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In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary
September 24 th
Quintin remembered a snapshot of the notes that Dory had taken during her first trip to the Madagascan caves, a year ago.
Relevant extracts:
At one moment, I saw some hooded figure in the sideways tunnels… He vanished on the left, couldn’t follow him…
[…] HE KNEW HIS WAY INSIDE !
When he vanished, I had the vision of something, […] like the layout of a labyrinth, of cave tunnels — that are all underground and the many entrances are all over the world… PORTALS
focus opening/doors ; time/space…
The central cavernous part is some kind of key center, where anyone can meet…This has inspired Quintin to write some notes too.
He has the vision of these portals organized as clusters, like a tree, with branches and leaves… I will send him a more detailed image, but that may take him some time to digest!September 26 th
The latest additions to the story have inspired Quintin. He had some inkling of how “essence” (or what is somewhat referred as “oversoul” ) and all the “focus” of essence (or lifetimes) interplay, and are not as separate as they sometimes seem to be.
Here would be what we will say to him, if he wants to listen:
« Now, terminology can become tricky as, for much time, you have been accustomed to be considering of your experience as the projection of that of an “essence”, somewhat separate from you, the lowly focus.
Of course, you pretend the contrary, and become quite nifty in brandishing sentences like “I am essence, and I create all of my reality”, which you are and do actually, but that you do not always believe and trust.
These terms of “essence” and “focus” were given to you as means for you to better understand the interplay of consciousness. In the beginning of the acquaintance with these new terminologies, you have felt them remotely blurry and unrelated to previous concepts, which was the intention. But now, you once again objectify your understanding in something too rigid at times, and that little story is giving you a hint of what your real power is.
And you begin to really experience it, and really pay attention.« As was expressed many times, “essence” is no thing. It is an action.
The “essence” is each of you, that very portion of you that you feel when you slide your attention into the comment box.
In that, your purpose, you see, is only to experience, nothing more, nothing less.
And then time, as you know it, becomes irrelevant, you see. Your natural time is expressed through you and your explorations.
Notice how playfully, as essence (essence playing focus or focus playing essence), you let your natural time unfold, and at times find some strange weather pattern in your awareness that needs clarification. As essence, you playfully find the most perfect habits [shapes and clothings] to wrap around you, and continue your story.
Just as your dreams at night overlap and blend into each other.
Just as Rafaela created new focuses [Sam and Becky] to continue to play and make the story expand for all of the other focuses, Dory included.« That “I” of you is ever present, and is reflected perfectly in others’ perceptions, as you are drawing them to you purposefully. Do not brush aside their adjuncts, for they are also you, having moved your pawns forward, so to speak, through their moves.
« Thus understand that the story is a continuous stream reflecting the essence that is you, and your travel through the various guises you borrow.
In that manner, it does not matter how much sense it makes in linear terms. Because, in a way, it can’t make sense in these linear terms.« Let us explain this in other terms.
When you found difficulties in understanding the “scheme” so to speak, the figure that is drawn by the participants, it is because you apply the linear understanding of what such a scheme should be.
In that, you only perceive the “plot” as a succession of dots without a continuity, whereas the continuity is to be found in the other stories interwoven.
You are accustomed to stories where a single individual is enacting throughout the play, in a linear continuous fashion. The individual goes through many different actions, but is always the same in your perception.
Here, the tricky thing is to notice the continuity throughout the various habits [clothings] taken by the essence(s). It matters not that the essence takes that guise of say, a pirate sailing on high seas, just after having been an old crafty Lord in his windy castle. The underlying aspects of his exploration has been continuous and coherent: in this case, exploring and making sense of one’s exploration. It is just that a certain appearance has been perhaps more fitting to express certain aspects or qualities of essence, but the exploration has been one, throughout the entirety of the experience.« We will let you ponder this, and we will continue our own story, writing about you… »
September 28 th
This sand symbol that Quintin has brought up seemed to have come from many directions at once. Each character has connected it, in various ways.
Armelle (Arona) to her magic, Rafaela (Becky) to her collecting customs, etc. etc.Let us say that this symbol is not as innocent as it may seem. There are lots of associations with sand.
It is solid, yet fluid. In association with water, it can be used to build, and also to erode. It can shift into many forms, one of which is your glass, and your electronic components.
And most of all, it is, after your very oxygen, the most abundant constituent of your reality.
It is almost limitless in your understanding.
As is your magic.This magical device we made Quintin see in a visualization is an analogy of your very action of creation as essences.
The sand which molds itself to make forms and shapes in three dimensions is in fact likened to your consciousness. Each grain of sand represents your links of consciousness that bind together to do your command.
The shapes are moved by your essences, in which you may see that the essence is no thing at all, but is a continuous stream of action, not separate from others’.As Quintin said to Fiona, some individuals do differently when they create and shape their sands.
In analogy with the coloured sands, some people like Quintin enjoy using other people’s colours in shaping his own characters, while some others prefer to keep their own colours, to create a more definite sense of individuality. But they integrate the others’ movements and shapes nonetheless, regardless of how much they perceive it to be coming from them.With that said, let us see how much more will appear from that sandbox…
September 30 th
The Wrick family tree as it is now (or “will be” drawn around the time of the twins in 2057).
The Secret Life of Margaret Wrick , a newspaper cut from 2033.
October 7 th
The dragon Naasir’s dream
A panorama illustrating the portals between the worlds created by each of the participants… But who is dreaming, really?And an illustration of Chiara’s encounter with the glutton “dreggun” Buckberry…
Topic: Yuki’s Livrary
These are excerpts from Yuki’s diary, explaining some of the details of the experiment called — Malvina’s story —.
