I had a strange dream and thought of sharing it:
In this dream, I was reading about a young girl who was on trial for witchcraft. There was a fine line between the reading of and the witnessing of this trail; because the dream did seem to come alive and the girl did spring between the pages to stand before my eyes. Perhaps, it’s my current imagination that is shaping my dream, and embellishing on this lost reality.
She was on trial for raising the dead— she lived by a graveyard, which made the dead quite accessible to her. The judge was faceless; he merely had a voice that admonished the young girl.
She was a dressed in white, curly hair tossed about her shoulders, exuding supernatural confidence as she spoke. She did not try to deny this accusation, but rather to justify it, and it is her justification that I found most intriguing. She responded that she only wanted to play with them, and that by raising the dead someone in the future will raise her from the dead.
Her innocent rejoinder got me thinking. There was something about her desire for immortality that struck a chord within me. Perhaps it is I who has an unconscious drive for immortality that has yet to surface fully, or it may be a romantic notion that all humans desire. If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s my mortality; yet, a part of me seems to want to romanticize eternity—that the sun will continue to rise and set beyond the pale sky, forlorn mountains, for a time that knows no end. But my words will end, and maybe I want to leave a mark, or a word, even after the sunsets, and the evening becomes my shroud.
Maybe I'm just uncomfortable with the looming implications of death. Or, it was just a dream, and nothing else.