Post by Bastille Amtrum on Jun 22, 2012 20:35:59 GMT -8
Place-....
Dubois, Wyoming.
Time-....
6:45 am.
I woke up gasping for air like a drowning horse again. The campfire was burning its last embers beside me- so I assume it was the cold that shivered me out of my stupor. Don't know how I managed to fall asleep in the first place. My chest is screaming in pain- as per the usual thanks to the obscene lack of sleep. My head is numb by this point. I'm grateful to the cold for that. The bomber jacket is enough to warm me up since it was absorbing my head heat, but I unravel the blankets from my sack just to make sure I dont die of hypothermia. The snow only recently melted anyway. America sucked that way...you could never really tell what the hell was going on with the weather.
I was used to Britain...and truthfully I missed it. It had a short span of options in term of weather conditions and it was easy to figure out how to survive. But here...out in the middle of no where (which oh by the way is exactly where I want to be), it's different. So I wrap myself up, as it seems like the smart thing to do- and my body seems to enjoy it. Lord knows I've beat it up enough, what with the enormous tear in my stomach and the now half fake left leg. My body sinks into the warmth, and soon the horse is slipping back into the water. I only awake gasping a second later. The sun is rising...and that means it's time for me to get up. The horse I stole two weeks ago is munching on some grass already, and I feel too tired to be bitchy and disturb its meal.
So I turn to the sunrise over the hills. The distance shows some mountains, pink in the rising light- and some orange canyon stones rise from the floor of the wilderness. It desolate...but serene, and much what I'd picture heaven to be had I ever once believed heaven existed. Sure god...or something...but no heaven. Death was death.
My weary eyes strained a bit, watching the sun rise slowly in silence. It'd been a while since I had that dream. Ordinarily I kept myself from thinking in a coherent manner. Too many bad memories and too little of the good to fathom sanity. It's easier to let, what I've dubbed the 'witch' to take control and run the show. My emotions sink into the water and any interest in wrong or right dulls out.
But that dream, it always forces me to wake up like I was trapped in a sinking ship. Air never tasted so good in my throat, and the clean smell of it out here only made it more painful. I lusted after it for days and months- thanks to that dream. I could never get enough.
That's why I'd come all the way out here. To the middle of no where, made a camp fire and decided to travel cross country, breathing. Trying to run from that dream. I couldn't face it...I'd take it to my grave. Facing it...it was impossible.
My crimson eyes fell from the horizon towards my hand which was crusted in mud and blood. The dream always started the same way- my hand...and a train. I would be jumping from car to car, swinging swiftly inside. I'd get caught, they were waiting for me. I lost control, the battle broke out- I acted off instinct..I was winning- then he came in and ...anger...and then explosions and I found myself not on the dirt and sand under the hot sun like the memory went- but instead.....instead suddenly it was night time, and I was under the starry western sky. Some part of me tells me I would have done fine living on a ranch in the middle of cow town raising horses. I'm not the least bit American- so by cow town I mean sheep town somewhere up north in Scotland or maybe west in Wales.
But maybe here too. I could do it..but it would bore me. I have a gypsy soul...I know it. But still the stars plague my dream. I'm sitting on the dirt, someones arms are around me- holding me tight. I can't see his face...but my eyes fall to the ring dangling on the silver chain around my neck and I feel I know exactly who it is. I dont want to say. I go numb. Usually girls get angry or fussy or even insane...but I just go numb and sink in. Sure...sure I'll let this happen. This embrace...give him the thought he has me...then we will separate. My gypsy soul could be quelled perhaps by this man....but he wont try. I know it. And I smile at that....it's amusing either way. Why get sad over it? If this were a movie I'd be laughing. So I stare...numb...because no feeling hits me. Then suddenly it's hot, the heat gets to be too much. But I let the nuclear heat singe me into the dream further.
See, because I've ruined my brains perception of thought (thank you traumatic events and the witch side of my personality for that- too long to explain how), I feel in temperatures. My emotions are represented by how hot or cold I feel at the present moment. It's ideally not the right way to go about things, but I feel it works, for me.
The dream continues. I'm next in the desert, riding on the back of a bike and wearing my black bikini top to keep cool. My shirt is wrapped around my head and my goggles are strapped firmly to my face. I feel the heat swirling around me like water...just without the wetness, unless you count sweat which yay- i guess works too.
