Observations on Dreaming
Observations on Dreaming
By Frylia Wintersbreath
(4/7/98)
I began the dream as always, descending the thirty-nine steps of deeper slumber and unlocking consciousness with the silver key. The technique taught to me and the same I will teach others who seek Threshold.
Majesty and terror. Unknowable honor and depravity. You will find their echoes in this land. I held that the Dream lands, that which I now know to be Cloudsbreak, would hold deeper beauty and meanings than we can find in the awakened world, that which I call the Lucid.
On many levels this is true. I found structure and artistry unlike anything I saw prior to my descents into deeper slumber. Although, it behooves me to admit my eyes also gazed upon such things in the Lucid that I do not see here. Each facet of the great jewel contains its own beauty and magnificence. Hidden away in unconscious thought and wishful thinking.
I arrived this dream as I always do, somehow finding myself in Threshold within the common room of the house called Dreamers of Light. I have spoken with these dreamers on many occasions, particularly the rulers. Though I am not well received, as my ideas conflict fundamentally with theirs, they accept that I seek only the truth and not some form of self-glorification that seems to run rampant through the dream.
Verily I can see the lure of expedience and power. Simply collapse mares and earn the respect, or at least tolerance, of your peers. Teachers will task such individuals to gain even further in power and use of art. A travesty to these eyes I must admit.
In the lucid realm, I swore an oath to never land the first blow. I also swore to never harm an innocent. The others swore my oaths and depend on my example and leadership within the Lucid. I admit to at first believe the mares to be little more than fragments of dream randomly animate beasts that sought only collapse yet the idea, even then, repulsed me.
Mares speak. They possess, on some level, intelligence. For that I cannot bring myself to collapse them. A dreamer that is collapsed by a mare transforms into a soul sphere, an inconvenience at worst. To my knowledge no mare employs the art of Dreamstrike, death simple and permanent in both dreaming and lucid natures. On the other hand, a collapsed mare leaves behind only an essence. Though I must note that dreamers also leave an essence in addition to the Soulsphere. The absence of a maren Soulsphere troubles me. However, the fact that drain essence will forever destroy a mare essence, and cannot touch a dreamer essence troubles me more.
In this singular fact lies a terrible truth, of that I am sure. There exist inherent differences between Maren and Dreamer essence. Coupled with the fact that Mares (aside from Dark Mares it seems) do not collapse with to a soul sphere leads me to further ascribe to my theory of the 'Trinity of Facets'.
During the most recent rampages of Dark Mares, I could not establish communication. However, Valourin warned me that chaos would obtain the upper hand during that dream. So I must, for now, believe that the force of chaos exerted influence over the dark mares, as well as the dreamers, that led to the grotesques displays of violence I bore witness to. For now I will maintain faith that the dark mares will speak for two singular events.
The first, my conversation with Xegoth. As noted earlier in this journal the exchange took place within the stronghold of Sable Moon itself. Xegoth collapsed every dreamer around me save myself. We conducted an exchange of phrases and words (as outlined on those pages). He spoke aloud before the dreamer witness of Sable Moon. The second event occurred with Xegoth again. During the night chaos held sway and the dark mares attacked in force, I found Xegoth on Mt. Illapse. Though he attacked me, I managed to again say the words that we spoke before in Sable Moon. He hesitated, and did not collapse me though he also did not respond. I believe that for a moment I broke through the hold of chaos in the Dark Mare.
To my knowledge those events with Xegoth remain unique in Underlight. Whether for a lack of effort, time, or control, I cannot say. However, for this dreamer, they provide the barest hints of proof for my beliefs into the nature of Dreamers and Mares.
For now I will continue to observe, listen, and write. Speaking to those who show interest and a willingness to listen. Acceptance can come later.
(4/9/98)
I descended the thirty-nine steps of deeper slumber and unlocked conscious thought with the silver key only scant weeks ago. The first moments of my wanderings within Cloudsbreak led me to a place called Threshold Way in Edgeward Barrows. I researched the realm of Clouds break through the written word prior to my arrival and so was already familiar with some of the fundamental concepts and questions posed by the dream.
As I wandered the halls of Threshold, I listened to the dreamers. They clamored for the elusive 'experience' and it seemed to me that as a whole they accepted the collapse and destruction of mares as the reasonable end to this goal. In the waking world I will not strike that which I do not understand. Evil is too subjective a word to just label any being or creature without first learning all we can about the subject in question. This I perceived to be the fatal flaw in dealing with the mares. No one I encountered in my first visit seemed to even care, let alone, try to establish contact with or understand the mares. Simply reveling in vicious sport and the hunt.
Then my perception of the dream changed forever when I wandered into the burrows. Kudzoo stood on the precipice and I happened (mere serendipity) to overhear him mention an aim to understand the maren language. The shroud fell from my eyes and I immediately began speaking with Kudzoo about the nature, culture, and language of the mare. Soon and for days he took me aside and we walked and spoke. Looking, listening, and contemplating the nature of the dream. In singular moments I gleaned more possibilities than I suspect many newly awakened will ever discover for the rush and blind chasing of experience through violence.
We learn that for every individual there is a path to enlightenment. Thus that which leads me to enlightenment will lead no one else to enlightenment. However, the universe knows its truths and those axioms will not change and do not even take into account our beliefs, perceptions, dreams, hope, fears, or ideas. The universe (and therefore the dream) possesses truths entirely independent of us. We can hope to glean facts and through facts we make discover the possibility of truth, terrible or majestic. Though I believe that our very natures will color the perceptions of truth and fact that we may discover as such deductions are inextricably intertwined with our natures.
Since that fated meeting with Kudzoo (who insisted that he was a tormentor and not a mentor so I compromised and call him my tor-mentor) I endeavor to do the same to any dreamers I can. Offering not fact, not truth, but only possibility. To say that there is a 'perhaps' to what we do not perceive and should they desire the shroud can fall from their eyes opening new vistas or terror and majesty that most dreamers never look for, let alone see.
