dream interpreter – Part 1 : 71-74


On the darkening forest floor, rising,
falling, a path emerged from lichen,
rock and moss. Dusk caught them by
surprise, as the tree canopy shielded

them from the hard rain coming down
on the forest trench. Mountains were
straight ahead, a sheer wall bringing
the run of the steppe to a sudden halt.


Their forest fears projected ill feeling
onto the gaps in light and shade among
the trees. Bright rapid-fire lightning
clawed its way through the foliage.

In the empty space, each of the four seekers
found known patterns, a shape of shadows,
voices rising from their forgotten traumas;
the adventures of the mind are never still.


The sky was low, thundering with gloom.
In their desperation, they all started to
talk loudly about every sort of nonsense,
they forged a lasting bond on shared fears.

The sister pronounced herself an artist,
the warrior told his companions about his
father’s sexual exploits. Dream-eater told a
dull joke, Marco remembered his best friend.


The next day, a vast sea of poppies and tulips
greeted them ahead of the city. Apple-tree orchards
lay in neat array before the huge gates. As they
approached, Marco marvelled at the beauty

of a city with snow-capped mountains as
back-drop, with apple-tree orchards slanting
down the side of tame hills, an ocean of
scarlet flower waves lapping at their feet.

dream interpreter – Part 1 : 65-70


Suddenly a small white leopard appeared
looking directly at them with curiousity.
Dream-eater took her sister’s hand;
they all just stood there for a while.

Marco resolved to do the right thing,
and his response to the stand-off was
to walk directly towards the creature
shouting and screaming, waving his arms.


Then a second leopard joined in on the
right, a fierce roar came from behind.
They were almost surrounded. Marco
continued to intimidate the small white

big cat, and the second leopard moved in
with circumspection, yet his eyes were
hunters, and his paws had claws as ends.
A third large leopard rose up behind them.


She was white as snow, furious at the threat
levelled at her younglings, hissing, roaring,
circling the four adventurers in the forest.
Marco was frightened, what else was in store?

What monsters did the night hold for them?
Dream-eater was not afraid, and she spoke up.
With level voice she let Marco know he was
overstepping, and she would take care of it.


And she did. She struck the leopard-mother
with a retracting blow; then wounded her
with her dagger. A small trickle of blood
stained her snowy fur, and she withdrew.

The young warrior just stood there in awe.
That was her leader, and she was amazing.
The sister was looking elsewhere, up above
toward the woodland canopy, seeking light.


It was getting dark in the forest, as a storm
was approaching. The leopards were still about,
around them, yet slowly moving off. A yellow light
was bathing them with fear, a sunset gone wrong.

Dream-eater stood there staring at the leopards,
angry with herself about her failings as a leader.
She was reminded of the people she had abandoned.
A whole tribe was now under the command of fools.


She was furious at her dead father, furious at
Marco, furious at her sister, angry with the
foolish young man following her… why so much
anger? Why the sudden burst of feeling? Stop.

Her heart was racing, and her mind was gone,
the whole world was spinning, and yet every
other muscle in her body was completely still.
Had it been a mistake to leave? Was she doomed?

dream interpreter – Part 1 : 60-64


The young Saka warrior was on the alert,
he had the impression that they were being
followed. The trees were completely still,
and somewhere not far, the sky thundered.

The sister walked ahead, barefoot. She
was a creature of crystal-clear pools,
of steep mountain-side ravines: a heart
of marble, and eyes of an eagle, piercing.


Marco was massively intimidated by her,
and yet, she seemed to be completely
indifferent to him now. The young man was
instead mildly competitive, while there was

no progress in winning Dream-eater’s true
favour, which was what he was after, mostly.
His dreams in the expanse of the grey steppe
were confused, and he was tormented by guilt.


The sister seemed to be all-seeing, and yet
somehow all-forgiving, much like a cloud
that comes from afar, hovers about, and
moves on, pushed by nothing but a puff of wind.

Her eyes were chrysoprase butterfly wings,
never resting on anything, always quick
and condescending, climbing on higher,
and higher, and down to the depths of his soul.


Through the thick forest paved with green-blue
light, monumental formations of lichens seemed
to rise stalagmite-like, which was very apt,
for the wood-land seemed like the interior of

a cave. Dream-eater was feeling as she was
suspended in time, and everything leading to
that moment, every wish, every pain she ever
experienced seemed to somehow make sense.


And she felt that she was due something good,
the favour of the gods will soon descend upon
her, and her fingers would brush the bright sky,
like the quivering wind, and her soul would soar,

for she was free now, and her dead father would
not haunt her, and the world was at her command,
and she had companions she loved, and they loved
her, even the strange Venetian was a trusted friend.