Someone is behind me, calling my name. At this point my brain is thinking this whole- not seeing the person I'm with is getting really old. But, it's a dream- so I let it go. I'm driving, and this is when the flashes start, I see memories- they're always different ones. But...it always ends on a small island. The house covers the entire span of it, and I'm sitting on the balcony. I'm not exactly sure who died behind me...but blood is pooling between the pillars of the railing and falling over the cliffs edge into the water. I stare at the see as the white curtains blow towards me. I'm dressed in a white t-shirt...too big for me, but....again...it's a dream. I'm wearing socks, but they're stained with blood. in my hand is a bushel of flowers...and I am alone. Aside from the dead person behind me, who I am positive is not anyone I have ever met, I am alone and the island has long since been deserted of it's owner. I sit here alone, having already explored to dark halls and the shambling mansion. I hear a voice, and I do not feel the fall, but suddenly I am being held by arms again...and at this point I'm really thinking- WHAT THE FU*K. REALLY? these bleeding arms again. If it wasn't for them this dream would be one intense acid trip but now it was just turning out to be over dramatic and waaaaay to artsy for my tastes.
But the strong arms hold me and we fall over the ledge- he's dragging me and I am content to stay. We are in the water and I am sinking...or...floating...something.....and then, (and get this, IT GETS EVEN MORE BLEEDING CHEESY) I'm in a flower field. Like the fields that surround Bathe...I'm warm and comfortable, and I feel like I might actually sleep, there against his chest, for the first time in what feels like centuries. I could spend all day feeling- THE THOUGHT which makes my awake self shiver with disgust. It's only when I begin to wake up do I notice I'm drowning, and I can't breathe.
So the horse was still eating. My crimson eyes stared at the sun, now fully in the sky. I stood and dusted myself off- preparing for yet another long day of riding. I guess the worst part is, is knowing who's arms are around me. It only adds to my intense desire to punch them in the face. It's just a dream...but now for the breathing bit. I need to find coffee-....so I jump on the horse (and western saddles are beyond uncomfortable) and look at the sunset. Definitely need coffee. I'll be heading back to the east coast...away from here- very very very far away from here.....back home maybe and everyone knows the Brit's suck at coffee.
[ooc: because I saw the scenery and was inspired]
Dubois, Wyoming.
Time-....
6:45 am.
I woke up gasping for air like a drowning horse again. The campfire was burning its last embers beside me- so I assume it was the cold that shivered me out of my stupor. Don't know how I managed to fall asleep in the first place. My chest is screaming in pain- as per the usual thanks to the obscene lack of sleep. My head is numb by this point. I'm grateful to the cold for that. The bomber jacket is enough to warm me up since it was absorbing my head heat, but I unravel the blankets from my sack just to make sure I dont die of hypothermia. The snow only recently melted anyway. America sucked that way...you could never really tell what the hell was going on with the weather.
I was used to Britain...and truthfully I missed it. It had a short span of options in term of weather conditions and it was easy to figure out how to survive. But here...out in the middle of no where (which oh by the way is exactly where I want to be), it's different. So I wrap myself up, as it seems like the smart thing to do- and my body seems to enjoy it. Lord knows I've beat it up enough, what with the enormous tear in my stomach and the now half fake left leg. My body sinks into the warmth, and soon the horse is slipping back into the water. I only awake gasping a second later. The sun is rising...and that means it's time for me to get up. The horse I stole two weeks ago is munching on some grass already, and I feel too tired to be bitchy and disturb its meal.
So I turn to the sunrise over the hills. The distance shows some mountains, pink in the rising light- and some orange canyon stones rise from the floor of the wilderness. It desolate...but serene, and much what I'd picture heaven to be had I ever once believed heaven existed. Sure god...or something...but no heaven. Death was death.
My weary eyes strained a bit, watching the sun rise slowly in silence. It'd been a while since I had that dream. Ordinarily I kept myself from thinking in a coherent manner. Too many bad memories and too little of the good to fathom sanity. It's easier to let, what I've dubbed the 'witch' to take control and run the show. My emotions sink into the water and any interest in wrong or right dulls out.
But that dream, it always forces me to wake up like I was trapped in a sinking ship. Air never tasted so good in my throat, and the clean smell of it out here only made it more painful. I lusted after it for days and months- thanks to that dream. I could never get enough.
