Dream Sequence
Dream 2: Anansi the Spider and the Dreamcatcher
Dream 2: Anansi the Spider, and the Dreamcatcher
A voice from the speaker spoke calmly but firm. “Cheyenne Lightfoot your dream story. Please.” The voice came from the moderator of the Dream Study she and seven other participants signed up for in anticipation of receiving a generous monetary award. Cheyenne had just gulped the entire bottle of spring water after gobbling down a slice of decadent ‘to die for’ chocolate cake off the refreshment table. Her mouth was full as she pleaded for more time with the voice which appeared to be quite annoyed. “Miss Lightfoot, you are late and unprepared. Should I call on someone else?” With a muffled voice, Cheyenne begged for forgiveness. “I'm so sorry. I'm ready now. That chocolate cake was soooo delicious.” Cheyenne smacked her lips, wiped her mouth with the soiled napkin and plunged into the details of her dream. “At the beginning of my dream, I sat in the center of a circle of ten toddlers with my legs crossed like a fried chicken wing.” She cleared her throat and continued when no one laughed. “I was telling them the legend of the dreamcatcher. Once upon a time, a grandmother was sewing and doing cross stitching or maybe it was needlepoint.” Cheyenne shrugged her shoulders. “Her grandson stopped by with some food. He noticed a spider and was about to squash him when his grandmother stopped him. In turn for saving his life, the spider wove a web which would catch all the good and bad dreams, but only the good ones would come through the web and drop down through the feathers. From that point on, the tribes made dreamcatchers to protect the sleeping children. I held up a dream catcher to show the children how powerfully crafted it was. Can you see? Here, the spider’s web catches all the dreams both good and bad. The beads represented the seven directions called upon them to bless you. Good dreams flowed through the webbing and reach the feathers down to all of you while you're sleeping. Are we ready to make dream catchers?” I asked them. In my dream I sat them down in the art room and provided them with all the materials they needed to make dreamcatchers. I gave them colorful beads, feathers, strings, one wide circle which represents Mother Earth, four smaller ones used to enhance the largest circle. I walked around the tables helping out any child who needed assistance. They were having a lot of fun. So was I. Until everything went south. Suddenly, a loud booming crash was heard outside of the room. All the lights went out. ‘Hello, I think that's dumb. Who turned out the lights? You’re scaring us! I mean, the children.’ The children stopped their crafts and began running in circles. I calmed them down. Some pulled at my clothes, some hid behind me, and others cried out, mommy I need you. I think I was the one yelling mommy. I said to the children, don’t worry I'll protect you. I turned the lights on and said, ‘Everybody, follow me to the back door’. I gathered and herded all the children to the back door where all their parents and guardians were miraculously waiting. As soon as I turned back around, the intense stare of two red eyes from the back of the art room pierced my very being. I still had the dreamcatcher in my hand, and it surprised me when I heard a small voice. I looked down at the center of the dreamcatcher and noticed a spider. It was not just any old spider; it was Anansi the spider of African folklore fame. Anansi is a great trickster who professes than no matter how small you are, you can think to outwit your greatest enemy. Anansi whispered, ‘don't move. Any sudden moves will be seen as a threat.’ In my dream, a bad dream surfaced and escaped from the center of the dreamcatcher. The sun’s rays were overcome from the tremendous number of bad dreams the night before and a demon slipped through the vortex and now it was after me. Anansi told me that no weapon would be strong enough to defeat the demon. He also told me that I had to find a way to fool him. ‘How do I fool a demon?’ I asked him. ‘I don't know’, Anansi said with a gleam in his eye, ‘How do you?’ Anansi chuckled and continued, ‘I would offer him a reason for not destroying me.’ I asked him, ‘what do I have to offer?’ ‘Hmmm’, Anansi said, ‘you really don't have to offer him anything. You have to make him think that you're offering him something that he desires.’ ‘Umm, I know what I can offer him…my soul.’ Well, Anansi said, ‘that's quite a valuable commodity. Are you sure you want to offer it?’ ‘It's just an offer.’ I said. ‘I intend to keep my soul forever.’ I approached the demon ready for the negotiations of a lifetime. My lifetime at least. I gathered up my courage and marched toward the demon holding the dreamcatcher close to my chest. ‘How dare you approach me You are but a mere human.’ The demon grumbled. ‘Yes, but I know you want something from me…unbelievably valuable…my soul. I have an offer…’ Just that quickly in an instant, in a blink of a red eye, Anansi hopped from the dreamcatcher to the demon and bit him leaving a venomous toxin that devoured the insides of the demon. He imploded immediately. ‘What! Anansi, why didn’t you tell me your plan? You let me risk my life to defeat a demon when all you had to do was bite it?’ ‘Well,’ Anansi said rubbing his hind legs. ‘I needed you to distract the demon. Teamwork is the best plan. I needed you and you needed me. Your soul is intact. Check one. I remain unsquashed. Check two. One demon defeated. Checkmate.’
