Dreams of Yesterday

The light from the candle was low, and the pale yellow wax had formed a thick ring around the iron candelabrum. Looking up, the young boy could the dragon’s purple, scaled face. His large, round eyes were dark green, yet they were bright and friendly.

“That’s it for tonight, the candle is almost spent, it is time for bed”, the dragon said. His voice was deep like thunder but calm like still water.

“Please, just one more, I’m too antsy anyways, I won’t be able to sleep for a while”, the little boy said.

The dragon sighed through its nostrils, debating whether or not to indulge his young companion with another story.

“I think it’s best if you sleep”

“No, your stories help me sleep! Please, even the moon is more awake than usual”

“Ah yes, the full moon. Tonight it is particularly bright... I will give you that, child. A supermoon, little one, and a wolf moon”, he added.

“What does that mean?” the boy asked the dragon as he turned his round, heterochromatic eyes back to the moonlight shining on the meadow outside the boy’s house. At night when the dragon would tell him old stories, the boy had to open the window so he could fit his long neck inside.

“Well, a super moon is a moon that is larger than usual, people and dragons alike say it’s because the moon draws nearer to us. And the monks used to say that it draws nearer in order to rile up the will of those righteous to the true path of the eternal light force…”

“I don’t understand”

“Yes, few do now. The teachings of the ancient ones are all but lost or suppressed. I can tell you that they believed in a conscious connection between all living and nonliving things, and denounced dividing words like ‘us and them’, ‘this or that’. They would be disappointed if they were still around to see the wars between humans and dragons. I think we could learn from them, especially in times like these…”

“How ‘bout the wolf moon?”, the boy inquired.

“Ah yes, a wolf moon is a moon of the new year, it is the January moon. It’s said that the wolves often howl more than usual on this moon. Curious, this moon reminds me of the night I found you, little one”

“Tell me again please!”, the boy squealed. He loved hearing the dragon that had raised him tell stories, most of all, the story of the night he found him.

“Ok, ok, then you sleep…”, he said with a dreamy sigh as he looked out the bedroom window on the other side of the room to the illuminated meadow and the adjacent dark forest that surrounded the land where they lived. The dragon liked telling his adopted human child his stories, and on this dreamy night, he was able to remember better than he could most nights. “It was a night not unlike tonight,” he began, “the night of a supermoon, in this case, the Monkshood or Wolfsbane Moon of June. Usually, a June moon is a Rose moon, but when it coincides with the supermoon, it is said that an intangible sense of darkness comes out to play with the light of the supermoon, turning the red rose into the vexing purple of the monkshood. It is said that witches and wizards would often wait many years for an opportunity like this one because they followed the beliefs of the fabled ancient ones that said the super Monkshood moon was a time of great Magic. That these latent dark energies rose up from the roots of the Earth and mingled with the luminous light of the supermoon. They said that it was a time when the divisions in the world were blurred, and nature and reality became more fluid… less defined. Some say that on this night you could have a conversation with an oak, or laugh with a midnight butterfly. But some are terrified of this moon because it has an intoxicating effect on many, people and dragons alike say they feel as though they have been drugged, and there are many accounts of sensible people doing what others call ‘highly uncivilized things.’”

“Anyways, I woke in the middle of the night to the light of the moon. As one who loves to fly under the light of the full moon, and the feeling of magic in the air. I went out to collect clear my mind and enjoy the feeling of the night air under the light of the moon, hoping to catch a glimpse of some magic, while searching for some rare ingredients. At that time, I had taken up a kind of hobby, I’d search for various herbs and mushrooms from above, and tell the local brewmaster of their location for some food. As it was June, I was hoping to find some flowers that were in full bloom. I had read that there was a rare flower, aptly named the moonflower, with extraordinary powers. It blooms just once a year under the light of the full moon.

"I remember flying and sometimes landing to walk for a couple of hours and then having a sense that the magic of this night was taking me. My memory went a little bit fuzzy and I remember taking flight and then landing in an unfamiliar, yet inviting forest (a forest that I was never able to locate the following days). I heard the howl of wolves in the distance, and saw many shadows moving and dancing underneath the potent moonlight that penetrated the canopy of the forest, the shadows seemed to dance between the large trunks of the trees. I remember having not a worry in my heart, nor really a recognition of self, I was simply wandering on my feet, something I rarely did. Unlike most forests, this one could easily accommodate me with it’s towering canopy and spaced trees.

