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The Departure January 24, 2007

Posted by dreamweaver in Mysterious.

“NO!” – two large headlights came in such a sudden.

I gave out a terrified scream; piercing through the endless loud horn across the distance.


…a sudden blackout, and a shock moment of extreme pain.

I opened my eyes, searching through the dark tirelessly; in all pitch black, splattered with fear; as though hope never a thought….until my vision slowly regained, revealing the sight of my dislocated arm on the road – seeping with blood.

Agitated, I shivered and shook; as I tardily lifted myself up in a slow and confused manner, constantly looking towards the crowd amassed; people with disturbed looks on their faces, while some holding onto each other tight – a sight of chaotic mess.

There were many voices, many whispers, but none I knew of.

It was then that I saw, a body of a teenager, lying there helplessly in a pool of blood.

…….my body, there laid.


I was…looking for someone, someone across the street. It all happened too fast. It all happened too fast.

“Hey I’m here, I’m here you all!” – “I am still alive! Why can’t you save me!?” – in anger and anguish I scorned the crowd. I felt so helpless; needles of pain and regrets started filling with remorse as I ran towards them.

I ran, tears always flowing behind me as I vigorously opened my hand to grab the crowd; in that very instance of touch I longed, its motion slowed to a halt – and saw my hand went through them.

“Why can’t you save me?! Why?!” …..”Why?!” – I gashed my teeth, with uncontrollable tears rolling down my cheeks as I cried and shouted.

The world that I once lived, the green grasses and the laughter of white skies that was once so close; is now a distance of past.

As though I could see, but no longer tell about it.
feel, not through my heart;
and hear, though it doesn’t matter anymore to understand;

These feelings of warmth touches,
are now but within the barriers of death.


My soul was suddenly in a place near my family members, my house and my home.

I was looking at them, caressing their faces, whispering into their sleepless nights. Tears were the only comprehensible words spoken, as they knew death cannot fall apart.

… until one of them consulted the shamans.

Shamans revealed spirits that bring the wandering souls of the restless back into the world, through a pact of blood. Always hungry for flesh, they must be fed regularly to serve. However, it must be done within 7 days before the body fully decomposes.

…except for a myth that wasn’t mentioned; those who are summoned by these necromancers would no longer be themselves..instead of living the freedom once given by the Originator, these revived souls are bound to live solely by the blood of the deceased….and an eternity in blazing hell should they no longer receive.

Stubbornly, each night at 12am, blood taken from animals were offered on a plate, in front of a red altar near the tombs; unbeknownst to which spirit it may attract, hoping for my soul to return.

The place was reddish in color, one could clearly feel the evil spirits that lurk around. Dusts, debris and howling wind constantly moves, with an unmanning aura.

It was then I saw.. the faceless figures in hoods, dark and cold. They were tall; giving me a lifeless look, the very look of death itself that has come upon me.

Answering no questions; one of them raised their scythe and drew near me in utter silence. They are here…

….. I’m not coming back anymore.


Grandma’s Tale December 18, 2006

Posted by dreamweaver in Reflection.

It all happened, as if the days never moved.

Dreams of the past; touched by familiar mortals, flowing through time.
…as though they made them stop, and let you truly feel for once, in your life.

Grandma is a gentle women, always showering life in simplicity; She loves music, has a wonderful heart of kindness, touching those who needed it, at all times.

A cheerful life, and a magic smile; life’s so great whenever she’s around.

….but there she is now, lying on the bed helplessly, with vines of hallow tubes seemingly endless, injected onto her frail body. Her soul now restrained by the life’s support system – She is diagnosed with cancer; the casteless undertaker.

“Grandma!”; I echoed in despair.

Grandma – Grandma!”; I was running, running in a dark room in tears towards her.

I could hear my own footsteps, resonating through the pitch black room, with images of our past – the sharing we had, the crying I wept, and the joyful moments of our lives, giggling through time.

“I never had a chance to show you how much I loved you, grandma!” tears rubbing against my cheek as they flew behind me in motion.

The room changed, back into how it was a year ago, back to the day she slept there tiredly looking, the day when I brought the flowers for her, slowly walking by taps in my office suit.

It was a beautiful banquet of flowers – white, purple roses and small red petals, with long light green stems and ribbons; a wrapping so awe and passionate, knowing their very soul existence was to appease the receiver.

….but these beauties are meant only for the eyes of the beholder; she could no longer see. She was already withering, her life fading, as though the years of yonder is finally coming to an end.

There were chatters among the physicians, and nurses who seemed to compel to their orders, moving about in the room; all imaged with shadows.

They shouted, and they rushed to save as the beeping of life slowly passed.

…. to an end.

I saw her, lying on her death bed.

There were tears among everyone, all trickling down our cheeks as we hugged.

I saw her, inside her cradle – the cradle of life, slowly being lowered into the grave as flowers floated above her, slowly resting onto her casket.

I was suddenly in the dark room again, with her inside the ward.

“Nelson.” I heard her voice calling for me.
“Nelson don’t worry, we all have to leave earth some day.”

I ran towards her again, finally reaching as her voices faded.

… and there I saw her; she was holding the beautiful banquet of roses.

Holding it tight, as she now rests…. in peace forever.

The Poles of Advent December 14, 2006

Posted by dreamweaver in Mysterious.

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….


The Big Whoop December 12, 2006

Posted by dreamweaver in Calm.

I was in my present state, coming to mid 20s.

An orange colour of evening, as the sun begins to fall behind the horizons.

The town was nothing but a lonely place, surrounded by buildings from my past.

Obvious cracks were seen, and the place, deteriorating.

As my lonely steps slowly walked along the gloomy town of evening, one particular old building that I knew as a child was given a facelift, into a nicely painted walls of cream, with its dimmed orange lights, giving an aura of peace.

Staring onto the sight of how many years it’s been since I last visited this place, a teenager in his early years walked towards my direction, facing down. As if he was lost in the meaning of life.

“Hey, hi!” I blurred. “Oh, hello.”

We proceeded to introduce ourselves, and how I talked much about the nice building earlier as our pace moved slowly.

I looked, and there it was, a long stretch of metal fence, seemingly endless. Touching its surface, I pressured my fingers as I grabbed onto its metal. I took a deep breath and gave out a sigh as I peered below..

Little did I know what lied beneath me – it was a big whoop. A big fish, leaning flat onto the surface beside a big drain, way below where I stood. Then I realised how far a distance we were apart from where I was. A distance so great, that for a moment I thought we were in two worlds.

Two worlds indeed.

I quickly looked towards the side of the fish from above, and there, children, parents and neighbours all gathered; in a place so dark, shocked, and awed at the sight of the fish, with a size never before seen in human history.

…. and it was still breathing.

They started pushing with all their might, trying their very best to move the dying fish, which’ve struggled to survive even at its very last hours; with a dry tear – its life slowly withering.

I gazed once again, in amazement. It wasn’t the amazement about the size of the whoop, but the unity among humanity, so long have I desired, which’ve been long gone. I knew this was all we needed to arise once again in our lives.

Indeed, hope came true, and they finally moved the fish back into the drain, as it swarm and swarm vividly beyond our imagination, a sight of wonderful hope arises from beneath, towards the orange evening that was once lonely.

“Well, that’s really something huh?” I uttered to the other guy who stood there watching the whole scene with me.

It was already getting quite late, the sun, slowly pacing itself into darkness.

I bid farewell to the new friend, and started walking again, perhaps this time, to a destination.