Kudzoo, if you are reading this response to your message you know the question I am asking you and you know why I am asking it. We walk together along our paths not the same path I know, but for now our paths fall alongside each other. I know the day will come when we must diverge; it is the nature of the journey. Yet, from what I saw in your speakings last dream as you stated the simple reasons for seeking the halo, I cannot bring myself to believe you have left your path or found a new one.
I only ask for an answer that speaks your heart.
(4/13/98)
I descended the thirty-nine steps of deeper slumber and unlocked consciousness with the silver key for what I thought to be the last time.
The dream offers a singular chance at enlightenment that cannot be attained in the Lucid world. Yet, so many, too many, dreamers ignore it carrying over their petty desires and obsessions into the Fantastic. We walk freely in this world, closer to truths about our natures and that of the universe than anywhere else. Enlightenment is a goal attainable by so many if only they could bring themselves to look, listen, and learn.
This dream I came to a realization. I felt the sting of regret and loss as I determined my task completed. All I could hope to do in the dream no longer mattered to those within the dream. Nor to myself.
All I can offer the dream is possibility and insight. I will not 'serve' the dream, whatever that means. I am not concerned with 'honor'. I care only for giving dreamers a glimpse of ideas they may never consider.
I sat outside the Earthen Sanctuary for some time. Simply considering, thinking, on the events I saw unfold around me. In the lucid realm we move quickly, trying to gather power and prepare our legacy. We do this because we know that the mortal life is ephemeral, and in the Lucid our enemies can take life from us quickly, and without thought.
The dream is different. It possesses a divine beauty that lies hidden beneath a facade of hopes, wishes, and thoughts. So few know the history of the dream and so many refuse to care enough to learn. We cannot be harmed within the dream save the lost art of Dreamstrike, which will kill us body and soul.
Yet, I see the same frantic quest for personal power. Racing through the delicate and unknowable landscape of Cloudsbreak without a thought as to the mural in the wall, or the purpose of they arts they rabidly clamor to acquire. I truly hoped better of the mortal heart. They cloister themselves away in house screaming that they are right. Ideas form the basis of violence and madness that sweep through the city as a plague rips across a nation. And for what?
The gaining of power... personal gratification in which they can strike their chests and shout how they achieved third sphere, or can collapse untold mares without a moment's thought. Or maybe collapse a defenseless dreamer for an ill perceived slight against non-nonsensical honor.
So I watched. Dreamers ran frantically rising in power as fast as possible. Not one of them possessing even the slightest inkling or even the desire to understand the nature of the dream. In that, the dream lost its beauty. Lost its specialness, becoming another mundane quartz instead of the priceless jewel I perceived when I first unlocked consciousness with the silver key.
Continuously I raised my voice to offer the unknown to try and convince a dreamer to slow down and look around them. Trying to speak to the mare hunters and warn them that if my ideas are right they will have sacrificed their souls for power. The fear such statements instill invites instant ridicule and dismissal.
Such, after a time, I felt the dream as a whole dismissed me. The politics and mechanics of the dream keeping me FOREVER locked out of something as necessary as the library. Why? Because I will not risk action without knowledge. So many dreamers preach that one must think before they act. Most of them are hypocrites striking and hunting without even considering the alternatives.
The dream no longer needed or wanted me. My words unheard, my path to enlightenment barred on all sides. My time came to a close within the dream.
I am certainly many would argue against my own hypocrisy saying that I do not need others to hear me to find my path to enlightenment. While that may prove true my path is that of a teacher. In teacher others I find and refine my own beliefs. By showing others what I have seen, I learn what they see and sometimes it is different. Thus, offering new insights into the dream.
With a heavy heart I began seeking out those that meant so much to me in the dream and suddenly seemed so distant to me. Deciding, that once I awakened I would cast aside the Silver Key never to return.
I spoke to Krynn, who teared and quietly accepted my statements and journal with dignity. My first indication that perhaps in my despondency I missed the obvious. Speaking to Soulthief soon afterwards who was far too busy to comment but mentioned the dream would be lessened by my departure. Then my teacher Kudzoo, the one dream who offered me possibilities. Though he said little, as is his way, his eyes too spoke of the pain of loss.
However, as I searched for Drakenlore, Mercucio found me. Quietly inquiring as to my intent to leave the dream. I affirmed my decision with him. In my time within the dream, I never saw stark horrification and regret as I saw within Mercucio. The same dreamer who seemed constantly dismissing whatever came his way felt the full brunt of my decision fall onto his heart. Somehow he knew that my choice was genuine. That I did not seek confirmation of my presence for I truly lost my way believe that my presence within the dream no longer mattered.
Mercucio through near tears revealed several deeply guarded secrets to me. Which I will relate in after writing these passages. He pleaded with me to stay, showing my own blindness to his situation and my own. He demonstrated my hypocrisy and fears as realization dawn and I saw that my greatest fear within the dream... isolation.
This feeling of isolation drove me to leave the dream. Watching all those around me continue on their paths while I could travel no further and that fear of being lost and forgotten struck a chord of terror within my heart. Thus I was simply fleeing back to the comfort of the Lucid realm.
My cowardice almost betrayed me. I must find a way to properly thank Mercucio, especially in light of the truths he related to me.
So for now I take up my watching and writing after recovering my journal from Krynn.
(4/20/98)
I descended the thirty-nine steps of deeper slumber and unlocked the door of consciousness with the silver key. Finding myself, once again, within the Threshold.
In the Lucid perception guides are actions and thoughts. How could it be any different within the realm of dream? A realm in which thoughts themselves shape and mold our experiences. Thus perceptions carry even more importance within the dream than any could suppose. Perhaps even fear.
