The Lands I Know


Kris Kuksi

This Week’s Prompt:10. Dream of flying over city.

The Research: Flights of Fancy

I dreamed of rolling hills, the kind you see in pictures of summer and family cartoons. I soared over miles and miles of hills and pasture, dotted with wonderful little houses and villas. A number of small fences with yards of beautiful white fences and boys and girls singing and dancing. Oh, to tarry in those happy lands a bit longer. For those were the lands I knew, and I soaring over did dare to go farther, as the ground fled from me. And I entered the lands I only remembered.

There, there the fields were golden still, with wheat and cattle. And some places were shaded, so I could not see them. Youths worked the fields, maidens frolicked eternally happy. Farms were raised in the morning I came over those lands of memory, and torn down that night. Not a sign of age, nor birth or death. No, growth came so slow as to be nonexistent here, changing only in space not in time. It was a strange place, with dogs roaming free to hunt, and cats meowing at forlorn trees. But the winds blew, and I on Morpheus’s wings flew on.

Farm gave way to city, and gaity to gravitas. Down I fell as I flew yonder, the ground fleeing me like a great crevice. Towers rose, of brick and concrete. Oh, I did not know these buildings, nor had I set foot in such things. Dimly, I had seen them in films and pictures. I could only imagine such structures. Oh, they were real and certain, but hazy in the way Troy must have been to a Greek. Grand, but hollow. Teeming with an overflow of gray shapes, with millions of heads and arms flowing between them. Crowds of bodies, one mass surging into and out of the various buildings, a cacophony of noise and gestures. Chaos never had a truer bed.

Here I perched for a while, wings tired and wind dying. As I stood atop the roofs, I saw many strange sights in this half conceived city. Great skinless apes loomed large over the mass, seizing sections and pulling them into its maw. How dreadful! I shuddered to think if such creatures were let loose into the fields I knew. Great iron beasts rolled, and I knew not which was worse. For they did not eat them, but made such dreadful noise as to cause a panic. I wondered from whence this macabre city feel, for it could not have been made so. But the winds of dream blew on.

And onward I went, through the mess of stone. Towers grew together, like a web of stone, where enormous spiders, crawling and weaving a number of stony passages to the ceiling beyond the sun.In their hollow masses I saw reptilian shapes and heard the lamentation of women. Great shapes loomed on the ceiling, now low enough for me to see. I saw ships of steel carrying children, the first I had seen, to great factories, that they might be cast into mortar and paste. I heard their cries, as by lash and ruler they were broken, by those children who were treacherous and old in souls. Might obelisks were raised on their backs, with writing I could not read but who’s portents I understood. Here, they said, we praise Moloch and Philemon, kings of dreams and glory forever be. These names meant nothing to me.

But the web broke and bent, and at last I beheld the deepest and highest depth, soaring and sinking at once. And I saw a woman’s face, as vast as a mountain, with a mouth yawning in pain toward the sky. The teeth bore more mouths, calling out to be fed, and down infinitely so. Gremlins and witches labored on the faces surface, to settle its out cry and hunger. Its eyes, oh such terrible eyes, burned bright red and its hair was that of a gorgon. I have seen this face sense, on dark nights in distant thunder. But at that moment, it saw me and with one great breathe, one that drew first the goblins and witches, then the serpents and factory workers, then the cities, then the fields, then the plains I know, it drew me into to its gullet. And I awoke, in the darkness, not knowing whether I had evaded that terrible face, or now dwelt in the ruins of the world it swallowed, dark and miserable.
The bodies of dreamers are always foggy to me, good fellows. Tell me, what did you unearth?
I would also recommend, for those interested in some weird and industrial sculpture, Kris Kuksi’s work. It provided some inspiration for the descriptions I cobbled together above.

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