"After a time, I caught the smallest whisper of the most intoxicating and inviting smell I have ever come across. It smelled of a deep, dark velvet, a bottomless dark purple, soothing like lavender and enticing like the scent of a beautiful young dragon. I followed the scent, and as it became more potent I saw waves of a purple like a dark amethyst, moving across the forest like smoke from a fire if it meandered horizontally rather than vertically, almost like a gaseous creek floating in the air. I felt my heart beat race, I needed to find the source of this scent, I knew it was important. More than important actually, I could not conceive of a reality where I would do otherwise. I started to run, following the trail closely, then I was sprinting as fast as I’ve ever moved on my feet, I was mad, and I was now very much aware of it, but it did not matter, all that mattered was the task at hand that had quickly consumed me. The trees grew bigger, although I did not stop to check, I’m sure that if I had stood at their base I would not have been able to see their tops, even with the aid of sunlight. They appeared more like black pillars reaching into the heavens rather than trees.

"Then I noticed the animals: hares and owls, squirrels and foxes, and flocks of ravens and doves moving in every direction around me. Usually, such animals would hide if I came anywhere near them. I remember locking eyes with a nightingale following me by my left side, feeling the sensation of lift beneath my arms, and looking down to my right and seeing a dragon, whom I did not recognize, but felt a sort of kinship to, sprinting wildly below me. I could hear laughter and shouting, there was movement and life all around me. I was absolutely hysterical, I was not myself now and I felt elated. I felt like I was being swept up by a wave of the nocturnal and had become more beast than dragon, freed by the release of identity”

The boy’s eyes grew wide as he peered into the dragon’s eyes, now opening wider than he had ever seen them, glistened with tears. The boy was in complete awe of the tempo of his voice, the sound of his heart pounding in their quiet cabin, and the look on his face as if he was reliving this moment here, with his large, scaly head in their small room, with the light of the moon shining brightly in through the window, as the candle slowly began to die. His voice had risen and you could feel it reverberating on the wooden logs of the room, it shook what was left of the flame of the candle, causing his shadow to dance on the wood-paneled wall behind him.

“I was scrambling, I could feel branches and brambles whipping my face, I could feel dirt and rock and root underneath my feet and talons as if I was running on all fours. I was joining in on the songs of the forests, bellowing words and sounds I had never made nor heard before, syllables and whispers that sounded like the chant of some great ritual, intermingled with the calls of the birds and the howls of the wolves. I felt as if I was leaving my body and becoming a part of the night. But the wave of purple only grew stronger, the scent entered into my very soul, and my soul willfully submitted to its call. I lost all control and can only remember glimpses of mad animals, red and green eyes, the feeling of bloody hands, hooves, and paws, not knowing what was mine and what was not. Then I felt complete immersion, like a herd of deer, a pack of wolves, a flock of nightingales we felt the sensation of some complete chaotic burst of energy, the feeling of a million beating hearts of varying sizes and pulsing giants of trees, we felt like one singular wave of life, all of us one! I flew through the forest! Leaping over branches, flying through the canopy, moving through the earth like roots and fungus at a speed no dragon has ever experienced! And then…”

His head was lifted now and he stared through the window behind the boy, shaking with the rush of energy he felt recalling the story, his voice now wavering slightly, his mouth so wide the sides of it practically touched his eyes and revealed his rows of dagger-like teeth. He looked like the happiest dragon that had ever lived. His voice tapered off, it softened, his features grew soft and he sat back down.

