Vorpal Sword 1/3


25 August 2012

It didn’t feel like falling asleep. It really felt more like rolling over and falling off the edge of the world. This was not my usual transition into dreaming. I remember that my mind followed the feeling of motion, into a dream-body of mine as the waking world was suddenly and completely shut out. That was a little disconcerting: I had been ready for bed, but had been fully awake only a moment ago. What if this happens again while I’m walking in the middle of the road, or cooking something with real fire, or something?

I was in some room lit up everywhere by this steady red glow from the walls. I’d seen this red glow before, once, years ago, during one of the first nightmare sleep paralysis experiences where I also sort of went out of body. I never figured out exactly what it signaled, but take it as something unpleasant and out of the ordinary. The room—that appeared more like a mix of my childhood home and the apartment I had just fled—was filled with giant black beetles, swarming the walls and around a silhouette in the corner. I could make out a humanoid figure, with two horns curved upwards.

I mentioned before that I have a couple of dream weapons, the larger of which I use for larger-scale battles–a white-handled katana that I named Mercy. So, I used it now, slashing across things, building up the energy in the sword to blast out clouds of white ball-lightning… those cool stunts that usually end in a satisfactory victory and I don’t dream of those enemies again, at least, not for a long while.

For this battle, though, they wore me down. There were so many of them, the beetles, and they just kept coming, and while I could keep them at bay I noticed that my efforts were keeping them less and less bay-bound. And… I didn’t want them scuttling on my skin. I mean, eeurgh. So, I decided to fly out the window instead. The scene outside was of a peaceful night, over my childhood neighborhood. So, by then I must have been dreaming. The red-light critters didn’t follow me, it was like they were really confined to my room in the dream of my old neighborhood.

28 August 2012

Since then, I’ve dreamed of leprechauns, Spanish donuts dipped in hot chocolate, a castle of my own with sparkly violet stonework everywhere, Snow White from ABC’s TV series Once Upon A Time discussing lace lingerie with the one-eyed aunt from Pushing Daisies on a long pedestrian bridge between the fairytale land and the real world* (you could see the cities), and ballet dancing with emerald green pointe shoes. That has nothing to do with anything.

The dream that does having something to do with the previous one, was of me walking around the mall where the waking life, corporeal person that I was upset with, moved me to tears with his verbal bullying, all these months ago. In the dream, in almost exactly the same spot of that humiliating waking-life event, I found a sword stuck in the ground.

I pulled it out and just kind of decided “finders keepers.” It was almost like a rapier, long, thin, and double-bladed, with a black hilt, the bottom half of which was inlaid with gold squiggles that looked to me like narrow wreathes of flame.

29 August 2012

Seriously, though: in waking life, the only thing I really know about swordfighting is that the blunt end goes in your hand, and the pointy sharp end goes into your attacker.

So, sometime later– just now woke up from what I’m about to describe, as a matter of fact– still non-lucid, I just spontaneously dreamed of barging back into that red room with all of the beetles, and holding ready with my brand new (unnamed) sword.

This time, all the beetles (which were still there) just stopped moving. They weren’t dead, they just sort of all turned to see, but didn’t attack. And if they aren’t attacking… I don’t want to. So none of us moved for several awkward moments. I don’t know if this had anything to do with anything, but the horned figure was nowhere to be seen. Eventually, I relaxed a bit, and sort of got the impression that the beetles were waiting for my order, because they saw my new sword, or something.

But we remained at an impasse until I woke up.

Considering that this all converges towards that person who I had been so upset with, I’ve considered commanding all of the beetles to swarm and torment that corporeal waking-life person, but since I’ve fought the beetles before, and that was unpleasant, I reconsidered if I really have that much hatred. But then I figured, this was all much too well-tailored to my psyche, so I might as well do it because it would make me feel slightly better and have no ill effects on that other person really.

30 August 2012

I dreamed of that room again, this time with the horned thing present, and I called across the room to it–just out of curiosity, it wasn’t a challenge–asking if it liked my new sword. It responded by shooting giant grubs and maggots at me from its midsection. They were slow, but definitely aggressive, so even though I felt bad about killing what I essentially understood to be babies… I hacked at them and the pieces didn’t move. And the horned thing kept shooting more at me, which I just cut in half in mid-air while I ran towards him. The closer I got, the more frequently it shot, until I stabbed at the shadowy part where I hoped would be under the rib (since it was humanoid-shaped) and into the heart. Then I swung upwards, because the ribcage if it had any bones, was that frail, so that I essentially sliced the upper half in vertical half. And then it exploded. When I set the sword down in the ground, because it didn’t have a sheath, it made a bubble around me… just as a few of the beetles flew into it, because they’d been trying to fly at me, because they were all angry again. I told them that whatever I just killed, it was its own fault, because I was just trying to have a conversation.

07 September 2012

The rapier remained unnamed, and I had been feeling an aversion to using it. I haven’t needed to use it, and it is definitely more effective than my katana, perhaps because I found it in the depths of my psyche instead of forging it at a conscious, lucid, ineffective level of personal experience.

Whenever I expected it to be present, whether in a dream or in waking life or somewhere in-between, there it would be. When I forgot that I had one, it wouldn’t be anywhere. When I had it, I would also consistently feel it: the thirst of its blade, the scream of its presence, and the nigh inviolable shape of its protective bubble. That wasn’t something my katana did.

I’d been play-training with its bubbles since then, in waking life, visualizing myself sticking the sword point in the ground and seeing if I could make a blue bubble, a black bubble, a white bubble, make it spiky… It was fun, and I could actually feel protection working on another level.

For all its inspired efficiency, it bothered me that I had no name for it, and that it had no sheath. If I thought up of either, it would just feel wrong.




* On the 22nd of August 2014, I had deja vu for this exact dream while walking this bridge overpass from a rail transit line that I had only just discovered. Snow White wasn’t there, the aunt from Pushing Daisies wasn’t there, fairytale land wasn’t there, the ocean beneath the bridge wasn’t there, and the city was different…but, the bridge was exactly the same. It was like a two-and-and-half-minute deja vu moment.