That's why I'd come all the way out here. To the middle of no where, made a camp fire and decided to travel cross country, breathing. Trying to run from that dream. I couldn't face it...I'd take it to my grave. Facing it...it was impossible.
My crimson eyes fell from the horizon towards my hand which was crusted in mud and blood. The dream always started the same way- my hand...and a train. I would be jumping from car to car, swinging swiftly inside. I'd get caught, they were waiting for me. I lost control, the battle broke out- I acted off instinct..I was winning- then he came in and ...anger...and then explosions and I found myself not on the dirt and sand under the hot sun like the memory went- but instead.....instead suddenly it was night time, and I was under the starry western sky. Some part of me tells me I would have done fine living on a ranch in the middle of cow town raising horses. I'm not the least bit American- so by cow town I mean sheep town somewhere up north in Scotland or maybe west in Wales.
But maybe here too. I could do it..but it would bore me. I have a gypsy soul...I know it. But still the stars plague my dream. I'm sitting on the dirt, someones arms are around me- holding me tight. I can't see his face...but my eyes fall to the ring dangling on the silver chain around my neck and I feel I know exactly who it is. I dont want to say. I go numb. Usually girls get angry or fussy or even insane...but I just go numb and sink in. Sure...sure I'll let this happen. This embrace...give him the thought he has me...then we will separate. My gypsy soul could be quelled perhaps by this man....but he wont try. I know it. And I smile at that....it's amusing either way. Why get sad over it? If this were a movie I'd be laughing. So I stare...numb...because no feeling hits me. Then suddenly it's hot, the heat gets to be too much. But I let the nuclear heat singe me into the dream further.
See, because I've ruined my brains perception of thought (thank you traumatic events and the witch side of my personality for that- too long to explain how), I feel in temperatures. My emotions are represented by how hot or cold I feel at the present moment. It's ideally not the right way to go about things, but I feel it works, for me.
The dream continues. I'm next in the desert, riding on the back of a bike and wearing my black bikini top to keep cool. My shirt is wrapped around my head and my goggles are strapped firmly to my face. I feel the heat swirling around me like water...just without the wetness, unless you count sweat which yay- i guess works too.
Someone is behind me, calling my name. At this point my brain is thinking this whole- not seeing the person I'm with is getting really old. But, it's a dream- so I let it go. I'm driving, and this is when the flashes start, I see memories- they're always different ones. But...it always ends on a small island. The house covers the entire span of it, and I'm sitting on the balcony. I'm not exactly sure who died behind me...but blood is pooling between the pillars of the railing and falling over the cliffs edge into the water. I stare at the see as the white curtains blow towards me. I'm dressed in a white t-shirt...too big for me, but....again...it's a dream. I'm wearing socks, but they're stained with blood. in my hand is a bushel of flowers...and I am alone. Aside from the dead person behind me, who I am positive is not anyone I have ever met, I am alone and the island has long since been deserted of it's owner. I sit here alone, having already explored to dark halls and the shambling mansion. I hear a voice, and I do not feel the fall, but suddenly I am being held by arms again...and at this point I'm really thinking- WHAT THE FU*K. REALLY? these bleeding arms again. If it wasn't for them this dream would be one intense acid trip but now it was just turning out to be over dramatic and waaaaay to artsy for my tastes.
But the strong arms hold me and we fall over the ledge- he's dragging me and I am content to stay. We are in the water and I am sinking...or...floating...something.....and then, (and get this, IT GETS EVEN MORE BLEEDING CHEESY) I'm in a flower field. Like the fields that surround Bathe...I'm warm and comfortable, and I feel like I might actually sleep, there against his chest, for the first time in what feels like centuries. I could spend all day feeling- THE THOUGHT which makes my awake self shiver with disgust. It's only when I begin to wake up do I notice I'm drowning, and I can't breathe.
So the horse was still eating. My crimson eyes stared at the sun, now fully in the sky. I stood and dusted myself off- preparing for yet another long day of riding. I guess the worst part is, is knowing who's arms are around me. It only adds to my intense desire to punch them in the face. It's just a dream...but now for the breathing bit. I need to find coffee-....so I jump on the horse (and western saddles are beyond uncomfortable) and look at the sunset. Definitely need coffee. I'll be heading back to the east coast...away from here- very very very far away from here.....back home maybe and everyone knows the Brit's suck at coffee.
[ooc: because I saw the scenery and was inspired]