Yet, there is consistency within the dream. For a place constructed of thoughts, hopes, dreams, desire, and fears there is still consistency. For each dreamer a given room superficially appears the same. All the portals are in the same place, the colors on the walls are the same and so on. How could this be? If the dream is shaped by our minds, and we all come from different places, beliefs, histories, then how could we possibly perceive the dream with such consistency?
It would appear that the first Dreamwrights exerted such control over the dream as to build forth its nature and stabilize the chaos no matter the perceptions of the dreamer. A dream formed by THEIR vision of right and proper. A reality imposed upon the newly awakened who have no choice but to exist in a world created for them. This then extends into dogma that is taught blindly and without consideration of alternate possibilities. Not alternate beliefs, but just possibilities. Such discussions become off limits and causes for declaring a dreamer as 'collapse on sight', as if such a threat held any merit.
Within the Lucidity of conscious dream, in many ways, enlightenment lies closer to our fingers than in the lucidity of the waking world. Here we should remain unfettered by petty waking fears and desires (mostly stemming from a profound need for self-glorification). Yet, many too many dreamers forget the nature of the realm and the reasons they first descended those thirty-nine steps and opened consciousness within the dream. Again finding solace only in frenetic racing to gain power and to prove their superiority through violence... Or ego.
Dreamers come to me and ask, "I have heard of you and your studies, can you tell me the nature of the dream?" Each time I respond the same way, "I, nor anyone else, can tell you the nature of the dream. What I can do is offer possibilities. Some may contradict others, some may be right, some may be wrong. All are worth further investigation and may lead unto possibilities so far unseen."
It is true that only teachers can grant arts and spheres. So far, albeit only in so much as I have seen, I have never determined these arts to be necessities for the path of enlightenment. However, it must be said, that as there are an infinite number of paths to enlightenment who is to say that arts, violence, arrogance, ego, or any of the more 'negative' aspects can not be someone's path to enlightenment. Just because they do not lie along mine now does not mean they will not in the future, or that they do not lie along someone else's path.
However, the universe is not fair. Earlier in my journal I discussed violence as a path to enlightenment. Within that discussion, I said that though all in the dream may seek enlightenment the universe has decreed that those who seek enlightenment through senseless violence will never find it within the dream. It is not that violence is invalid; it is that violence is not welcome. Regardless of validity because the universe is not fair and the dream has decreed that uncalled-for violence is not to be tolerated.
Yet, when can we say that a path to enlightenment must be dismissed and prevented? Given the infinite variety of paths, then any path must be possible. However, as with violence, there must come those paths that just will not be permitted and must be stood against if for no other reason that the universe is not fair.
Care must also be taken to not confuse haste with a bona-fide quest for enlightenment. There are several people, who I feel, have made this mistake. Seeking self-gratification, recognition, and power all in the name of some subjective definition without considering what they are truly saying or supporting. My opinion of others prevents me from believe that the actions of deliberately malign and instead I see them as misguided. Ultimately unacceptable but not malicious.
Again my thoughts stray to the 'City Council'. A defunct gathering that collapsed under its own ego. It can be juxtaposed to 'The Circle' and quite effectively. Both seek certain agendas. Both have goals. One acts on beliefs, the other does not.
Proponents of the Council state that they merely want to do what is 'right' for the dream. Furthermore the charter says this. They add that the council is ONLY an arbiter body and not a governing one. However, the charter does not specify this. The charter gives the council the authority to do what the council believes is right and to use the city guard to enforce this. That's all. No definitions of right, no concepts. Merely, a subjective platitude that they will do what is 'right'.
Each house does what it feels is right. This often leads to squabbles and the occasional war. However, the houses for all their blustering, always acknowledge the rights of others. The definition of 'right' ends outside the house and suddenly becomes open to interpretation again.
By definition a 'City Council' could not have such self-imposed limits. The council acts on what it believes is 'right' and enforces that view. All because the charter allows it to do so. No matter the words of the proponents, most of who act far too hastily for my taste anyway, I will always look for the possibilities. The possibilities inherent in the charter are too terrible to consider.
The Circle, on the other hand, remains a wholly different matter. I spoke with Airen recently who apprised me of the goals and charter of The Circle. At no time did I hear the word 'right'. Instead I heard "We will work to maintain and promote peace. We will attempt to find solutions between houses and spirits that do not lead to violence. We will not impose our belief on anyone, instead we will offer suggestion to be taken or disregarded by those who we give them to."
The Circle, to me, is what the Council should have been. In fact, at the first meeting I warned that the charter and council need to be extraordinarily specific. (My time in Ordo Rosae Moriatur has taught me much of leadership, councils, and charters.) A body of people who would offer suggestions and time to help mediate problems between houses and dreamers is an excellent idea. That this body has no military arm and does not even attempt to enforce its decisions is superb.
What I see is that The Circle will start off with little to no authority or credibility. However, judicious decisions and time will give those to The Circle. It will be earned, and hopefully the gathering will be respected for its efforts and successfully maintain peace. The Council, alternative, sought to seize power and credibility. To declare itself a governing body, for what purpose I cannot imagine. Though given the nature of the people I have my suspicions.
To date, both are functioning groups. For now, The Council only governs itself. It is not welcomed in the dream though they don't seem to care. The Circle is growing and refining its goals, I have offered my support of the Circle and aid should it be requested. Though I will not join the group.
Sometimes, we must place aside ego and emotion to look at possibilities of truth. However, in a land formed of ego, mind, feelings, ideas, hopes and fears, this can be far more difficult that most care to imagine. I only wish more people would do so. For facts remain, and the universe does not care what our perceptions are.
(4/27/98)
Again I descended the thirty-nine steps of deeper slumber. Once again unlocking consciousness with the Silver Key. Finding myself within Threshold.