Note: for the reader not familiar with all the names here is a quick reminder:
- Araili > Yann, Írtak, Sam, Jacob …
- Armelle > Fiona, Arona, Tina, Qixi …
- Rafaela > Dory, Illi, Becky, Rodney …
- Yuki > Quintin, Al, Janice …
September 12 th, 2007
Today, an experiment has been launched by Quintin. Time will tell if it will bear some fruit, but the idea sounds good.
Having people join in a story telling, and see what happens, what are the “lessons” one can draw from this…Armelle, Rafaela and Araili are already on the starting-blocks, though Quintin is not quite aware yet.
I can hear some thoughts: Let’s say for the moment that there are no rules. We will see what prompts the desire for having rules…
September 13 th
Some of the people familiar with Janice and her friends’ adventures have already joined in with much enthusiasm.
This first comment seems very promising.Right now, it feels easy and fun.
Quintin seems to think that everything is very straightforward.
The magical world with the cave in one part, separated from the “real” world. (Two Worlds, and he thinks that will be enough to content Rafaela, ahaha, how presumptuous)
The first he sees as a representation of what psychologists think of as “subconscious”, and the other being the conscious, physical part.But of course, he thinks he knows better than that. He calls the first one “subjective” rather than subconscious, because it’s a translation of subjects which unfold in many related objects in the “objective” or physical world.
That’s a good point, though a bit distorted. It would be better to say Malvina’s World is a translation of the subjective, in the manner of a Heroic Dimension.
But the thing is, that he missed the point in thinking one World is more “real” than the other.
We’ll be having some fun soon…First remark… The second comment of the story has been interrupted abruptly in the middle of a sentence. That is interesting. We will urge Quintin to leave it as it is, despite his feeling of it being awkward.
We will appeal to his imagination.
It seems he has heard the suggestion.September 14 th
For the most part, the story starts to get much involvement. Lots of energies are being projected into it, and with every adjunct, each participant’s perception stretches to accommodate the changes and smooth out the bumps in their own sense of continuity.
But as I expected, some challenges seem to appear already.
Is it raining or not in that world?
The question seems simple, but it is very profound and Fiona seems to struggle a bit with it, as is Quintin. The question frame itself [“that World”] shows where the difficulty lies.He seems to avoid the discrepancy and pretend that he has not seen it. Mmmm, avoiding the obstacles… that will very soon come right back in front of you dear Quintin, for Dory is quite playful.
At least Fiona has been challenging Dory for not paying attention… Armelle’s ineffable loving ruthlessness!
How will it unfold?
Rafaela seems to be delighting herself as though she’s preparing some mischief, but Dory struggles in the “back”…September 15 th
Dory is indeed very playful and her imagination is unrestrained. I extend much appreciation to this focus of Rafaela, especially as Quintin has to stretch his imagination to make things “fit”.
Quintin is still avoiding the issues that appear sporadically and prefers to stay focused on his own perception of the story… Careful Quintin
Yann joins the fun —objectively, that is, for Araili has been present already since the very beginning.
September 16 th
Halcyons days…
My dear friend Archie is answering some of Quintin and Yann’s questions.
Something starts to dawn on Quintin. But his mind is on other matters.He understands that the energies of the writers are melding in writing the story, but he still tends to think that they blend completely.
September 18 th
Quintin has been drawing some of the characters of the story. It’s interesting.
He had good insights, as Yann will tell him later that his clothes today were exactly the same as the colours he had drawn.Characters drawn:
- Mavina, Leörmn the dragon and weaszchilla, Írtak, Huÿgens (and Fjutch), Arona and Illi (the gripshawk)
- Malika, Quintin, Yann, Fiona and Dory
Interestingly, Fiona resolves her issues in her cave.
Dory too, but she did not need the cave to do this.September 21 st
For Quintin, the story seems to lose all common sense, as some characters move from World to World. You could have expected that Quintin!
And Dory pops in and out, in her mind, in her dream state, or in future timeline mixed with present or past one.
Quintin will soon realize that he himself is doing this constantly, though he does not register it.But the worst thing for him is that there are bleedthroughs in between Worlds. The Reality Times newspaper was brilliant Rafaela, a perfect trigger for the beliefs that the Worlds are closed and impermeable to each other!
Archie has been answering new questions about that story and this had been quite interesting for all of the participants.
There is much for them to digest from the realization that each of them had been creating their own versions of the stories through their perceptions. And that they were each having their version of the story, drawing from each other’s input, like a conductor of an orchestra incorporating some instruments.Of course, some things still matter, and one of the point of the story is also to discover these.
September 22 nd
Quintin has been drawing new characters.
Characters drawn:
- Båd Al’Guz (Bådul), BelleDora, Buckberry the dragon, the twin dragon eggs, Archibald the parrot, Sanso the Wanderer
- Illi Fergusson, another Illi that Quintin has tried to sneak in as a bait for Dory, with hints that she is disengaged (or “dead” in common vernacular) and merges with others of her focuses…
- Jacqueline Bleomelen (Nanny Gibbon), Lord Wrick, his great grand children the twins Cuthbert and India Louise, Manfred, William P. Jobsworth the painter
A new perception trick: Dory felt relieved upon seeing the moth feelers of BelleDora.
She had at first thought they were whiskers, which was not Quintin’s intent…September 23 rd
Quintin seems to have connected to a map drawn by Lord Wrick, when the old Lord has started to document his great grand children travels.
Quintin had tried to put some annotations on this fragment, but he doesn’t yet completely understand that his perception of this World, though accurate, is only valid in this present moment, and may change at any time.
