Dream Web

It was a snowy dusk, dews of the gentle white lavished by the winds.

I was there, high up on the mountains – an isolated journey, shivering cold. Like a lost sheep wandering in confusion, longing to see its shepherd who would come for its rescue.

I struggled to walk; each step seemingly rubbed against the thick snows, as if it was the only way to move.

…clearly, it was going to be a difficult journey.

A sudden gush of wind blew, as the friendly snows of white turned against itself, commanding strength all over the mountains; covering the trees, rocks and hills.

Shivered, I shivered – so cold I barely stood still; I saw my own hands frozen, and my nose – iced. Staring into the air, I coughed and grasped for breath, slowly shaking – and fell as the world closed my eyes.

…..

I slowly regained my vision.

In front of me I saw two poles of yellowish brown, painted by freezing snows of coldness. One was at the other side of the alp far away.

Weakened, I approached the nearest pole, and looked above the stretch so high I could only see its body fading as the distance furthered.

Feeling its flesh, I grabbed the pole and started climbing. Climbing, never knowing what hides above the skies. This was a journey of advent, a journey awaiting to see the arrival of the keys to my life.

Despite its coldness and constant strong wind, with the flakes resisting my climbs, I kept moving my body upwards, each time carefully holding onto another level of pole.

…..until finally I reached, onto the top of the wooden plank.

It was dark, grey and gloomy above. Strong rains started falling, slapping itself onto my face, and lights of thunder roaring across the grey clouds.

I ran, despite the heavy downpour; towards the other mountain.

I ran again, nearing the destination.
… and gave a sudden stop, abruptly causing waters to splash when I reached.

Panting, and grasping in the rhythm of my heart beat – the presence of someone attracted my attention.

- it was the pontiff, the vicar of Christ; who sat on the floor, inside the small room, built only by the hands of the carpenters; all wooden brown.

“I’ve been expecting you, my child.” voiced the priest.

He was someone in his 70s, with wrinkled face and a pair squinting eyes, all dressed up in his robe, with a turban worn over his head, and a long tunic heading down his fine linen.

He gestured me to come nearer, and pointed below where he sat.

It was a piece of olden drawing, scribbled by the thousand years, with its edges torn and burned – it was a sketch of a star with six edges;

Was it a pentagram which signifies a satanic symbol, or was it the Star of David many have wondered?

“You will not remember this when awakened from your dreams, my child.”

These were the only clear words burnt into my mind, as though scribbled by the thousand years.

“Point to the path that you will choose, and all shall be revealed” said the Holy Father, who sat there staring at me, as though trying to tell me something – something beyond what I would understand.

I pointed, and laid my fingers onto an edge of the star – it started glowing, with green rays tearing an opening from the old paper. The thunder sounded, and roared once more as the rain fell much heavily against the glowing room.

The world was already changing, and the priest spoke in words beyond my imagination, so great I shook in fear, as he revealed the keys to my life. I tried so hard to remember all that was spoken, and all events that I will bring with me should I ever leave this world.

I tried….

…..