Perception, reality, and the universe know no boundaries of folly, exactitude, or enigma. We perceive through our senses: light, sound, flavor, aroma, and sensation. These meager and subjective tools are what the universe has provided itself to determine its own existence. An odd statement that as I reflect upon my own words now. The universe manifests through us, the name-givers.
A wise writer once said, "What would it be if I were to write about a 'red' candle and then analyze the meaning of the color red?"
Can an artist determine meaning and symbolism in their works? Meaning and symbolism beyond what they intended for the piece's creation? Is this a reasonable supposition?
Meaning exists beyond what the artist intended, or implied. Beyond even what may subconsciously be present in a given work. Meaning exists and the universe attempts to show us through recursive metaphor this truth. We are born in the hearts of stars. We are given the tools of life, perception, awareness, thought and our senses. We are the universe made manifest and seeking to understand the nature of the universe. Recursion in its most elegant form. It would be as though a god created a being for the sole purpose of determining the nature of god. An endeavor many philosophers and scientists strive to accomplish.
I stood before the mural. An eternal unity of hands over the eight and the pair. Kard stood with me, as did Solister. The two dreamers engrossed into finding meaning within the mural. Kard suggesting that the image represented cooperation between the houses. Later I would find Kard and suggest that he hear the poetry and ignore the sight. What transpired was indicative of the trap that many dreamers and seekers of enlightenment fall into. Confusing the media for the message. The dream speaks to us only reluctantly. Its words and sayings lost in metaphors of imagery and sound. The obvious is rarely the answer and in one sentence I conveyed that possibility to Kard. Such is my self-imposed task.
The universe possesses truths and meanings. Regardless of our perceptions or beliefs. Standing in thought within the Library of Souls it finally occurred to me. How, exactly, do we experience the dream? We are not possessive of any mortal faculty. Yet we see, hear, feel and experience sensation. Surely if the dream is a purely mental construct then none of this would be possible. Especially conception of creatures solely of dream. If beings conceived of dream possess soul spheres, and age, and grow, then to suggest we exist in a purely mental state is arrogance and folly. Clearly we exist within some level of reality. It is, therefore, unfortunate that the few cases of dreamer conception are closed to me because I am not well received in several areas of the dream. Being regarded as insane, or an idiot, or blind. The appellations do not disturb me. The loss of knowledge and possibility does.
So the universe created name-givers in an attempt to understand itself. The name-givers create dreams and fancies in an attempt to understand themselves and now the dream creates beings within itself. Is this indicative of the dream trying to understand itself? Should the dream understand itself will we learn of ourselves? If we learn of ourselves will at last the universe understand itself?
The dream, and the universe guide us. They speak to us in symbols and metaphors. Though only a few listen or watch. I wondered, last eve, that since we exist within a consistent and cumulative mental construct called Threshold and that the nature of the dream is mental; would it be possible to perceive in means differing from what we are used to? Could we 'hear' light? Since there is no light to be seen within the mind (being as it would be a pure mental construct) perhaps we could learn to interpret the stimulus in different ways. Perhaps not.
I recently discovered a new possibility: You must not whip a man 40 times lest you kill him.
There are 39 steps that take us through deeper slumber and to Threshold.
Perhaps that 40th step is death and the dream city rests on the Threshold, not of dream, but of death.
(11/04/99)
Stasis and flux all at once and never together within the realm we call simply (though possibly incorrectly) 'the dream'.
I descended the thirty-nine steps of deeper slumber as I always had. I unlocked consciousness with the silver key as I was taught so long ago. A great deal of time elapsed since I last turned the key within that lock.
My grand experiment coming to fruition I determined the correct timing of my arrival to see if my suspicions should lead to further inquiry or if my misguided observations should lead me to abandon my suggestions in favor of new ones.
Threshold presented itself to me. As did my journal within the dream and several other objects that I remembered possessing: a note from Boggen and Soulthief, words of encouragement from Krynn, and my own sigil that granted me privilege to the houses of Threshold for purposes of observation. These all remained.
My journal detailed the vision that lay before my dreaming eyes and the words matched not only in fantastic structure but also in the undercurrents of emotion that the realm carries with it. A hum, if you will, that those who do not rush can hear and attribute to a forgotten history locked in undefined murals of slaves and the triad of faces so predominant in the architecture of Threshold and Cloudsbreak.
I retraced my old footsteps. I circled the great ring that surrounds the greetings chambers of the houses. I found the sanctuary where I once raised my voice in opposition of the formation of a city guard under a charter that ignored the freedoms of the spirits here and threatened to crush those who dismissed them as a dictator may attempt to enslave a population.
I even saw the faint glimmer of the blue halo bestowed upon me so long ago by a lyran who felt my merits warranted ascension to teacher regardless of my 'orbit' or sphere.
In short, for my hand tires of this description, everything remained the same.
Actually such is a falsehood. As one dreamer asked me:
"How do you find your return?"
To which I responded that it was as though I never left, and as though I was never here.
For in truth, in time, I had hoped that my words may send a ripple of doubt into the dream that perhaps what we are perceiving is not exactly what we should be looking for and that the answers to our questions may rest right before our eyes. Eyes that, sadly, remained closed.
Ah but I digress...
My experiment was on the consistency of the dream. In our lucid state we change and grow as experience shapes us into that form we must achieve. In the light slumber above the great 39 steps our dreams here reflect what we experience colored by who we are and distorted, perhaps, by ill-perceived conceptions of our world.
Yet, the deepest dream where we gather and speak with dreamers and (some of us at least) speak with the maren, remained consistent despite the changes I suffered in my lucid state.
So there is consistency to the dream at least for my eyes. As well as for others with whom I spoke.