Up to now, here are the names he could find:
- North: the Icy Lands, and Dragon Cemeteries
- Center: Goldfindely, homeland of Arona, connected to the Warring Kingdoms of Lan’ork by the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer. The Isthmus of the Dragon Head seems to lead to Malvina’s cave and hideout. Mount Elok’ram is pointed as the highest place of the World yet discovered. Three main rivers are drawn: in the ancient myths of the people of this land, they represent the three Daughters of Ghört, weavers of men’s destinies: Tibreÿa, Uleÿa, and Snimeÿa. Snimeÿa cuts the thread of life, which is shown as the river leads after many meanders to the Marshes of Doom.
- Far East, North: the Land of Båd Al’Guz, Åsgurdy. A harsh mountainous land of islands and seas.
Both parts of the World seem to ignore each other till now, as they are separated by the Great Rift, which in the past has deterred many intrepid navigators. - South: the Desert Lands. Illi’s birthplace, rarely explored by humans thus unaware of most of its marvels, gripshawks nomadic tribes included.
When he discussed Arona’s village with Fiona, Quintin had the vision of some dolphin-like creatures, but bright yellow. They are called golfindels and are mostly seen on the northern shores of Arona’s homeland, which is thus called Golfindely.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
On the shores of Golfindely, a young boy was playing in the carmine fields of ripe Scotch bonnets.
Since the captain Bone had left, Tomkin Sharple was feeling a bit sad.
The old captain always had fascinating stories to tell him, and he would indulge the endlessly curious little boy in telling him for hours all about what he had discovered in all the parts of the Worlds he had been traveling to.
Now, all he had to do was to take care of the herd of grakes of his parents, and while they were eating the weeds of the crops, he would sat on the cliff, looking at the sea, glimmering in the sunlight.
Grakes were funny to play with, as they were big birds, with a slender neck as geese, colourful patterns as mandarin ducks, and Tomkin always had fun jumping on the back of the alpha one, and ride it, leading the whole herd to the crops where they helped the farmers by eating all kinds of nuisances.
But after Captain Bone’s departure, it was no longer fun.
Tomkin was contemplating a strange thing that the captain had given him before he’d left. It was a sort of knot, shaped as a eight, and the captain had told him it was magic and meant that all was connected, but that he had to discover that magic for himself.
Tomkin had asked the captain to tell him about this object, but all he had told him was a legend which did not reveal much about the circumstances in which the old sea dog had acquired it. Perhaps the captain had fooled him about the magic…
Stuffing the thing again in his pocket, Tomkin let his mind wander on the sea waves, dreaming of being a cabin boy on a big boat, when he saw something on the horizon.
At first he thought that it was a group of swimming golfindels, but golfindels were more brilliant and smaller than the shapes he was seeing, and moving less heavily too…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
And yet….and yet….it’s so familiar! Bill climbed out of bed, eyes fixed on the stone carved head on top of the tallboy, and went over for a closer look. He reached up and touched the cool smooth stone, and then leaned back against the bedpost, stroking his chin, transfixed.
I must be dreaming, he thought, this just doesn’t make sense. And yet…..I’ve seen this before! The images flitted through Bill’s mind, not just this stone head, but other stone heads, all different but all linked somehow, and all so familiar.
Bill didn’t hear the soft tapping on the door at first. Bill! psstt, Bill! Open the door, it’s me, India……
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Oörlaith heard the sound of a barking dog not far from her rookery. They were back with his master, and she knew at once their mission was complete.
A few months ago she had met a strange man, he told her he was called Leonard, and the funny black dog that was following him everywhere was called Moufle. An ancient word for mitten… Well she didn’t ask why he’d call him like that, the dog was so hairy…
Leonard was a lonely traveller, quite ancient as she could feel, but she wasn’t able to know his actual age. And there were some other weird feelings when she was focusing on his energy tone, something to do with time itself.
When she first met him she knew he was the one she was looking for for ages. It’s been such a long time she hadn’t heard from her sisters. Oörlaith’d been having these dreams since they chose different direction many years ago, Malvina and Roselÿn, her precious ones. It wasn’t necessary for her then to keep objective contact with them through the glubolín.
One year ago, the dreams stopped abruptly, and she tried several methods to reach her sisters. None of them with success. All her attempts failed, and she thought first she had lost her own power, but she knew one can not loose power of self, just forget it or create it on purpose. She realized then it was time to recreate these links more objectively.
She couldn’t find her glubolín though. And Leonard arrived. Fortunately enough he had news from some strange events occurring in the land where she knew Malvina had settled her rookery. Was she still here with Leörmn?
Yann had been feeling many impulses to draw scenes from his dreams and from the story they were creating with Quintin, Fiona, and Truth. It was an urge from inside and last night he had a very intense dream activity, most of which he couldn’t remember, it was more like a big forum with many different personalities all exchanging experiences and exploring new avenues.
He was also attracted by old stories he was writing when he was a student, the one involving Georges and Salome, it seemed to him they had taken a life of their own now, and they felt very powerful, and most of all, they felt like really having fun.
One of the drawing that was intriguing him was one that represented a sign of sort, in grayish sparkly clouds. He had given the pic a strange title, Oorlath. Yann had connected the name to an individual and was surprised when Quintin told him about a princess named Oörlaith. He was wondering who she was…
She still had no face when he thought of her… maybe she was hidden for the moment… and he had the strangest thought that she knew Leonard, the man he’d been drawing with his black hairy dog.
Haha, he had felt her smile.
Chiara was looking for the boy she’d met last time in her dreams. Maybe he could give her some berries again, they were really tasty and fluberrish.
But she’s been looking for him for so long she wonder if she could find the way again…
Where she was now felt different. The light? The air? She took a deep breathe and just sat down on the grassy land. She had a quick thought that the land were more rocky than grassy a few seconds ago, but as she was feeling the grass under her hands, she dismissed the thought.
