Remembering dreams has never been a problem for me. At the age of 14 I taught myself the art of lucid dreaming. This came about after a few years of constant nightmares and a day off school watching TV, but I digress, that’s a story for another time. Over the past few months I’ve had, what I can only describe as, a voyeur of my dreams. I have become slowly aware of being watched! Too many Stephen King novels, I hear people say. You can never read too many Stephen King novels so I kicked that idea right out of the water. Anyway, I’ve not had much time to read as of late so I know that wasn’t the answer.
Instead of being frightened of this visitor I was very curious. He became more visible over time or maybe my awareness of him gave him more substance? I can’t see his face yet I can feel the pull of his personality. At first I thought it was my husband as he shares personality traits with him, one of which is how he watches me, taking in what I do. It sometimes maddens me how I think he’s not paying attention but he is. It’s as if I’m the centre of his world and he needs every memory of me to store away for when we are not together. That’s how intently this figure watches me but he’s sad, disappointed and sometimes he walks away into the shadows of my subconscious.
This has gone on for over a month, not every night as a lot of the time I don’t dream. However, every time I do, he’s there. One day last week I noticed he wasn’t alone. Others had come along with him. I couldn’t make out who they were. Some were nothing more than dark shadows, some I could tell if they were a man or woman but never a face, only the feeling of loneliness and disappointment. They never conversed with each other, they simply watched. If I approached they would walk away and out of sight. Until the other night!
You know how odd dreams can be, flitting through one scene to another in the blink of an eye. Yep, the usual stuff. I couldn’t put my finger on anything specific until I found myself heading towards the people on the periphery of my mind. Their now familiar feelings stuck to me like mud, slowing my movements and collecting a heavy fog around me. I remember shaking my head and saying out loud “no”. The lucid dreaming trick I learned all those years ago began to work and my dream drifted back to the random flicking through my thoughts.
I must have gone into a deeper sleep because the next thing I was aware of was someone gripping my wrist! I was in a dense forest. The sun, somewhere up above gave a week glow through the trees and mist. The callused and weather worn hand gripped mine hard. For a fleeting moment I was afraid to look. His hold slackened and he stepped back. His dark clothes gave nothing away; I didn’t look up but followed his hand as he pointed to the trees. Amongst the spooky trunks and twisted branches I could see the people again. I felt I had been given an invitation to figure them out so I looked closer. I began to recognise them, not family as I had first supposed, no. Their clothing was straight out of a fantasy book! My fantasy books! I looked back at the man who had grabbed me. I knew only one such character who would have the audacity to do that to me.
He stood tall, over six feet, his wavy blond hair fell over his shoulders, his cloak hid his clothing but I could see the hilt of a sword, one I had written about many times. He said nothing as he stepped away towards the trees and waiting figures. It was Stewart, the warrior I had created to support Lynwen in Dark Magic Rising. His story was not yet compete. I looked closer at the figures in the trees. Sash’ha dropped her sword on the floor, her expression burning into me! I know her pain, I know the significance of the dropped sword and I knew the answers, they were written in pen, still waiting to be typed up! Faces of other characters drifted through my subconscious; Ayva, a young Clah’hen sister, Faith’hane of the Royal guard and Rosh’hane! The first figure I’d seen had been him, a key character in Your Embrace and the Alhanassa Chronicles. He tilted his head and pleaded with his eyes. His quiet but compelling personality once again hit me hard! I’d left his story half finished. I knew how his story panned out. I knew of his trials and his accomplishments, his joys and the heartache he so often felt. Just like Kohinora, I began to fall into the depths of his green eyes.
I woke with my heart pounding in my chest. I sat in the dark thinking of the people I’d created, their back stories and their future. I felt responsible for their well being! Turning the light on I sat and thought of what I’d seen and felt.
Since the release of Dark Magic Rising I’ve given my attention over to many other projects and only now and then choosing to visit the world I created. Why was I not writing? The main reason is simple. I had lost my voice! Or so I thought… But it’s not my voice I need to write about; it’s the characters I created and their lives, their future! I hope the next time I see them in my dream, they will be smiling.