Cheyenne looked out into the sea of faces and plopped down in her multi-colored rocking chair after releasing a long breath. “I’m making me a dreamcatcher today…I’m gonna need to dream about cute kittens and puppies tonight. That dream was intense. And I’m exhausted.” The dream study group broke out in laughter and congratulated Cheyenne for a story well told.
Suddenly, a loud crashing boom silenced the room. One of the legs on the refreshment table had collapsed. Everyone scrambled to keep the desserts from hitting the floor. “Whatever you do, save that chocolate cake. Whoever saves it can have my soul,” Cheyenne shouted. Everyone laughed and sat down again in anticipation of the next dream story.
Next up Dream 3: The American Dream
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Dream Sequence
Policy Pete's Dream Number’s Book Eight strangers formed a wide circle around the center of the room. There were no windows, bare walls, and subdued amber light. The room temperature was a moderate seventy-two degrees. David Kensington sat in the center of the Queen Anne’s chair reminiscent of his grandmother’s gold upholstered reading chair. He used to watch his favorite programs in her room when his four brothers and three sisters refused to let him watch what he wanted. He was the youngest and the last child to get his say. So, he always ran up the flight of twenty odd steps to the third floor and knocked softly on his grandmother’s bedroom door. He could watch whatever he wanted while she smiled up from her Agatha Christie paperback and enjoyed his company. David scanned the room. He was observing the seven other people. Wondering what they had in common. Dreams, he thought silently. Our dreams. Someone sat perched on the edge of their seat., others were relaxed and comfortable, and the rest appeared comatose or sleep. A soft calm voice from the speaker located in the far upper right corner of the ceiling greeted the strangers. It thanked them again for being punctual and congratulated them for being selected for the unique dream study. At the end of the session, you will be awarded a generous cash payment for your participation. It asked if anyone had any questions and when no one responded the voice said, “David Kensington, you may begin with Dream One.” David squirmed in the comfortable chair and cleared his throat. He pushed up from the chair and walked over to the refreshment table grabbing a bottle of spring water and a granola bar. He took a sip from the bottle and walked casually back to his seat. “Should I tell you all about my dream?” “Yes, Mr. Kensington, if you would begin. We will start with you. Dream One.” “Well, I'm a city boy. I grew up in a rowhouse located in the heart of the city not far from the Inner Harbor and downtown. When I thought about my dream, I remembered that my grandmother playing numbers. She always had a dream book and when she dreamed about certain things like a pair of old shoes, running from a stranger, a cup of hot chocolate. It could be anything. Sometimes it was even a number. Almost every adult in our neighborhood played numbers on the street. And if your number came out, you won money. When I grew up, I did research on the numbers. Many people had dream books they referred to. In fact, I looked up the dream book on the website and I found Policy Pete's dream book written in 1933. Now Pete lived in Harlem, New York and he had a book that you could refer to for help in picking the perfect number. It coincided with anything that you dreamed about though. I looked and looked through that book, but I couldn't find any number for an old barn. 647 is the number for tractor though. He laughed, There’s a tractor in my dream.” “Mr. Kensington, the voice interjected, we’re waiting to hear about your dream.” “Oh, my bad. I almost forgot. As I was saying, I grew up in the city. There weren't many trees or other forms of greenery in my neighborhood. A lot of dirty white concrete, dusty brown bricks, and pasty gray cement. But I remembered that my mother planted sunflowers in the backyard and those flowers were beautiful. They had humongous yellow petals with brown centers. Hey, they were almost taller than me. It was very surprising that I had a dream about a