She was hearing birds singing, it was quite funny the way they were bounding from one sound to the other and she could understand what they were saying, much gossips and a few compliments for a new mother
nothing really important to her. She Jibbled.Lying down on the mossy land, she was looking… mossy? wasn’t it grassy? Now it’s mossy… hope that wouldn’t become mothy
She was looking the clouds, some were grayishly sparkling, she was enjoying it…
“Are you looking for something” a voice said.
Chiara quickly sat up and gazed at the fat lady who was standing before her.
“Hahahaha, you found me at least my dear” laughed the woman.
“My name is Roselÿn, and you are Chiara, aren’t you?”
The little girl was gaping at Roselÿn… how could she possibly know her name?
“I feel I know you :yahoo_thinking:” she said dreamily.
“You make me feel like when I’m with my uncle Yann, and… there’s something else… oh!?”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Fiona woke suddenly from a dream. In her dream she had been communicating with her online friends, through drawings and messages. She had been trying so hard to convey something, and the more she tried to say it, the more distant they felt to her.
She had woken feeling saddened. Her energy was greatly disturbed, and, unable to get back to sleep straight away, she meditated. She felt herself connect with the energy of a Snowy Owl, who invited her wordlessly to ask her questions. The Owl’s eyes seemed to have such a depth of wisdom and kindness, and no sooner had her thoughts begun to ask their questions, than she would feel the Owl’s answer merge with her own knowing.
She felt herself being able to say without words what she had tried so hard in her dream to convey, and understanding there was no need for any effort, she felt greatly comforted, and peaceful sleep swept over her again.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Jadra slept fitfully. He was in the forest and he dreamed of a great tidal wave sweeping over him. He was holding on for dear life to the branches of a tree while angry faces swept by him in the water, shouting abuse at him, although he could not make out the words.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” he shouted back.
But then, to his horror he saw his left hand separate from his arm and he could no longer hold on. He saw his hand being swept out to sea and all that mattered was that he find it again. He let to of the safety of the tree and felt himself being pulled by the waves.
Jadra awoke trembling and shaking in terror. He looked for his left hand on the end of his arm, where it should be, but he could not see it. He knew what had happened. He had thrown his hand in the river. He thought it was sticks and stones he had thrown in, but he had been mistaken. He knew that now. He had to go and find his hand in the river.
Jadra felt such anguish. Not so clever Jadra Iamaman. You stupid old Fool
Forgive me! he shouted to the Gods. Whimpering in pain he rushed back the way he had come, back through the forest to the spot where he had last seen his hand. He threw himself into the water and dived down deep, not caring he could not swim, only knowing his hand was in there somewhere.
There were very few people around that early in the morning, but a small boy saw Jadra go in the water and stood watching. He waited and waited, and when he knew for sure there was something wrong he raised the alarm.
Jadra felt a great peacefulness sweep over him. He stopped fighting and abandoned himself to the mighty current of the water. A unicorn swam by him in the water and whispered to him she would take him to safely home.
They pulled Jadra’s body from the water a mile down river.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
When Cuthbert came back to bed after having had his cup of cocoa, India Louise was awake too.
— I saw him too, she said to her brother.
— I don’t want to see him again, these books are scarey.
— It’s intriguing, I want to know more, India Louise said, egging on him.
— When I close my eyes, I got all these roots and webs crawling, it’s mad… I can’t…
— He has found a friend to help him cross the Dark Forest to the traveling portal.
— A friend?
— Yes, a friend. She’s special.
— Tell me more…
— She’s a white unicorn, only him can see her.
— Wow…
— She’s named Mirÿnda. She’s glowing white, and he hears her speak in his mind, she shows him the way through the forest… — Mirÿnda?! A fool in saffron robe gallivanting in the forest with a unicorn now? That’s all you could find?
Tina was taken aback…
— Well, I could have used a grizzly bear too, now I think of it… Al answered flippantly.
— Tsk tsk, replied Tina a bit annoyed. And why not a humpback whale, or an arctic lemming, or even… why, a leopard gecko for that matter?… And who’s that Mÿrinda anyway? — I don’t know any Amanda, Fiona said to Quintin that night. Don’t really know many of Michaela & Elias’ students. She’s Yann friend, right?
Quintin had answered distractedly, as he was engrossed by his last painting…
Later that night, he couldn’t find sleep, as the dragon he was painting was still expanding his web of roots and branches in his mind’s eye. He opened his computer to see that Malika was online.
She told him something that night, something Quintin found abysmally profound and perplexing about his dragon…
— Dragons can shape shift, into anything they want to. There are several doorways/portals that they use for travel into this dimension. Malika said
— Yes, said Quintin, this drawing has something to do with these portals initially, but I struggle a bit to represent them…
— Yes, so you can just depict it to be flowing, liquid-like energy in the center, when the portal is active.
There are some that are being shone to me on the bottom of the ocean floor.
What is being shown to me, is a dragon with a tail much like a mermaid, and hands with webs, big yellow eyes…Wow he had thought, she can really see.
Jadra, guided by Mirÿnda, had been moving quite easily through the Dark Forest. Of course, he wouldn’t have dared touch the holy creature, and so he was walking hesitantly behind, taking care of where his bare feet were touching the ground.
The Dark Forest was bordering the Marshes of Doom, and at times the limits between the two were almost indiscernible. It was said that every foul, err… fool… damn,…
— Will you stop being so buffoonish! raved Tina again.
— Perhaps I should let someone else continue then? said Albert.
— Well, that’s entertaining, replied Becky mechanically.
— OK. I’ll jump in, said Samuel, with a wide grin.It was said that every full moon, the Mighty Shrimp would come from the shores of the Southern Seas and haunt the Marshes in search for souls to be turned into krill, so that he could be the WALRUS (Wrathful Almighty Lord Ruler of Undersea Souls).