To unlock that door and arrive in this realm, whether it be consensual dream reality, or something entirely different, is perhaps the most fantastic experience we can imagine in the lucid. And yet... dreamers rush for plateau (now only called plats) and spheres and collapsing of mares without a moments reflection or question that perhaps this is not the path to power, or rather, the path to true power.
So this remains static. I even saw that in Kard's eyes as I told him my observations upon my return.
Yet, if time is taken with a dreamer to suggest to them the other possibilities and to allude to the idea that true power is not in art but in word, then such a dream may take their first steps towards a search for understanding, and ultimately enlightenment.
Such is my hope for Nikimarie and Alathir as they were the first dreamers in my recent foray to truly question me on my ideas and even noted that I knew Kudzoo whom I share these ideas when we have occasion to walk the same path.
So I return to the dream to do what I always did... offer possibility to others not to indoctrinate, or possess power over, but to perhaps free from initial perception and allow that possibility to elicit further inquiry that this experience is not squandered.
(11/30/99)
I descended the thirty-nine steps of deeper slumber. Once again unlocking consciousness with the silver key and finding myself upon Threshold.
To say that storm clouds seem to surround my actions within the dream would be a statement of gross ego... even if on one level entirely accurate. However, I'm not generally given to such things so I'll merely state that it has been a difficult path.
I have ascended to sphere two, and as such more of the dream has opened to me. While I feel that the closure of dream because of sphere is a ridiculousness that is not the subject of my writings for this moment.
To see the passions of dreamers. That, among few, is a remarkable sight. To bear witness, first hand, to those things, which fire the hearts and minds of one’s peers, is a privilege, I believe. For mostly we keep ourselves guarded especially from the all-seeing eyes of those that surround and watched carefully over us, noting any transgression against any law, real or ill perceived.
For my time within the dream, I did not really 'seek out' arts or spheres or anything of the sort. I had surrendered to the idea that I would remain first sphere for my entire time. Not such a terrible fate as those areas of the dream offered to me, at such a sphere, provided more hidden knowledge and truths than several lifetimes of dreaming could ever unravel.
Yet Ayesh, who is my teacher and student, offered an appreciation to my, rather unorthodox, ideas. In his support he stated that perhaps my path was changing, though I failed to recognize that fact. Upon my questioning he reasoned that a time was rapidly approaching where the outer reaches of the dream could offer the 'proof' (as it were) of my ideas that I would have to see with my own eyes and transcribe with my own hands. That without journeying to these reaches, wherever they may be, my hypotheses could only remain as such. Possibilities forever frozen within the silence of uncertainty.
We spoke a great deal then about this. On the one hand my beliefs kept me at this low sphere with only a few arts to sustain me. I taught, not arts, but secrets, ideas, and possibilities, to students. My halo being a symbol that I was a teacher. Given to me at a time when there was occasion to recognize teachers, no matter their sphere or practical usefulness as it were, as teachers so that the newly awakened would know they could seek guidance from us. Likewise we, in turn, would offer our knowledge to the newly awakened and as appropriate practice our art of train.
Ayesh insisted that I was falling prey to my own belief. Something I urge others to avoid. Turning my words to me he said essentially; that we must remain open and flexible for to deny one possibility is to risk losing, forever, the question that may lead to the truth.
I agreed. As he knew I would.
So we set out... what could be done for my ascendancy to second sphere and ultimately, ascendancy to third. Which is currently my goal, which I precede with my care and deliberation. I suppose it'll be another two or more years before I see that ceremony. Ah well, it is my path and my choice for which I am thankful.
So we stirred the discontent of dreamers and teachers. A low hum that already existed that Ayesh and I decided to see if we could actually form up debate and discussion to bring the issues openly to the fore so that all of us together could discuss their legitimacy.
Very possibly what followed will rate among my most memorable experiences within the dream.
The very passions themselves flared and burned within the hearts of dreamers. Great discussions, threats, debates, and accusations... all manner of these were given, thrown, and even hurled as answers were sought and defiance presented.
However, as was my concern, would any good actually come of this?
So far this remains to be seen. For the efforts of the teachers and students, all of us together, we have been presented with a new oath that teachers are expected to swear.
Perfect? Not in the least.
I swore the oath and many dreamers have challenged my reasoning for doing so. Others even challenge my right to exist within the dream or wear a halo. Suffice to say, journal, I swore the oath with particular reasons in mind. Further I made very clear to all in attendance my attitudes concerning it.
First, I informed the Lyran that I would hold the Conclave accountable to the teachers and dreamers, just as I am hold accountable to them. I would challenge anything I disagreed with and would present the challenges. Thus I would continue to watch and speak on what I believed was right.
Second, I also stated clearly that if something happened from the side of the Conclave that could not be resolved to my satisfaction, I would give up my halo and 'honors' and then proceed to continue to speak, quite loudly, against whatever facilitated my leaving the teachers.
In short, dear journal, I made it clear that this was more than a blind oath, it was an agreement. An agreement made between me and the Conclave that we would work together for the betterment of the dream.
Currently the oath itself is stirring emotions and causing quite the ruckus. I am concerned that too many are simply rejecting the oath, without consideration of what the oath actually says and does. There is concern over the concept of 'future ideals' and I agree with that concern. It is a bad choice of phrase though I can see its necessity.
In reality, all the teachers must conform to any changes of ideals the Lyrans make anyway. The change in the oath reflects this. In order to remain a teacher this new oath needs be sworn which represents a change in the ideals. Granted it isn't much of a change and mostly it is an improved change, but a change nonetheless.
I suspect that the new oath would allow for refinements of the teaching system without a full scale re-swearing of the teachers to follow. However, since I am not entirely certain this is the case I made very sure the Lyran knew my intention that I would hold them accountable as they would me. Ultimately if a situation could not be resolved I would simply leave the teachers.
I do not need a halo to teach.
