In my dream, I am taken down into the cool summer blue of the underworld. Here, the water acts of its own accord, twisting up in beautiful crystalline spirals (or down, or meeting together in the center, in a balanced whorl of brilliant geometry). I have been led down here – at first against my will – by a professor obsessed with learning the secrets of the black woman through ownership of my body.
Throughout the background story-montage that dreams often give, I had begun to question him and his practice toward me, even though he had raised me, seemingly from birth, in the dream. Those loyal to him had apparently found my logic sound and – as the professor intended to use me as a sacrifice to enter the spirit world whole and unabated – instead turned on him to save me from his malevolence.
However, by killing him in the small cave that served as our entrance, the professor had become the sacrifice in my stead. An unseen force bade me watch his passing as a means of understanding the movement of death, of spirit from body. In the dream he was as a father to me though he had seen me as an inhuman threat – very reminiscent of the anime Blood+; it still saddened me that he had rather died than give me the freedom I had so desperately sought.
Still, the steps of death were completed, and my mind color coded each step as though I were simply reading from a work book. Through the rainbow of colors I saw the root of the body, lying safe and sleepy behind his heart (I had something similar to X-Ray vision and was watching each of his body systems highlight themselves for my knowledge, an irony given his holding me captive to benefit his own bookshelves).
It was then that, yes, of course, it was so simple! The roots, which held the keys to the life, were the strongest and most resilient. I saw them disperse into the body as though to prepare the community of cells for their own transition, and then the the whole light of the body faded from view.
It was as though some force found it necessary to educate me, and I understood why in the next moment: Back in the present room, I am recognizing the flow of crystalline fluid as a kind of river. I know I have descended three or four levels down into what those afraid of death refer to as hell. It is beautiful, but it is the sound which creates the light, a ricocheting of choral voices and water trickle. Those who cannot “hear” the light would have been reasonably afraid of the near total darkness here. A place of contradiction if I had ever seen one, the place I knew was a beautiful, deep sky blue.
I know that I have been granted witness to the heart of the steps of human passage. The river Jordan. The river Styx. The River. And I am humbled by it. Then, coming up out, ascending as though simply having stepped into an elevator, we move back into the living world, and I am excited and terrified, ready to greet the world with a freedom I had not previously known. /end-dream
Edited 5/29/2017 for grammar.