Well, at least, that’s what Jadra had heard in his youth, when you tend to believe everything… So he was weary of the hiki-hiki sounds in the night that might have been the dreaded call of the Mighty Shrimp.
Quintin was having a strange dream. He was a huge whale, along with another one he knew was Yann, swimming powerfully in the vast ocean, passing by strange creatures that could have been mermaids or improbable fishes, when his gaze was attracted by a stream of glittering particles of light.
The lights were enticing, he would have said even “mouth-watering”, had he not had the baleens full of water already…
Salome was moving through layers of consciousness, something humans focused in physical dimensions would have found difficult to grasp, as it was nothing that could be easily conceptualized. She was, as best as she could put, like a huge cloud of lightness coalescing into a form, when she decided to project her aspect.
Taking form into a dimension required no effort in actuality, the consensus reality created by all the essences focused into the reality making quite a strong pull. She only needed to move her attention to what she wanted to manifest. Altering her reality slowly around her, to move closer to the desired effect.
She was not only traveling through time and space, but also through multitudinous layers of dimensions unnoticed to many humans —in fact, she was not really moving, but that was a convenient way of telling things for humans…
She said “humans”, because she was fond of this particular dimension, where she’d had lots of experiences.
When moving through the dimensions, it had her projected focus of attention constantly and naturally adapt its form to the psychological environment.
Here, she had just moved through a honey-drops dimension, where focuses were drops of golden honey-like substance, and as she moved through it, her own aspect had changed to that of a sand-glass shaped drop of honey.
This was great fun for her to see the ease with which she could focus into this infinite variety of adventures, but for now, her pull was to some more complex physical dimensions.
She started to move again, de-focusing, past the lazy honey drops.
The honey drops were now shape-shifting to a whole immense field of snake-like strings of light, and they all started to converge to a direction. She knew the feeling. She followed the strong pull.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Cuthbert woke up with a start, and called for Nanny Gibbon. What a horrible nightmare he was having!
CURSED HAND, YOU HAVE GIVEN ME NOTHING BUT GRIEF. I WOULD RATHER NOT HAVE A HAND THAN HAVE SUCH A WICKED, EVIL APPENDAGE ATTACHED TO MY BODY.
Cuthbert trembled and checked his hands. Phew! they looked normal.
GOOD RIDDANCE HAND. MAY YOU ROT IN THE BOTTOM OF THIS RIVER AND NEVER AGAIN INFLICT YOUR EVIL ON ANY OTHER POOR UNSUSPECTING SOUL.
Nanny I just had an awful dream! Cuthbert clutched Nanny Gibbon’s dressing gown, and shuddered. There was this madman, Nanny, by a river, and he kept shouting about an evil hand….
There, there, Bertie, it was only a dream. How about a nice piece of Manon’s Yorkshire parkin and a cup of cocoa?
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Yann had a strange dream that night, he dreamt about his niece meeting a dragon, and the dragon was also a boy, a boy that seemed to be very familiar, but he didn’t know yet who it could have been
He was feeling an urge to draw that particular scene of the dream that was so vivid and lively, but he still was hesitating about the manner he would render the dragon becoming a boy, or the dragon being a boy… it was beginning to take shape in his mind eye… and he felt a laugh and a thrill in his neck.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The boy was approaching in a manner he obviously wanted to be threatening, but the little girl was still giggling unafraid.
He took his most growling voice.
“Don’t you fear DRRRAAAGONSS?” he blew in her face.
“Hahaha. What’s Dregguns?” she said with difficulties as if it was her first attempt in pronouncing the thunderous name.
He took a deep breath as if to answer the question and stopped.
She was looking at him with such innocence and friendship in her eyes.
“You really don’t know what dragons are?”
He drew closer and his gaze changed. And he looked surprised as if he was eventually noticing something important.
“Oh hoho! I understand now why you seem such an unafraid little girl…”
“I’m not little, I’m five.” she said grumpily. But she laughed as readily after that
“It appears I’m in the middle of one of your dreams. What’s your name?”
“I’m Chiara.”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
New York, October, 4 th 2033
Albert had opened the newspaper, scanning distractedly through the various pages of text that would read aloud automatically when he was running his fingers through it. He was about to close it, when he noticed that article in the Life Focus section.
Dublin, October 5 th 2033
Sean Doran Wrick had received tons of phone calls, emails and voice mails of condolences since the past few weeks, but he had not found the strength to answer any of them. Especially those coming from his father.
That morning, he had received some letters that he would have left on top of the others, had he not recognized the round and cheerful calligraphy of Becky on one of them.
He had known Becky when they had traveled together in Syria, and had enjoyed so much the lively young woman that they had kept in touch during all those years.
He was pleased to read from her, and wanted to enjoy it fully.
So he took his time to put to bed Guinevere and Peregrine before. Guinevere was the eldest, very mature for her barely 11 year old. She took great care of her younger brother, who was more dreamy and foolish. Peregrine would turn 10 next March… but he was hardly as responsible as his sister when she was his age…
I would have liked to finally take the time to write to you in better conditions, but I could not delay any longer. I saw the obituary in the newspaper, and wanted you to know that I share your grief and loss, and extend much love and support to you and to your dear little ones.
I know you’re not the kind of person to be satisfied with banalities, so I will not dwell on this tragedy, and will remember the best moments we shared together.
I still continue my studies and practices on dramatherapy, and till now it has proved very beneficial, in many ways. I have learned so many things. It’s quite rewarding. We are a close-knit group of fools (or drôles as Al loves to say, as some of his ancestors come from the bayous!), and that is very much enjoyable when things that tragic come to one’s reality.
