Dreams
By Ukyou
This is not a general fanfiction, I can tell you that. This is more of a collection of strange and abstract ideas that were so vivid that one could only call it a dream, an excuse for something being not normal or such. I'd love to make one of the following dreams a story, I seriously would, but if I were to, then it would be passed on as a strange insight, perhaps, but never a true story that could be understood. The identity of a dream is what, for some reason, makes that all obsolete, for one knows that things do not make sense in a dream, there are no ends that meet or whatnot. No, everything merely exists and is accepted, because someone knows its a dream. Still, these are more like small insights than short stories.
Keep that in mind when you read this, or perhaps you won't need to.
---- Syaoran's First Dream - Piano ----
It was dark, pitch dark.
He could see nothing, he could only hear, but all that met his ear was nothing more than the sharp edge of silence, the kind that could pierce your ears threefold that of the loudest screech, or the miracle of a thousand hands. Yet, Syaoran could still stand without noticing a single thing comming to his ear. Instead, he stood silently.
Then, as if a spear had trickled upon his brow, he began running through an endless patch of black, nothing to be seen, only to be heard. He could not even tell whether his eyes were open or not. Pitch black.
"Syaoran" he thought to himself. "Syaoran, where are you?"
He never responded to the questions he ever posed to himself in his mind, and yet still asked them. To be refused by oneself is quite the paradox, don't you think so as well? Or maybe we're all that way.
Then, a spotlight. It rained down upon the ground, illuminating a winding staircase, which seemed to loop on upwards as far as he could see. He held his hand above his brow, his eyes squinting at the sudden adjustment of luminance.
There was nowhere else to go, it seemed.
"Is it there to be stared at...or perhaps it exists to serve another purpose?" he asked himself again, but to no avail. His mind remained dry of answers, silenced by some unknown oath.
His instinct was to run up the staircase and see what would be meeting him at the top. He had no idea, it was the work of the devil maybe, a personal chess game with a pawn battle.
The blight of man, to be stuck at a staircase without knowing. What risks would there be to take? What kept him back from climbing the staircase? Syaoran never trusted such things, maybe that could be another reason.
...and yet, he found himself climbing the staircase. The bars were of steel and very shaky, he paused at times to prevent the stairs from falling, which at the same time he doubted would happen.
Then, a small echo reached out to him, one of whose identity was that of a piano. Its keys were gently touched upon, the notes comming out just as delicate. A single whisper could make it all fade away.
The music came louder as he neared the end, his spirit moved to the point of in which his step came as delicatly as the keys. A slight tap was all that was permitted, and a slight shake was all the reponse given.
"Come louder..." Syaoran whispered to himself, constantly looking up in order to see the instrument that was capable of quelling such emotion. He was moved, music wrapping itself around him like a blanket and wooing him towards it as it unraveled.
The music did obey, and Syaoran continued to climb, even though he knew he was afraid of heights. Still, what was there to see except a sea of blackness? Was there anything to prove that he was indeed so high?
None whatsoever.
He continued to climb for what seemed hours, and the music seemed to get louder and louder. Always louder, always closer. More stairs passed, and yet his step remained in an endless tango of a foot here and a foot there.
Then there came a voice from below him, a female's voice. One that was so familiar to him, he could recognize it if he had his ears covered and made impaired.
He gave a pause to his journey, and called out to her, yelling her name as loudly as he could.
Silence.
...and so he pressed on once again, a foot after a foot. He could feel a light rain come down upon him. The piano he heard was soon followed by a violin, and then a cello. An Italian Master Suite, an art of which he now longed to see.
...but her voice he heard only once, and now looked down along the side of the stair's railing. Only once and he found himself staring down constantly, as if his life was dependant upon it.
And then he would look back up and climb, climb on forever he would perhaps.
"Perhaps such a thing is futile. Maybe all of this work is for nothing, and your piano will never be found. Maybe it is the life of fools you live, a card a day to be turned, and half the deck one of jokers." he thought to himself, of which he agreed. He never answered his own questions, but such a line was no question.
It was when the light drizzle of rain turned to a heavy pounding that he decided to turn back.
...and how strange it was for him to find that with only a single step backwards, that he was back on the ground again.
And she called for him.
It was futile perhaps?
He left that unanswered.
And then he awoke.
---
Author's Note: Some things are impossible to find, but yet the clues are sweet. Don't follow them forever, don't take the beating. To get away is only a step from realization of the reality of it all.
