ext_55789 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
one900.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2004-03-16 09:00 pm
one900.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-03-16 09:00 pm
(no subject)
Dreamer
PG-13
DM/EW
Hmm.
*
//Only when we break the mirror and climb into our vision//
He brushes his teeth and looks into the mirror fiercely, as if challenging this backwards Dom. Somewhere in the corners of his mind, he vaguely remembers having read a book where the protagonist stared at a mirror until her reflection blinked at her. He wonders if he can somehow climb through to the other side and sit there as his reflection, mimicking himself for the rest of his life.
Keeping his eyes trained forward, he leans over and spits foam into the grimy sink. When he cuts himself shaving, he doesn't bother to clean it up, leaving the dark red blots to fade into the blades.
*
//Only when we are the wind together streaming and singing//
He reaches out his hand and feels only wisps of air brushing against his fingertips. His palm looks unfamiliar; there isn't another hand covering the lined, weary skin. Closing his eyes, he pretends that his body is a desert, with hair like sand and hands like elegant spiders.
The wind washes over in waves and slowly erases him in thin layers.
*
//Only in the dream we become with our bones for spears//
His dreams are painfully real. High contrast, bright pictures that scroll across the backs of his eyelids. Primary colors blend together until he feels like he's drowning in cerulean blue. When he jerks himself back to reality, the blinds are still drawn and his hands are still clutching at cold, empty sheets. He twitches his fingers cautiously to reassure himself that he still has control over at least this part of himself.
*
//We are real at last//
His limbs feel waterlogged, as if he's been floating around in the ocean all day. Pillars of sunlight stand tall across the ceiling. He feels five tiny weights on his cheek and hears a whisper just as light.
"Wake up."
"Lij?" He sits up halfway and looks around.
He thought he'd be used to the ghosts by now.
*
//and wake//
*
Only when we break the mirror and climb into our vision
only when we are the wind together streaming and singing,
only in the dream we become with our bones for spears
we are real at last
and wake
- "The Provocation of The Dream"
*
PG-13
DM/EW
Hmm.
*
//Only when we break the mirror and climb into our vision//
He brushes his teeth and looks into the mirror fiercely, as if challenging this backwards Dom. Somewhere in the corners of his mind, he vaguely remembers having read a book where the protagonist stared at a mirror until her reflection blinked at her. He wonders if he can somehow climb through to the other side and sit there as his reflection, mimicking himself for the rest of his life.
Keeping his eyes trained forward, he leans over and spits foam into the grimy sink. When he cuts himself shaving, he doesn't bother to clean it up, leaving the dark red blots to fade into the blades.
*
//Only when we are the wind together streaming and singing//
He reaches out his hand and feels only wisps of air brushing against his fingertips. His palm looks unfamiliar; there isn't another hand covering the lined, weary skin. Closing his eyes, he pretends that his body is a desert, with hair like sand and hands like elegant spiders.
The wind washes over in waves and slowly erases him in thin layers.
*
//Only in the dream we become with our bones for spears//
His dreams are painfully real. High contrast, bright pictures that scroll across the backs of his eyelids. Primary colors blend together until he feels like he's drowning in cerulean blue. When he jerks himself back to reality, the blinds are still drawn and his hands are still clutching at cold, empty sheets. He twitches his fingers cautiously to reassure himself that he still has control over at least this part of himself.
*
//We are real at last//
His limbs feel waterlogged, as if he's been floating around in the ocean all day. Pillars of sunlight stand tall across the ceiling. He feels five tiny weights on his cheek and hears a whisper just as light.
"Wake up."
"Lij?" He sits up halfway and looks around.
He thought he'd be used to the ghosts by now.
*
//and wake//
*
Only when we break the mirror and climb into our vision
only when we are the wind together streaming and singing,
only in the dream we become with our bones for spears
we are real at last
and wake
- "The Provocation of The Dream"
*
no subject
Lovely.
no subject
your icon cracks me up, by the way. heh.