In case you feel like talking, don’t hesitate any moment, I’ll be here. Anytime.
Love,
Orkney Islands, October 4 th, 2057
This year again, Sean Doran had not answered his father’s calls.
This September 23 th was the twenty fourth anniversary of the disengagement of Lord Wrick’s daughter-in-law, and this was always a very somber period for the family.
Hopefully, the twins were here to enliven the old mansion, for as long as their parents, Lord Wrick’s grand-children, would be traveling. And of course, there had been the unexpected return of the books, which had been comforting too.
Nonetheless, Hilarion Wrick was sad, and Bill the painter was uneasy as to how he could not quite put right the portrait of the old dragon…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“What are you doing?” said the little girl.
Getting no answer she asked it again.
“What are you doing?”
She approached the strange being that was so engrossed in its activity, or maybe it couldn’t hear her, she thought dreamily. She put her hand through the big (what color was that) beast.
She thought about that a little and tried to seize one of those big berries.
That worked, she could at least grasp one of those, not two, her hands were too small, but one was as big as that ball her father was so fond of playing with… she couldn’t remember what he called it. Well it mattered not, she could grasp one of them
It was a bit warmer than she would have thought. A bit mushy, and very soft. She had a very pleasant sensation caressing it, it was electric and watery and she laughed.
The beast stopped what it was doing. Did it hear her laugh? It began eating the berries again.
She stroked the berry and felt the funny laugh emerge from her chest. When it burst out the beast stopped again.
“Oh you can hear me laugh!” She said, unaware of her hand gently rubbing the surface of the berry.
“Grumpf!” did the beast.
Its eyes were beginning to change, from yellow to a kind of blue with some tiny stars in them. The girl giggled and was suddenly face to face with a little boy.
“What are you doing here” said the boy.
“These are my berries, you can’t eat them.”
She was a bit startled by his first words and she already had forgotten the weird beast.
“I just wanted to play, they are so soft and they make me laugh.”
She couldn’t help another giggle.
The boy still seemed wary of her and began to move.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Huÿgens was not much of a cat person.
He liked his dogs because they were solid, loyal companions, and he could count on them to take care of his herd of langoats.
Langoats were a kind of three-eyed manic woolly and horned creatures, with a big sensing tongue, attracted to every new sound, or scent, or colour, or texture… well almost anything new that came before their eyes (when said eyes were not covered by thick layers of wool that is). And as their memory was short too, all kinds of things were always new to them.
That was why the dogs were extremely useful in channeling their movements; not that the langoats would have hurt themselves, because they were very able to provide for themselves, and jump from the top of a cliff without suffering much injuries. But they could very well loose all notion of their physicality and pop in and out of the fabric of time and space.
When they came back, because they always did magically come back, even after months of wandering, they would at times be reconfigured into another creature, and that would be pointless applying too much effort in trying to bring them back to their previous form, because it was said, in relation to their stubbornness that once a langoat, always a langoat…
Huÿgens had already lost some, especially during the shearing season.
And he had found himself back once with a cumbersome hippoliphant, and a bouncy shulimeek instead of two langoats.
Anyway, langoats wool was a very precious asset, highly sought after, as it could very easily bind with magical spells. Most of the clothes made for royalties were actually made with langoat wool, and it was also said that some enchanters had used langoat wool to make magical tapestries that would shapeshift, and reveal things to their owners.
So losing a langoat was not small concern for Huÿgens, and he had to be careful during the shearing season to leave some mops of hair to cover the three eyes of the beasts, so as to curb their insatiable thirst for discoveries.
But these days, Huÿgens had been very concerned about his herding dog Fjutch. Fjutch was a fluffy black dog he had found when it was still a puppy. He had trained it to become the head of his pack of dogs, when he had noticed the old rheumatic Thöm was taking the puppy under its wing —because the old faithful dog was knowing that it would depart and would reconfigure into a new form, but would not allow that to happen, not before he could have found a reliable companionship for his beloved master Huÿgens.
The healing properties of the langoat milk seemed to had done wonders once again, and Fjutch dis-ease was probably just a false alarm, but it had reminded Huÿgens how much he appreciated his dogs, every one of them, every day he was with them.
As for the cats… Illi, that was her name, had decided to come back to the cave, and he was showing her the way to the place where he had found her. He had asked BelleDora to pack a few things for her. He could not give Illi the beverage she was referring to as “coffee”, as that plant was not found in their region, but in compensation, he gave her a gourd of langoat milk, because she seemed like she would probably need some.
When he left her near the hole, he had some tears in his eyes when Illi hugged Fjutch very tenderly, as if the dog was reminding her of something dear. Illi after a moment hesitation, where she was like speaking to herself and not knowing what to do, finally hugged Huÿgens too, thanking him for everything he had done.
And off she was… free and unfettered as a gripshawk…
When Illi had finished arguing with Illi about having her hug the big man, while this was not manners of her kind, she sighed as she saw that the opening she had first thought was here (yeah, because I fell in there! she said), her senses where telling her that it was now closed…
— How quaint said Illi for herself.
— Well, as a matter of fact, it reminds me of something, said Illi F. There was that delicious gentleman, John Lubbock who said “What we see depends mainly on what we look for” and somehow it seems perfect.
— I don’t know any Grubbeck, grumbled Illi, a bit irritated that the hole, which was there before, wouldn’t be here, now she needed it.
— Lubbock was such a nice person, said Illi dreamily… Perhaps I could just try to have a peek inside the cave, if you let me.
— What?! Do again your wizzy wooey thing and I’ll strangle you! Don’t know how I would do it, but I’ll do it!