In the end, I feel this is a great step in the right direction. It is not finished, but certainly it has opened the door for more communication, debates, arguments, and change. And to these eyes, that is the greatest gift of all within the dream. However, only time will tell if my perceptions have merit.
So for now, I have taken the Conclave's oath and will uphold it until such time as I no longer can. Should that day ever come, I will relinquish my halo and continue to do what I do anyway within the dream. Teach the awakened to search for possibilities.
I will find my questions and perhaps some day I will find their answers.
(12/06/99)
I descended the thirty-nine steps of deeper slumber. Once again unlocking consciousness with the silver key, and surprised again that I arrived in Threshold.
Why surprised? Well, of all the infinite wonders of imagination tied by the ever loosening ribbons of dream why Threshold? Why this particular place? What determines that Threshold lies beyond the gates of deeper slumber? Why not, say, the Facade of the Order of Sable Moon or perhaps, the precipice of Edgeward Barrows? Certainly these places hold more meaning to me, and as such if my mind were to direct me to any particular point of arrival should it not be there?
Of course not. Such is foolishness based on an all to common perception within the dream.
What lies beyond that which we cannot pass through, and truly is there any reasoning that we should not be able to pass through any aspect of the dream? After all, it is a dream, not matter or terra firma.
Recently, I have come to learn that I should acquire the art of Chamele. I have used the alterors on many occasions. At first glance the art seems to simply persuade other dreamers that they cannot perceive you within the dream. I say persuade, as opposed to 'make invisible' because a dreamer who has focused their thoughts appropriately (say through the art of vision) can perceive a chameled dreamer, all things being equal.
So I spoke with purple lace, for a time. She described a different idea behind chamele. One that intrigues this humble dreamer and deserves further investigation. She posed: Chamele essentially allows a dreamer to 'wrap' himself or herself within the fabric of the dream and thus seem to not be visible, as it is they are concealed by the stuff of dream itself.
Upon further inquiry we found ourselves (along with Rebel) at the Ossuary of Dread. Where purple described a means to locate 'those weakening within the structure of dream' that would allow one 'to merge with the dream itself' and thus possible 'pass through the seemingly solid walls to what lies beyond'.
What is required is not so much an act of will, but an act of acceptance. For myself I cannot will my passage into the dream stuff. I must allow the dream stuff to embrace me and to draw me into ...
Forgive me as I must lower my stylus for the visions, or rather the feelings, have returned.
As I wrote elsewhere, I believe my ideas about the composition of the city itself. To believe a hypothesis is one thing, to see the beginnings of proof of the terror one has supposed undoubtedly leaves it mark on the soul. Yes, there are days I wish these ideas never presented themselves to me. However, one cannot travel down my path as far as I have gone and not be changed by it.
Perhaps the walls take pity on those who do not see. Rather, perhaps they cannot reach those who do not see. I do not know.
All I know is that... The walls know I have seen, and they reach me.
THEY know. They KNOW.
Under purple lace's watchful gaze I allowed my spirit to reach out and 'feel' the current of passion below the surface of the wall. Coldness swept across the extremities of myself and I heard sounds at the barely perceptible edges of memory. Sounds, had I paid attention would have warned me, but alas I disregarded them in my sometimes rushed quest for answers.
Slowly I released my will and simply allowed myself to be drawn into the dream stuff. The sounds of creaking doors, groaning of ancient dwellings timbers, all grew as my spirit was accepted into the dream itself.
Suddenly I was drawn completely.
Again I pause, lowering my stylus for a moment. My breathing becoming too harried for me to continue.
It drew me in and grabbed me. Pain, rage and terror clutching at my spirit drowning me in an ocean of hatred. The faintest sounds of creaking houses became the wails and screams of... I will not say, not yet. I heard it clutch at me. It knew I would pass through to the other side and it demanded I take it, or it keep me in its place. The terror ripped across my mind as a white-hot fire.
Then it was over. I stood behind the wall and the horrors only a thankfully fading memory.
Purple lace called to me and I told her that I had arrived. She was joyous at my success, though I kept the actual events close to me. I needed time to resolve what transpired before I could disclose what happened.
My journals raise interest with purple lace, which is flattering. As a result she asked me to write of my experiences. Such were my experiences. To see beyond the wall is much the same as seeing in front of the wall. Some places offer other chambers, others a vast infinity that cannot be explored, and still others fragments of paths that cannot be traversed.
None of what lies beyond is as important as what lies between.
I will seek out the art of chamele and use it to compare the nature of the art with the act of mergence within the dream. There is a new question posed to me as my ideas begin to take concrete shape and such at this time I must utilize an art to continue my studies.
(12/26/99)
This time, uniquely, what I write upon is not what I did, but what I did not.
I did not descend the thirty-nine steps of deeper slumber.
I did not unlock consciousness with the silver key.
I did not find myself once again within Threshold.
Goodbyes are unbecoming of this dreamer. It is a sequence of words I fear and ultimately regret but cannot undo; such is the way of the dream. At least for now it is thus.
Ayesh has said that if there is a spirit of absolute neutrality in the dream it is myself. While I cannot speak of the validity, meaning, or even importance of this statement, I will say that in leaving I am not neutral. Instead, of seeing this event from all sides, I can only see my own...
Of all the turmoil my times in the dream caused, of the triumphs and tragedies, of the joys and miseries, I stood impassioned (with the occasion to raise a voice, I must admit) seeking to see nothing less than, everything in its entirety. Never, once have I regretted an action I have taken within the dream.
Until now.
Simply, I cannot stay. I have not the means to remain.
Undoubtedly this could raise such accusations questioning my integrity.
"If the dream were truly important to Frylia she would stay. At last we see her for what she truly is."
Allow me a few statements to answer this spoken or unspoken, real or imagined sentiment.