Dream #2 comming whenever I feel like it (More reviews pushes me to write btw)
This is not a general fanfiction, I can tell you that. This is more of a collection of strange and abstract ideas that were so vivid that one could only call it a dream, an excuse for something being not normal or such. I'd love to make one of the following dreams a story, I seriously would, but if I were to, then it would be passed on as a strange insight, perhaps, but never a true story that could be understood. The identity of a dream is what, for some reason, makes that all obsolete, for one knows that things do not make sense in a dream, there are no ends that meet or whatnot. No, everything merely exists and is accepted, because someone knows its a dream. Still, these are more like small insights than short stories.
Keep that in mind when you read this, or perhaps you won't need to.
---- Syaoran's First Dream - Piano ----
It was dark, pitch dark.
He could see nothing, he could only hear, but all that met his ear was nothing more than the sharp edge of silence, the kind that could pierce your ears threefold that of the loudest screech, or the miracle of a thousand hands. Yet, Syaoran could still stand without noticing a single thing comming to his ear. Instead, he stood silently.
Then, as if a spear had trickled upon his brow, he began running through an endless patch of black, nothing to be seen, only to be heard. He could not even tell whether his eyes were open or not. Pitch black.
"Syaoran" he thought to himself. "Syaoran, where are you?"
He never responded to the questions he ever posed to himself in his mind, and yet still asked them. To be refused by oneself is quite the paradox, don't you think so as well? Or maybe we're all that way.
Then, a spotlight. It rained down upon the ground, illuminating a winding staircase, which seemed to loop on upwards as far as he could see. He held his hand above his brow, his eyes squinting at the sudden adjustment of luminance.
There was nowhere else to go, it seemed.
"Is it there to be stared at...or perhaps it exists to serve another purpose?" he asked himself again, but to no avail. His mind remained dry of answers, silenced by some unknown oath.
His instinct was to run up the staircase and see what would be meeting him at the top. He had no idea, it was the work of the devil maybe, a personal chess game with a pawn battle.
The blight of man, to be stuck at a staircase without knowing. What risks would there be to take? What kept him back from climbing the staircase? Syaoran never trusted such things, maybe that could be another reason.
...and yet, he found himself climbing the staircase. The bars were of steel and very shaky, he paused at times to prevent the stairs from falling, which at the same time he doubted would happen.
Then, a small echo reached out to him, one of whose identity was that of a piano. Its keys were gently touched upon, the notes comming out just as delicate. A single whisper could make it all fade away.
The music came louder as he neared the end, his spirit moved to the point of in which his step came as delicatly as the keys. A slight tap was all that was permitted, and a slight shake was all the reponse given.
"Come louder..." Syaoran whispered to himself, constantly looking up in order to see the instrument that was capable of quelling such emotion. He was moved, music wrapping itself around him like a blanket and wooing him towards it as it unraveled.
The music did obey, and Syaoran continued to climb, even though he knew he was afraid of heights. Still, what was there to see except a sea of blackness? Was there anything to prove that he was indeed so high?
None whatsoever.
He continued to climb for what seemed hours, and the music seemed to get louder and louder. Always louder, always closer. More stairs passed, and yet his step remained in an endless tango of a foot here and a foot there.
Then there came a voice from below him, a female's voice. One that was so familiar to him, he could recognize it if he had his ears covered and made impaired.
He gave a pause to his journey, and called out to her, yelling her name as loudly as he could.
Silence.
...and so he pressed on once again, a foot after a foot. He could feel a light rain come down upon him. The piano he heard was soon followed by a violin, and then a cello. An Italian Master Suite, an art of which he now longed to see.
...but her voice he heard only once, and now looked down along the side of the stair's railing. Only once and he found himself staring down constantly, as if his life was dependant upon it.
And then he would look back up and climb, climb on forever he would perhaps.
"Perhaps such a thing is futile. Maybe all of this work is for nothing, and your piano will never be found. Maybe it is the life of fools you live, a card a day to be turned, and half the deck one of jokers." he thought to himself, of which he agreed. He never answered his own questions, but such a line was no question.
It was when the light drizzle of rain turned to a heavy pounding that he decided to turn back.
...and how strange it was for him to find that with only a single step backwards, that he was back on the ground again.
And she called for him.
It was futile perhaps?
He left that unanswered.
And then he awoke.
---
Author's Note: Some things are impossible to find, but yet the clues are sweet. Don't follow them forever, don't take the beating. To get away is only a step from realization of the reality of it all.
Dream #2 comming whenever I feel like it (More reviews pushes me to write btw)