— Oh, you are so sluggishly gloomy! That was just to help you…
— Mmm, sorry for that, I was a bit upset, said Illi. What could you do?
— Just focus on the inside, and carry us both inside… But actually you would have to leave your body here, and we’ll probably see other things that do not belong to this place, but heck! that should be fun, Illi F said grinning widely.They were interrupted by some munching sounds and ruffling heavy breath.
— What the bejeezus is that?! hissed Illi the cat (who didn’t even know how she knew so funny sounding words as bejeezus)
— Can’t you see? That’s obviously a dragon eating some bushes… How strange… replied Illi F airily.
— A WHAT? I HATE DRAGONS!
— Ahahah, relax, I was just pulling your leg.
— That’s not funny.
— Well he has funny colours by the way. Pinkish purple I wouldn’t dare to wear in London streets.
— That’s REALLY NOT FUNNY!
— Why so? You can’t see it anyway…
— And what if he sees me? Dragons are vicious creatures.
— He’s too busy eating these funny berries, and will probably collapse of exhaustion once he’s full.
— A chance! A vegetarian dragon!
— OK. Shall we try to find an entrance in the cave with my method, or do we ask the dragon? He looks well-mannered by the way.
— Oh, by the eyeballs of the Mighty Shrimp, you tell me…
— No, you choose.
— No, you.
— You…
— Ooooh, bugger off…In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Fiona woke up smiling from her dream.
She had been in a new house, scrubbing the wooden floorboards, rearranging furniture. There was a nice garden, very green. Anyway all these ducks flew into the garden, well ducklings really, because they were cute and yellow, like cartoon ducks.
It had been drought conditions for so long that Fiona was concerned for them. So she filled a glass with water and threw it over them. She kept doing this, and the ducks were hopping happily around in the water. Then they all started clapping their wings together to thank her.
Fiona had been having lots of duck imagery lately. A funny thought crossed her mind as she thought of Rose, a friend of Dory’s who was into birds. Well she was a friend of all of them, but Fiona associated her with Dory, because Dory was always saying “Rose said this… or Rose said that”…
Quintin said ‘ducks and drakes’ was a game where you threw pebbles into the water or something. This cast a slight shadow over Fiona’s day thinking about it, because sadly her pebbles had still not arrived from Yann.
Anyway when they did get there, no way would she be throwing them away into the water. Not after this long a wait.
What was the time anyway? she wondered looking at her watch 1:11, cool time for some more housework.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Dory was secretly delighted Georges had drugged the coleslaw, despite appearing to be angry. She loved the way different things altered her perception, and even though she knew how to alter her perception without using a drug now, she also knew she was creating the drug and its effects, and that it didn’t much matter whether she did or she didn’t.
(Becky wondered if that principle applied to pain relieving drugs too, and decided that indeed it must. She wondered though if she really really believed it enough to trust herself to create pain relief WITHOUT actually swallowing a little ball of physical matter)
Dory was reluctant to admit it at first, but she’d also known all along that she’d created Georges appearing out of nowhere like that, and that she had in fact invited him. Sometimes it seemed easier to forget that and just grumble, which of course was acceptable too. Grumbling was fun sometimes, but it got awfully boring if she carried it on for too long.
The coleslaw was delicious.
Have some more, offered Geroges
(Becky made a note to change Georges name to Geroges. It was no accident that she kept typing it like that, and she was beginning to think correcting it all the time was futile, and that she was somehow missing the clue)
Dory munched the crunchy coleslaw.
(Without a moments appreciation for her lovely strong full set of teeth, Becky noticed)
Dory unexpectedly felt a moment of appreciation for her teeth. Wow, she thought, I never even think about that, but teeth are cool. She shuddered when she remembered an awful dentist dream she’d recently had.
Dory looked up at Geroges and smiled.
Got any chocolate?
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
A few days after Sam and Becky’s conversation on the phone, they were having a rehearsal.
Just at the moment when they felt stuck again, despite Sam’s moves, Al and Tina, a couple of friends came crashing into the small theater room, and were greeted by an icy cold silence. “Icy” is an exaggeration of course, said Tina, “it just meant I had to put a jacket on again today”.
— Sorry for being late! said Al a bit uneasy.
— Oh you and your uneasiness! said Tina. And I’m sure we’re arriving at the perfect time.
— Oh, well, I’m not sure of anything today, said Becky. I’m sick of being force-fed coleslaw, and rigging down holes for myself.A silence was on the scene.
At the same time, somewhere on the deck of his ship, Bådul was remembered of the landscapes of his land. He had not really appreciated them before, but now, he was finding them dear to him. They were for the most part a mixture of sandy dunes, from which at times peaks of icy rocky mountains would stick out. Lately he had felt like one of these peaks sticking out of the sands. The sands were shifting.
Somewhere in Malvina’s cave.
Malvina had been polishing the last dry eggs that she had found and that would not hatch. One of them had some interesting perfect round shape, and a very transparent shell, and it gave her an idea.
She asked Leörmn to come.
Quintin’s bedroom.
[1:01] The clock was saying. Quintin had just awoken from a dream about an elderly woman who was showing him some drawings. These were not actually drawings, but in fact, they were called by the lady “glassart”. It was made, she said, of coloured sands, and would be vitrified by some flame. Quintin in that dream had thought the designs rather crude, but had found the idea interesting, and with great potential.
Leörmn came almost instantly, appearing in a puff of teal smoke.
Oh, I see… he said, reading Malvina’s mind. And I think I have the perfect sands to go with it.
— Why hasn’t that pirate, Badass…
— Badul, corected Al
— Whatever, Becky pursued imperturbably, that pirate Baddock used traveling portals to go and look for the eggs? Why the seas? Sounds a bit complicated and with lots of dangers too.
