Archive for February, 2010|Monthly archive page

Dream Journal: Temple Of Bright Wings

I’m on another planet.

I don’t know how I know this. I just do. This dream must be inspired somehow by Avatar and its own influences. I’m in a tent with a young girl, maybe 16 or 17, so shades of Dances with Wolves and Pocahontas are in there too. The Western motif appears again. She is my guide to this new and strange culture. She talks, but I cannot remember what she said.

Next scene is in what seems like a ruined temple, although for some reason it is referred to as a “church” in the dream. It then gets very cinematic, as a “crane shot” rising above the temple reveals it has no ceiling, and I see there is a large courtyard .

Inside, a splendid sight reveals itself. I see men, and only men, wearing colorful wings. Wings in red and green, mostly. And the wings are large, wide, sprawling, like those of a hawk. But I am told, or simply knows, that the wings are not part of their body, but were simply attached to their backs by some method. Nevertheless, they seem to have no problem flying – well, not exactly flying, they mostly hover above the ground for a couple of seconds, fly a few meters, and then land back down again.
The court is full of people. It seems to be some kind of a festival. or a celebration.

And then, like in the end of Raiders Of The Lost Arc, the sense of wonder turns horror. I notice old men stand at the outskirts of the yard with their mouths wide open, like the clowns in an amusement park booth where you need to shoot water into their mouth to blow up balloons. Here, archers try to aim their arrows right into the old men mouths. I watch how one of them succeeds, and the old man, his throat pierced, falls back into the bushes. I notice that those same men, with their mouths open, are not tied or shackled in any kind of way, but stand there willingly, their mouths open and ready….

There are other horrendous things going on, but I mostly just hear about them, and don’t see them, and I will spare the reader of the details. Suffice it to say the place is a place of sacrifice and ritual, as if I’ve stumbled onto a Mayan pyramid. There is certainly something in this scene that reminds one of certain Native-American cultures. It’s beautiful and brutal and the same time, and it seems that the people of the this tribe are perfectly fine with it, and they’ve been fine with it for hundreds of years.

I am much more of an observer in this dream. I’m not taking part in anything that’s going on. I am the visitor, the stranger, the explorer.

But I know I’m on another planet. I can just feel it. Does it make any sense? Does it?

The wings. They were so beautiful, those wings,

I wake up.



Your touch was a soft breeze
And the sea and the waves were a chorus of cheers
While we danced in the moonlight, giddy and slight
In a whirlwind of soulful lust and delight
And a thousand sunsets came and went
Making me feel like a tortured saint
And holding your hands and kissing your brow
I remembered how it was so long ago
That we danced in the moonlight, the sweetest moonlight
And our shadows were merging, forming a stain
And a tree up above was calling our name
In a cold night on a quiet road in an undiscovered land
Just the soft touch of a welting rose and the smell of its shame
‘Cause you know that it’s never enough
To say what we feel or do what we like
And you see right through me and I through you
No matter what comes and no matter who’s who
Just tell me this one thing and I’ll be on my way
Why did you forget about me at the end of a day?
Why did we rehearse for so long, dancing around each other,
If the music never started playing and it was all a clutter?
On the side of a road
Where owls call in vain
I cleaned up my glasses and sat in the rain