Welcome to Gaia! ::

Dream Log: number 1
Friday, August 08, 2008
12:51 pm.

tonight i dont know what was going on but for some reason everything in my dreams is strawberry.
strawberry colored dreams with random winged, flying, neon colored skulls. to even begin to tell you how i felt at the time is impossible for no reason other then thew fact that nothing was in a language i understand. signs all around me telling me directions to unknown places.
whispers of life and love in some directions and calls of death in others.
nothing makes sense but i search for something real. search untill i can not walk anymore. search untill it feels like i dont have any feet, then i look down to notice i dont. my legs dont form into feet, but rather vines wrapped around each other forming two "legs" that end in swirls or vine and leaves.
i am no longer standing (without feet to support myself) i am kinda floating and kind of hovering, and the only reason i know this is because i know feel the pressure of wings in my back. long paper thin dusty wings.
there are creatures of centaurs, pixies, sprites, goblins, trolls, vampires, weres of various and other creatures that i dont even remember the name to. we are eating gold apples, and drinking the best wine sider you couple ever hope for, at a ball.
its the corination of one of the courts new queen.
she walks across the stage to her thrown to rest from a night of heavy drinking, and vigorous dancing.
she is brought another sparkling goblet by some unknown faye. he ask her for a quest to prove himself to her, as the customs of suiters for the kings or queens of eather the light court or the night court.
well she looks at him and tells him one of the most imposible tasks she can think of and says to him, "find me a faye who can tell an untruth." witch everyone knows that no faye of any kind can tell a lie.
well the entire room bust out into laughter and applause, because you see, no one really like this particular little sprite because he was once accused of being a spy from another court. wich he really was.