posted on Nov, 11 2013 @ 07:24 PM
I have a recurring dream. I think it relates to an event in my youth; it’s difficult to tell with absolute certainty; I’ve seen many
wonderful and horrible things, and my time is at an end. Will it be a rebirth, or just a slow fading of my essence, my spark, until I’m just an
empty husk, useless and forgotten?
I don’t sleep as well as I used to, and even in my increasingly infrequent periods of rest, I dream of frightening things. In my dream, I am
reaching out to my children, but they draw back, as if I’m a stranger – unwelcome, unknown and unpredictable. They are afraid of my death, and
their own, and perhaps in some small way, blame me for not being the raging warrior I once was, who nurtured them and protected them from harm. Is
it true? Do my offspring forsake me? I would do anything…… ANYTHING .. to protect them.
Ah, but children, what do they know, but the wonder of growth and laughter and frivolous things. I have sacrificed much to help them mature, and I
wouldn’t change a thing, even if I could. Those are questions for the Creator to wrangle; questions of my own have not been forthcoming, but
only tantalizingly teasing hints for my intuitions to ponder. The Creator seems both distant and close, but ever elusive when I’ve attempted to
examine it directly.
My resources were so low…… I had to borrow from my neighbors, though they hadn’t much to spare from their own responsibilities. Culture of
my species talks of a clarity – a brightening – toward the end, where one sees all things clearly and true, and I wish for that spark, though it
may signal my end. I have been foundering in a cloud of uncertainty for so long. I have seen many of my children die and no parent should have to
survive such a thing. I am no longer lean and fit, and my increased size and weight disgust me. I am tired, and grow wearing of the seemingly
endless days of waiting.
Weep not for me…….. I’ve had a good life. Though these musings may seem morose and depressing, but I still enjoy a lightness, a freedom of
form and a sense of wonder and satisfaction. Stay with me for a while, if you choose, and I’ll ponder my sins, and my joys, and then the record
will be finished.
I was born in a time of conflict and strife and there was death and rebirth and chaos -- so many reactions and convolutions and uncertainty. When I
was yet a wean, marauders from outside invaded, killed and consumed my kin. I was horrified, naturally, but also grew up faster than my time would
dictate and learned to fortify my walls and to keep my strength up for the next battle, wherever it should be. I was alone, and well, lonely.
Then, she came. Ahh, she was the light in my heart and I loved her. I love her still, though she has gone before me. We sired children, and
they flourished. We danced together, and our family grew – some having offspring of their own. We hunted together for game to feed our
children, and the game was abundant, and for a long time, our combined love shined for all to see. The Creator had surely smiled upon us all and we
were fulfilled and content and wanted for nothing.
She didn’t want to tell me, not wanting me to worry, but I knew, and eventually she confessed to a heaviness deep inside her, a mass that she could
not exorcise that caused her to gasp with the pressure of it. We prayed for her to be healed, but it was not the will of the Creator. Her skin
became so light, and she collapsed, wracked with an interal fever. I could do nothing to help her, but comfort her until the end.
Weep not for me…… I have had a full and bountiful life, and as any creature or entity in the universe will tell you, the gift of love is worth
dying for; the gift of love is eternal and though I don’t know what will happen after my own demise, I know in my heart she will be there, shining
and engulfing me with her nurturing fire.
She expanded to the limits of my awareness, leaving a token of herself to comfort me. That’s just like her – always thinking of everyone but
herself. I can’t wait to join her. Her body is very, very tiny now, and no longer visible to the beings that have formed on our children’s
surface. She is incredibly massive for her size, and her tug against my influence is comforting. Some of the beings who once observed her can no
longer detect her spirit, but characterize her as a “neutron star”. She is much, much more than that, even in death.
I hear her in my private moments when I ask questions to the cosmos, and I feel a comfortable massiveness gathering in my core. I have things to say,
yet there are none to listen; it is the message of ages, which men asked of angels, then forgot the answers. I know my questions – all of them
– will soon be answered, and we will both again shine for all time, together.
I am ready.