In all my time within the dream I have sought not to 'serve the dream', not to 'serve the city', not to 'work for the betterment of the dream’; ask anyone, I have sought only to understand. Only to offer possibilities that exist beyond what a dreamer may have seen. Perhaps through constant question, observation, and challenge to belief I would find the questions that would lead me to the answers that I sought within the dream.
The last person I spoke to in revelation was Elias. In our time I challenged his belief and ultimately showed him there existed the distinct possibility... he was right.
I am the mad teacher Frylia. Even now I chuckle at the appellation. Speaking with nightmares, dark mares, becoming ordained at zero sphere and gaining my first one at the same time. Challenging the city itself just so I could learn the truth. Or hope to possibly glimpse its form.
An entirely selfish reason to dream. A reason I never denied, or hid from anyone. I suspect, I will not be condemned or even lauded, ultimately I expect to be forgotten. To hope otherwise would be a gross display of ego.
I dreamt two years ago, vanished for a time, returned again. What will I have done, if by simple extension of the time I remained in the dream, alone, will be insufficient to inspire any lasting memory, that is to be expected.
So why write, what is the point of this missive? As any of my students could say, I will answer these questions in my own time. Patience will reveal not only what I have said all along, but also what I hope to explain now. Impatience, as I so often encountered within the dream, will be rewarded only by fading memory and frustration within the dream.
Though we often dismiss those that came before, or those that did not quite 'fit in' it is these that teach what are possibly the greatest lessons within the dream.
There are three lessons and they are so crucial so fundamental to seeking that I would hope teachers would concentrate on these ideas rather than something as mundane as the names and goals of the houses. Certainly such trivia I never bothered to learn.
He was my teacher first. Those who have heard my story know what this dreamer meant to me. His lesson is wrapped in layers of understanding that can only be peeled away with patience.
Kudzoo never attacked. Never hunted mare or dreamer. Never accepted at face value what other dreamers swore as blind truth.
In his teachings I learned that we must not act on what we do not understand. Before we choose a direction or path we must understand the nature of the path that lies before us. As I have told other dreamers, the CHOICE is easy once you understand the choices presented to you. One you understand... once you UNDERSTAND... then the choice is easy. If the choice is difficult, then you do not understand, not yet.
Kudzoo was a dear friend and I had hoped to see him again in my time, this did not happen. A shame to say the least.
Boggen
After a time in the dream, Kudzoo determined that I NEEDED to meet Boggen. Though, there are dreamers that revile that name, Boggen was one of the many who spoke out that I would be ordained as a teacher. This would be after I learned Boggen's lesson.
The second lesson, the second crucial lesson of dreaming, is that we do not know. No one 'knows' the facts, the rules, or really anything. We have ideas of histories, skewed and written in bias. We have notions, concepts, and above all possibilities, of what may or may not be. In my time, against so many dissenting opinions, I would say that Boggen was one of the foremost dreamers with the greatest potential to understand the dream itself. As there are those who say that about me, I say that about Boggen.
Please, allow me this moment of ego...
The third lesson is my own. The lesson that I taught, or rather tried to teach, any who would walk my path. It is the meaning and answer I hold closest to my heart. It is the truth that allows me to challenge any who I stand in opposition. The possibility that allowed me, no matter the cost, to hold to my beliefs, always, without fear, without compromise.
It is the lesson I leave for those who have the patience to hear it.
It is dream. My students, you need to hear nothing else from me. For in those three words is all the knowledge and possibility I can hope to grant. To the dreamers I have not spoken to I will say just a little more...
It is a dream.
Allow it to be one.
Let go of the fear of the wakened world. You cannot die; you cannot suffer any true harm. Arts and spheres ultimately have no meaning or value. Houses are fetters that provide a means to weather the storms of belief until you are strong enough to let go of such fetters. Leave your beliefs, perceptions, ideas, fears, hates, and loves in the waking world at the doorstep.
Let the dream speak to you. Let it be a dream first. For until you do, you will only ever 'know' what your mind tells you, you know. Yet, the dream is with or without your presence the dream exists anyway. It is consistent, it persists. That alone should warn you that your mind does not hold sway over the dream itself.
Let go.
As Kudzoo taught me, do not act without knowledge and understanding.
As Boggen taught me, do not accept as truth what is merely believed.
My lesson to you, meet the dream on its own terms and hear what it tells you.
It is there to be heard, you need only listen.
Please listen, the song comes first.
Answers come later.
Pracie eovok.
(11/21/02)
Requests...
I descended the thirty-nine steps of deeper slumber. Once again unlocking consciousness with the Silver Key. Finding myself within Threshold.
The walls appeared in that peculiar way they always have. The images remained, still overlooked. I found my eclectic collection of odds and ends still residing in my bag. A codex supporting my ascendancy to teach even though I was unsphered. An ancient task for plateau of one of my arts. Small alterors I enjoyed examining.
My seal...
The seal given to me as a chronicler, historian, allowing me full and unhindered access to all the houses as agreed upon by all the house leaders of the time.
I suspect it would not carry much weight now. Though it will be fun to find out.
So I set out to find that who drew me back to the dream.
In the letter, the writer spoke in such a distressed tones and spent a great deal of time not only reading my words from years ago, but finding them! My curiosity grew so great I felt the only recourse was to return to the dream and see for myself.
A moment's reflection...
I last dreamt almost three years ago. As my dreams of that time drew to a close the whole world of teaching was thrown into disarray. Through the work of many, teaching was challenged to its core. The shock wave roared through the dreaming leading to great and terrible events. I weathered the storm determined to see teaching set right and to see meaning restored to the halo.