— Good question, answered Al. Well, don’t want to answer for everyone, but in my perception…
— Oh, get lost with your “in my perception” thing, that’s becoming tiring… sighed Tina
— OK. So, for me, they have forgotten much about magic in his land.
— Makes sense… added Sam dreamily… In fact, I’m not sure after all that Badul is only after gold. I think he has found some old desert dragon egg in a cave lost in his country and hopes to revive it, with the help of the people who still know about magic.
— Which would explain the quest… said Al
— Yeah, and he would have hidden that to the rest of the crew, probably… said Tina… Leörmn had now finished assembling the magical artifact.
— That’s one of our most beautiful magical artifact I’d say, Malvina gleamed
— Oh yes it is. And how would you call it?
— Let’s see… — sabulmantium !
Everyone cracked up at the word that Al had just blurted out. They had decided to have some distraction to alleviate the stress on the play, and they had a fun improvisation game, saying stupid things that went through their minds.
— Hey! Don’t laugh like that, it’s something very serious actually, said Al tongue-in-cheek. Let me see…
— Hahahaha, the others continued
— Well, it’s a divination device, or a sort of compass in a way. I see it as a globe made of glass, with coloured sands in it, and when you focus on it, the sands take all sorts of three dimensional shapes, and become alive…
— Wow! Tina couldn’t help but say. Leörmn, as Malvina had been telling him (or vice versa), had put the sabulmantium in one of the tunnels, to a place where he knew Arona would find it, and probably put it to good use for her future adventures.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Grandad! Grandad!, called India Louise to Lord Wrick, running in the old manor, her footstep making creaking and loud noises down the windy staircase.
Hilarion Wrick was seated in his favourite armchair, dozing after the hefty meal prepared by Nanny Gibbon, the cat Manfred on his lap.
Raising an eyelid, his cheerful wrinkled face smiled at the little girl.
— And how can I be of assistance, dear little one?
— Grandad, this book is full of wonders, but at times it’s like some characters have their own life, and I don’t always understand what they do… In fact, she added thoughtfully, I don’t understand them most of the time…
— Hahaha, laughed the old Lord, but they have certainly their own lives, as they are living in your imagination. What can I explain to you?
— Well, let me think.India Louise took a moment, and asked again
— For instance, this woman who just run in the cave, she seems to meet many people here, but I am confused. Is she dreaming, or are they real?
— Well, as a matter of fact, let me express to you that they are all real, even if you think that she dreams them. However, I am understanding of what you are saying, and I shall acknowledge your perspicacity. These characters are not all from the same areas of consciousness.Here, we will explain for the reader that these books were not unknown to Lord Wrick who had spent lots of time during his youth playing with them. How they were lost and found again is the subject of another story, and we will not divert the reader’s patient attention for much longer on this issue.
— Areas of consciousness?
— Yes, you see, let me explain. That individual that you call Dory, she is in a physical world. But she is aware, to an extent, of other realities that overlap her own reality. Just as her story overlaps your own reality my dear one.
— And Illi? Who is she?
— This one is also Dory, but another personality of her, in another time. She has just passed away, quite recently. She is beginning to slowly become aware of that, and she connects with other of her personalities, and at times blends with them, like the other Illi, the cat-like creature, who is still in the physical reality of Malvina’s world.
— Mmmm, this is quite intricate…
— Hahahaha, yes, it seems so, but it will not be so puzzling when you don’t try to attach your current limited perception to this story. This story is you my dear. You are the story.
— Well, and Sanso, and Georges then, are they dead or what? How come Dory can see them?
— These ones are special, they have mastered the crossing of the Worlds, and can move through them. They move differently though. Sanso comes from a lineage of an ancient tribe of Zion, and had learn from them how to activate some portals, but only through the physical world of Dory, in their own time. He is not yet aware that he can also move through time as well, or even through other Worlds —worlds that he has no conception of yet.Georges is more consummate in that art. Their meeting is not coincidental. You will see that.
— Thank you Grandad, it’s becoming a bit less confusing.
— Just flow with the story my little one, don’t hold on too much, or you will find it too difficult, and you will stop to find fun in it.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Speaking of dreams, Quintin suddenly remembered he had dreamed of a woman detective, by night, near a museum in London, in the 1920s. She was investigating a case of a strange disappearance near a small replicate of an Egyptian pyramid that had been put here for display. There had been an exposition of ancient artifacts in the museum, which had been recently unearthed by a team of archaeologists and graciously lent by Egypt’s officials.
Strangely enough, he felt the woman detective was linked to the story, and was in fact Dory. He could feel the other participants were people closely related to the woman too…
He didn’t really expect Dory would be giving him her two pence on this quaint dream…
—
Actually, thinking of Dory made Quintin remember a notepad photocopy that she had sent him last year when she had been in Madagascar for the first time, visiting some local caves. He never actually gave much thought to these funny drawings, but now they seemed to have some kind of interesting connection to all of this…In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Dory slept all the way to the cave, dreaming about being a traffic policeman. It was one of those never ending hopelessly chaotic dreams, in which small bits of progress were immediately cancelled out by an influx of more of whatever the problem was. The more she blew her whistle and ranted at the cars, the worse the cars became entangled.
You! You there, go THAT way! NO not that way…OY YOU! keep to the left…keep in line there keep in line…OY NOT THAT WAY!
Ususally in dreams like this Dory woke up in the middle of the frustration and chaos, but this time the dream changed course abruptly. Dory simply walked away from her podium in the middle of the busy Italian intersection.
Let them all go wherever they bloody well like, she said. Not my responsibility.
When Dory woke up, the van had arrived at the cave, she was feeling refreshed and cheerful, and was looking forward to her excursion inside the cave.