farm. In my dream I remember seeing chickens and pigs, cows, and goats. There were about six or seven horses grazing at the top of the hill. The sky was as blue as the bluest blueberries. The air was fresh, and you could just breathe it in enjoying the sweet nectar. There was a slight breeze blowing and the sun warmed your body like a thin cotton blanket. The pungent smells of the farm contrasted with the horrible smells of the city like the car exhaust and the factory smoke. In the middle of the farm set a large old red barn. Sing so far away. I wondered where everybody had disappeared to because early in the morning most people who lived on a farm were awake doing farm chores. Of course, I knew nothing about what they did. I only read about it. Milking the cows, slopping the pigs, feeding the chickens and goats, and grooming the horses. In my dream, I couldn't feel my legs after a while, and I realized I was sweating buckets of stale liquid. The walk was getting difficult because the barn was situated at the top of the hill. The more I walked, the further it appeared. I stopped, put my head down, placed my hands on my knees and took a few quick breaths. I inhaled and exhaled several times before I continued my journey. The old barn on closer speculation was brand new. It didn't quite fit in with the rest of the scenery. It looked as if someone had just built it or placed it there for ambiance because everybody knows you need an old barn on a farm. I mean there were tractors and other farming equipment and the animals so it wouldn't be right if there wasn’t a barn.” David continued while the others looked at him incredulously, some with questions reflected in their eyes. Someone shouted, “Just get on with it. Listen the suspense is killing me.” Yeah, someone else chirped in, “What’s in the stupid old barn?” “Oh. Ok, I'm sorry. I just recalled and recollected the details in my dream. You know how if you don't do that as soon as you wake up, you'll forget everything. Of course, I didn't forget anything. Now I was in front of the barn. There were no knobs only a board across the two wide doors. I tried to lift the wooden bar and secured with unknotted dangling rope which hung from the other door. The doors were extremely heavy. I wasn't sure I could lift them. I held my breath and gathered up some residual strength. I finally was able to push the door open. I slowly stepped in and noticed that the barn had windows but no light from the outside illuminated it. There was a huge crowd of people standing in the dimness of the interior. Some were sitting on the bales of hay. As I approached them, their eyes signaled me with expressions of trepidation, maybe fear. Some made hand gestures as if they cautioned me to stop. Although no one made a sound. It was quiet and still. The air inside was stuffy still and thick. Something in the back of the bar loomed over the crowd. Pairs of round spheres appeared motionless in the backdrop at the top of the barn’s highest point. I wasn't sure if I should continue or turn around and run.” David blew out a deep breath. “So, what did you do?” someone shouted from the circle. “Yeah, what happened?” another voice yelled. The room grew energetic with the sounds of anxious voices. The hum and the buzz of the crowd grew intense. A few of the strangers headed for the door. The voice interjected, “Everyone please quiet down. Calm down and remain seated. Mr. Kensington, finish your dream, please.” David stood up. He threw up his hands and frowned. “I don't know what I did, David said, I woke up.”
By Saja Bo Storm3 years ago in Fiction
The Historical Stones
The ancient standing stones of Callanish, rising like crosses against the sky, have become a beacon in Saint Augustine's mission to spread Christianity throughout Britain. While tradesmen, immigrants, and legionaries from Rome had introduced Christianity to Britain by the late third century, it failed to take root. But as Rome crumbled under poor leadership and misguided ambition, another power rose—Christianity. Unlike Rome's armies that imposed their will with swords, monks spread their message with kindness and conviction, wielding no weapons except their faith.
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