The loudest thunder now only echoed across the dream and my time was ending. Having already said my good-byes in the dream to those who meant so much to me, Purple Lace, Dreamweaver, Wishbringer, Ayesh, Intrigue, Kard, Brother Timothy, Luinitari, Valourin, a handful of other newly awakened students curious about the "mad teacher". I stood at last in Edgeward Barrows where I had met ~my~ teacher long long ago and had not seen again. I prepared to say good-bye.
His voice fell over me but I did not see him.
"It is good that you are leaving."
I smiled, "I'm glad that even in leaving I can do good then."
"I remember you from before, Frylia. You've dreamed twice now. Both times terrible events swept the dream turning friends against each other and threatening to destroy the delicate peace that is the dream."
I bowed slightly, "Events transpire not by the cause of a single dreamer but because so many desire them."
"For once Frylia, you are wrong."
"Oh?" I said.
"You may not have caused the events but you rallied those that would. Your voice gave courage to those who would have remained silent. Without you friends would not have turned on each other and..."
"Nothing would have changed?" I interrupted.
"Not all change is good." He said.
"I disagree."
His voice took on a much darker tone then, "You challenge what ought not to be challenged, you confront those who should not be confronted. Two times you have dreamed and two times the dream was thrown into turmoil. You are a harbinger of darkness and I hope you never return. Banishment should be your future."
The presence left then and I awoke.
After nearly three years I once again found myself within the dream. Those words a distant echo in my thoughts.
Until I found Purple Lace.
She held my hands and stared into my eyes and even now the tone in her voice chills me.
"It is good you have returned, the dream NEEDS you."
I explained to Purple Lace that there was little I could do. I possessed only rudimentary arts and second sphere. I could not stand against the forces threatening the dream.
She searched my expression of bewilderment and smiled in her way. A smile that said to me, "If this needed someone with art and spheres I would not be speaking to you."
"I know Frylia," she said, "the dream needs you to be you. To do what you do.
"To TEACH."
I found myself shrinking away from her intensity.
Dear journal, I've walked within the storms and have raised my voice and challenged any I wished for the ends I desired. I never feared retribution and did things for reasons that were important to me. I never sought to 'serve' the dream or the city. I certainly never allied with any group. I opposed those things that I felt blocked freedom. Freedom of inquiry and freedom to seek enlightenment.
Purple Lace frightened me. I had never been needed before. Tolerated perhaps, reviled frequently, but never needed. At least not that I could see.
So I nodded to her. A new path is set before me; a challenge has been placed on me rather than me challenging the dream. In that moment, I told Purple Lace that I would do what I always did.
"That's all I ask."
I suppose in the end my arrival heralds a change. Though this time, perhaps, not a change to the dream... but a change in my own.
It is good to be needed, but such responsibility is daunting. In the end we're all needed. Those who do good and ill, those who stay quiet and those who raise their voice. All these actions come together to create the events that transpire in the dream and the waking world.
More shall be written when I'm ready to speak on the first of trials... the freeing of the Free Spirits.
(12/04/02)
Phantasmagoria...
I descended the thirty-nine steps of deeper slumber, unlocking consciousness with the silver key. Once again finding myself in threshold.
Barely days have passed since my return to the dream. Yet, in my wanderings of three and four years ago I have known the dream to move at its own pace. An inevitable pace of decision and change that cannot actually be halted or truly delayed for the forces at work will not brooch any compromise and what must; will pass.
Until now.
In my time I've commented more times than I care to recall at the frenetic pace with which dreamers often conduct themselves within the dark city and the surrounding lands.
Now, though, not only are the dreamers racing, the dream itself is racing. Towards what I can only imagine. Yet, to these eyes, without a doubt a madness has grabbed the dream threatening to suffocate those last vestiges of freedom that hold absolute order at bay.
I have come to know within my wanderings that the horrific art of Dreamstrike has returned to the dream and has been used on more than one occasion. Those who, in my opinion, are the least worthy to use it have gained the art that was possibly used in the construction of the city and best left forgotten. Of course, in my opinion no one is worthy to unlock this art within him or her.
An infinite array of possibilities presents itself to us the moment we unlock consciousness for the first time. As we wander the dream slowly, or quickly, we whittle away one possibility after another. Those are forever lost and most were never explored to their conclusions.
Yet the dreamers, especially those of the houses, no longer tolerate infinite possibilities. It would seem, as I watch and record, that the sheer number became overwhelming. First the infinite became eight principles. Now of the eight there appear to be two. Freesoul and Illuminate.
Which one is right? Both and neither.
I smile at the thought that my own beliefs would cast me as a Free-Illuminate, as such I would probably be best suited as target practice for any of the houses that are now at war. My safety being those individuals, free and housed, that has decided that I must remain protected. For whatever reason they have not been inclined to say. However, I welcome such feelings and attempt to demonstrate my gratitude. Though I suspect my list allies will grow even shorter than it is, which at this time I can just about count them on one hand. Especially if bullying houses convince their so-called allies to join them in the war.
In the middle the free-spirits, perhaps the most important walkers in the dream, will be greatly harmed or worse impressed into houses.
What I find absolutely confounding is that this war cannot end. Not in any sane manner. Dreamers will collapse each other and reform and do it again. No faction could actually declare victory like this.
They can, though, if they decide collapse is no longer enough. Dreamstrike one, which will do nothing more than begat Dreamstrike of the initiator, revenge will follow, and revenge will follow that. What comes of this?
Desolation.
There is one that can stop this now before it spirals into complete madness. Yet his pride and fear refuse to allow him to do so. These thoughts infect other dreamers who now actively seek provocative events to initiate violence. Creating definitions of threats on the fly, such that to even challenge a belief or word is grounds for attacks. Meaningless attacks to be sure, but attacks none-the-less.
No resolution will be gained; if the dream is lucky then perhaps the war will simply fade away.
If the darkness is truly upon us, there will be resolution.
I only hope spirits will remain to see it and learn from this tragedy.