“Silence… I had burst through the forest’s edge. I had come back to my senses. My body was covered with small scrapes and dirt, soaked in blood, with splinters and small pebbles jammed into the lacerations. I took a moment to try and recall what I had just experienced, but very little came back to me as if I had just woken from a dream. Then I looked up, wondering where I was. In front of me was a small grove. I noticed that mushrooms lined the grove, which seemed to be perfectly circular, as if some kind of huge ferry ring. The supermoon was very bright, I had little trouble seeing anything. At the center of the grove was a beautiful ash tree, it looked older than any other tree I had ever seen. It reminded me instantly of the sketches of the ancient sages, sitting upon their mountain top meditating: hunched over, skinny, wrinkled things, the epitome of old.

"Then I smelled it again. Not as strong as before but undeniable: an intoxicating sweetness, enticing me with wondrous notions of perfectly harmless darkness. I approached the tree and saw a single plant, standing about 2 feet tall, a few paces away from the tree that seemed to be looming over it lovingly, like a mother watching her infant child sleep. As I approached the plant I saw that its flowers were of an incredibly dark purple hue, yet there appeared to be speckles lining the flower that glistened and sparkled in the moonlight. I crouched down and looked closer at the flower and then pushed my nose towards it and took a great big sniff. Pure euphoria rushed over me. It smelled so good I wanted to just eat the whole thing. Then I realized what it was, the pictures of the witch’s infamous ‘flying potion’ flashed through my mind as I recalled reading about this flower:

Monkshood, named for the purple flower's shape resembling that of the ancient one’s hoods. Also known as Wolfsbane, because farmers often placed raw meat soaked in the tea around the borders of their pastures to kill any wolves that came near their livestock. It was revered by the ancient ones for its powerful effects, it is said to trigger an easy flow of magic in any who partakes of its flowers, leaves or roots. Its precise uses by the ancient ones are not known, but many practicing witches and wizards use it in order to connect with hidden sources of magic. Witches were said to use it in their infamous ‘flying potion’ which allowed for them to take off in flight on switches of Ash and Alder trees. However, it should be noted that anyone looking to use any part of this plant shall be warned: It is one of the most deadly plants known to humankind. With a single flower able to kill even the largest of men. And its roots, properly prepared, contain enough poison to kill a small village.

"Yes! I thought, Monkshood… How strange it is to find this ominous plant on this auspicious night. Monkshood on the Moon of Monkshood. A great find… but wait, I thought. Any forager with any respect for the Earth knows you can never take more than half of any available source of plant life from a site, preferably a much smaller fraction than that. And there is only this one flower.

"I remember feeling disappointed yet resolute, this flower had seemed too beautiful to reveal to the brewmaster. As I took one long last look at this gnarled mass of a tree in preparation for the long journey home I heard what sounded like a sniffle. Next, I heard a wolf from far off let out a loud howl. As if in response, coming from the base of the ancient tree I heard a small, soft giggle and then what sounded like a cheap imitation of the howl “howw-ooo”. Was the tree talking to me, like I had heard they do on nights like tonight? I knew it wouldn’t have been the strangest thing to happen to me that night. No, as I looked closer I could see in the shadow of the base of the twisted trunk of the tree, nestled right between the tree and the flower, was a human child. An infant, a baby. Shocked, I reached out and gently touched its face with my wing to make sure I was not hallucinating. Its face was the softest of soft, it reminded me of the smooth surface of the Monkhood petals I had just a moment ago been admiring. Delicately, I picked up the baby, as anyone who had just found one alone out in the wilderness would, and figured I had to bring it back with me. Surely, it would die out here alone in the woods, the fact that a wolf hadn’t gotten to it amazed me. As I walked away the glint of the Wolfsbane caught my eye, a soft wind rustled one of its top petals as if it was winking at me. I laughed, ‘Thank you’ I said. And walked off.

“The next morning is when I heard the news that the dragons were being hunted by humans. I wasn’t safe near the humans anymore. Before going into hiding I tried to find that forest again, but it was as if it had disappeared from the face of the Earth…”

“Ok, now you must close your eyes and go to sleep”, the dragon added.

The boy nodded his head in agreement, but his round, raccoon-like eyes looked off toward the supermoon, still visible through the window. The boy’s mind was now even more active, wondering about the circumstances of that auspicious night.

“Ok, Gaskar, thank you. Good night.”

“Dream deep, Ash” he whispered, pulling his head back out through the window.