Looking into the mirror as the story unfolds: The Book Of Dreams
PART ONE – CHAPTER ONE
The first thing I remember, in this life, was seeing her sitting in a chair beside my window. There was blood everywhere in my bed. I was so groggy, in pain and my stomach growled with hunger. My first reaction was who had I murdered? My second, was it was me who was dead. Still I never felt more alive. As I tried to move, she turned to me and gave me a look of content I have never seen since. However, fear came over me, as I reached for my sword, she simply pointed to it laying on the table. As I tried to move from the bloody bed, I felt something gently push me down. I noticed she was pointing her finger at me, as she moved her arm downward in unison with the push I felt. Then she spoke to me. Not through the air for my ear to hear, but directly into my mind. I looked at her luscious lips and saw no movement. Her voice commanded me to sleep. The last thing I remember, on the first night I was born, was how beautiful she was standing in the moon light.
I awoke to a feeling of burning heat. The sun I once worshipped seems to be as fire upon my skin. I could hardly keep my eyes open as I stumbled to the window to draw the curtains shut. My mouth was so parched and dry. I moved slowly toward the pail of water desiring to drink it all. It felt cool and wet upon my lips but did not seem to quench my thirst. As I poured some water from the pail into a basin, I saw the blood on my sleeve. Quickly I begin to wash my face but saw no reflection of myself in the water within. Slowly I tried to recall the night before, even the day before. Hell, I could not even remember the previous year or my parents. I pulled myself into a chair. Looking toward the window I remember a woman who was sitting there in the chair I took as spoils. My memory of her is vague yet I remember her lips, her face and hair. I recall she was wearing a beautiful dress, one like a royal would wear. Her perfume was exotic, perhaps from the east. As I scanned the room of my castle, attempting to gather my thoughts, I notice my bed, a magnificent craftsmanship I received as a gift from the Baroness of Kendal. It had blood all over the linen.
The dream from that previous night was very cloudy. At that moment I hardly remembered anything. As I crawled toward the bed I thought also of the woman. I thought at that time I had killed her. That would explain the blood. Yet I do not remember anything from that night, much less how she got here. I know my vow as a warrior is not to kill women except in battle. Certainly that is an exception in war. Kill or be killed. And if I had committed this crime of murder I should be punished. But I had not seen her body within these walls. Her beauty was amazing… then I remembered more from the night before. She was in my bed, on top of me. We were making love, she moved so skillfully up and down on me. Almost as if she was floating. But it was not as the act of making love. It was more of the act of taking, removing everything that made me human. Something had happened within my soul that left me feeling dead. Slowly I recalled more of that night. But I also had a memory that was not mine as it was hers. I saw everything through her eyes. Torment, greed, love, hate, war and peace. She had given me knowledge men have sought to capture since time begin. I saw the world in which we live as no person had ever imagined.
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