It’s a secret, how she watches us– living each of our days, in and out of consciousness. She wonders if we notice her, staring kindly through our glassy windows and peering into each of our fast-asleep souls. She listens as quiet breathes escape our half-open mouths, like a silent language known by all. It’s our dreams that most interest her; she watches our eyelids flutter as our imagination paints silhouettes and blurred images. Some of our dreams overlap and intertwine; she takes the pieces and sews them together– a quilt of both vivid imagination and intimate memories to fold over the world. As a world, we dream. As a world, we imagine. As a world, we create and explore and live alternate lives in the unconscious. She keeps us extraordinary… Keeps us a little more than simply “human”.
In an eerie secrecy, it was the raven that landed on the water’s edge. Nudging its sharp beak into the dirt to appease the hunger pains, it sliced through the ground, divulging the pulsing earth beneath its soil disguise. Beside the raven, the red river gushed and gurgled in a silent agony. The crimson fell slowly down the hillside, whispering to the night all the pains it wished to wash away. These whispers, however, were lost among the brightness of the stars. The raven finished its repeated piercing, took a drink of red, satisfied, and flew away, cawing at the river’s endless cries.