love warmth, you see, and they love nothing more than to nestle against you.
Up ahead I can hear the sound of water running over rocks, and I slow my pace as I peer up ahead. There, over the slosh-slosh of the small spring, I can hear soft voices talk and laugh, filling the night air with good cheer.
Just a few paces farther the woods break open, showing the silvery light of the moons in all its glory in this place where water sets to light soft yellow rock. I pause on the edge of the forest, blink up at the two moons overhead--they are almost blinding--and then turn my gaze to the spring.
Fey and delicate a small group child-like figures make the beautiful night world around me disappear. In wonder I watch the elves (I know that they are that) play and laugh within the beams of moonlight. Pink puffs and yellow pollen dust swirl around them as large plumes of reed sway gently in their midst. Infinitely pure in their every appearance, from their pointy little ears to the large almond eyes, gold and amber hair and the filmy wings that flutter on their backs, they are a sight to behold.
Their clothes are a gathering of thing materials that both cling and flow, showing straps of leather and flowery decorations upon their lithe little bodies.
A couple is chasing a young looking elf in light blue, her hair shimmering like pearls in the light of the moons as she jumps from rock to rock and they vaults up the waterfall with barely a pause. Her laughter trills through the air, even as the others come in her pursuit.
I don’t know what alerted them, but one moment they are fully intent on their play and the next they freeze in place. I don’t hear anything at first, but then in the distance I can hear the rumble of something large, something strong, something infinitely dangerous.
I am not sure how I know this, since I have no memory of whatever is making the racket, but even as the elves turn towards the west, I push through the bushes and stare up at the starlit sky. Within my hair, in the juncture of my neck and shoulder, the Paranty whimpers, pulls the strands tighter around him as within the distance a brightening dot of light draws my attention.
I stumble and stare, much like the elves are, as the light becomes bigger and closer, the rumble turning into a deafening roar as the foliage around us begins to stir in earnest while the wind picks up considerably.
Something is not right. I know that even though it looks like a falling star, it isn’t, and call to the elves, who are unable to hear me over the ever-increasing roar.
Then the approaching light shifts, and beyond it I can see a rocket tremble into a vertical position. Though I have never seen one before (at least not in this dream) the rocket’s engines scream at the pull of gravity, flicker and adjust in this somewhat messy ascend right here in the midst of the unblemished jungle.
Horrified I watch it come closer, and closer still, feel the heat of the blinding exhaust fire upon my face while the elves point and scream in horror when the first treetops begin to burn.
“We have to get out of here,” I call desperately, feeling the heat become unbearable on every piece of exposed skin.
Though I doubt that they can actually hear me, the elves too begin to back away. Trees and vines sweep back and forth with the onslaught of heat and wind, wood begins to snap as the white-hot burner clears the way down.
Fire snarls to life all around as my companions and I begin to run, head into the forest in hopes of evading the unbearable heat of that engine. It is right behind us, and until we reach the edge of the delta there is no relief from it.
We tumble down the steep incline and are instantly relieved at the sudden presence of coolness when we come to an unsteady halt at the bottom of the jungle delta. Over the tops of the trees, some of them still alight with bright red fire, we can see the blunt blackness of the rocket tower high into the night air.
It is massive, a good fifty yards high, I’m sure, and more than a little forbidding in this world of color and softness.
Breathing fast, I glance around at the big-eyed elves around me. There are seven of us, me included, and we all know that the ship from space is a threat to all we hold dear.
“We must go back,” one of the elves, a silver haired male with a sharp Mohawk on his head, hisses, his small hand reaching for the small, narrow sword he carries on his back. “We must do something.”
We all agree, knowing somehow that if we do not, we are all doomed. Even the Paranty on my shoulder snarls dangerously, it’s sharp teeth chattering as it gestures angrily in the direction of the ship.

And that was around the time I woke up, much to my regret. It wasn’t a startling wake up, like usual, but a gradual one that allowed me to continue dreaming for a bit…but in such a vague state that nothing of the continuing story registered. Darn it!
So frustrating, this dreaming stuff without real endings, but at least this wasn’t as abrupt as some.

Okay, on to the business at hand…or whatever the heck you want to call my sum ups. Hah.
We’re still working on the folding table by the washing machine, but since I had to take Sally to her doctor’s appointment and then head for the city to pick up the Daewoo (it got fixed this morning) so I wasn’t actually at home until later today.

There was some distinct gardening, we turned earth for a large patch of potatoes which should go in soon, one of these days. It was actually kind of nice digging the earth up, even if the weather wasn’t all that good and clouds kept sliding in front of the sun. Since we were busy anyway, I also pulled a big load of weeds and checked the fruit trees.

Also did some more cleaning in the garden pit, sorting through pots and treys and putting it all out of the way, rather than have them lying about in the dirt. Oh, which reminds me, the first tomatoes are forming in the greenhouse. Yay! Seriously, there are maybe two or three kinds, which is definitely a good thing. Nothing like veggies from your own yard, you know. Everything is much tastier (sweeter, I guess) when it’s been grown on fresh soil.

The edit didn’t go all that fast yesterday, but the progress was a good one, considering we found several errors that could have caused some serious trouble in the future.
I should get to reading on soon, because let’s face it, I took way too long writing this dream down. *sigh*

I did some cooking, a veggie lentil paste on macaroni which worked out remarkably well, if I do say so myself. Considering my deficits I am trying to find easy and nice ways to prepare palsies, because let’s face it: they’re easy and cheap.

The Knight's tail is doing splendid now. He's finally giving his tail a rest, and today I could even have him walk around without that stupid cone...on a bad note, Touri's got an actual lump again, which appears to pain him every now and then. *sigh* It makes me incredibly sad.

Okay, that’s it. Gotta go.