Dream

I was with a group of people - diverse. Did not know who they were. We arrived at a compound; there were people working at desks with computers, yet it seemed we were camping along side them. Soon, a phone rang, a screen lit up, and someone said, "Red Alert." Hustle and bustle; workers were shredding their identity cards. I shredded mine too, along with photos. Ethan was with me, even though I had not seen him there earlier and I was surprised, but thankful. I smiled at him, and then listened as the leader of the group (who resembled Patrick Stewart) gave a rousing speech about "doing the right thing when the time came, even if it meant life and death."

We were ushered out of the compound, and we were to be directed to an underground bunker to escape an impending threat. We had to make it to the bunker before dark, however darkness was quickly approaching. One of our group (one of the workers/crew and our would-be guide to the bunker) stopped to yell at congested traffic along the highway. He was transfixed on their still and silent faces, and couldn't be convinced to come with us. He ranted at them about being "stuck" and "doomed" but they did not respond. At that point, Ethan was pulling me along because I was getting distracted from our mission and it was getting dark. The leader shouted directions from afar, but we were in an unfamiliar place. We stumbled through the alleys and cobblestone streets until we arrived at a cemetery with a small group. Then we were rushed into a crypt by the leader and some of his crew - who were fending off large birdlike creatures with red glowing eyes. We ran in, pulled them in behind us after they had killed the creatures, closed the door... and waited silently.

When the threat lifted we were allowed to go back out, but as we emerged a man came up to the group looking for his little girl. He accused our group of harboring a criminal. Suddenly there were clues around us, all that pointed to the father as being complicit in his daughter's disappearance, but no one wanted to accuse him in front of his wife and other children who accompanied him. Instead, the father accused an innocent man in our group, but no one spoke up for this man. I wanted to scream, but no sound came from my throat. I watched as the group turned on the innocent man and pushed him out into the night to meet his fate with his accuser.

I began to wonder if the "Red Alert" had been a ruse to get us all to a small space, and the birdlike creatures a hoax and distraction from the true test - whether we would turn on each other to save ourselves.

When we arrived at the new bunker, there was no food to eat and people were hungry. Soon the leader handed out oranges to the group, but there were not enough for everyone and the leader and those who had helped him pick them were going to go hungry. I gathered up 3 oranges and handed them to the leader and said, "You are the one who worked for these... it isn't fair that you don't eat the fruit of your own labor."

Then I woke up.

Lighthouse

Eugene here.

The Girl has taken to dipping her paintbrush into her wine, so her newest pieces have a burgundy veil draped over them. I am letting her run the scarlet maze for just a little while. So I shall tell you a story.

I was away for a bit; The Girl needed space one night, but that night dragged on in ways only my wings could understand. The only space I know comes by wrapping myself in stars. The space of the ages... the space of golden triumph.

Alas, her heartbeat is deafening when it goes pounding through the Universe, far drowning out my fellow Champions' hooves. Her heart is a drum that shakes their glittering edges, and they always kneel to me and silently urge me to follow her sound.

So I journeyed back to her window and squeezed into the amber light of her studio, where she was dancing alone with my saddle, caressing it with her paint-stained fingertips. We spoke again of the days of olde, when the starlight still created luminous pave-stones for us to gallop along. Suddenly we were family again, separated by nothing. The room dissolved. We went flying.

That reunion of flight spawned a rebirth of our relationship. She told me how she'd recently broken free of her cocoon, and how there would be no more hiding her art away from the world. It was time.

We landed atop a lighthouse, and stared out into the darkness, not able to know where the sea met the sky. She said it didn't matter too much, because I could fly... and she could breathe underwater. Together, we were invincible.