Say my name


Names are such a weird and powerful thing. Although, admittedly, the last thing I ever imagine is to hear someone calling mine to pull me from the depths of a dream. Yet, here we are. I’m sitting with a tea and wondering who the deep and rumbling voice was that said my name twice before my dream self jumped into a large lake of water.

Which begs the question of why?

Before asking such a question I made sure it wasn’t my partner. It wasn’t. The next step was to take a round of the house to make sure everything was in order. It was.

Now that the mundane was checked off the list a friend brought up the possibility that my names was called to prevent the dream from going any farther. Was the dream about to turn into a nightmare? What kind of nightmare would dignify something like divine intervention? The honest answer is: I’m not sure. What I have been able to glean was the voice belonged to my longtime guardian Duke Focalor. When asked that prickly little question of why the only answer I received was that the dream was about to take a dangerous turn.

Interesting.

My dream was of rebellion. I don’t remember how it led up to that. All I know is there was deceased uncle and his wife were trying to squash it down. My dream self was torn. I knew of the rebellion, sympathized, and even helped their cause. Finding out my uncle was one of the ones trying to discontinue it was a huge blow, even in sleep. When he asked to speak privately, I couldn’t refuse. Maybe it was the last time we’d be able to have any kind of conversation. Unfortunately, I found a tracker on myself after the fact. One of my rebellion friends asked what it was.

Then all hell broke loose. The rebels were scattering. The walls were closing down to keep everyone pinned in. A friend and I finally managed to break down a door to run outside. But, there, a giant construction machine picked me up off the ground. That’s when I saw the water and the forest beyond. My dream self thought if we could get into the water and make it to the other side then, just maybe…

And that’s when I heard my real name. Twice.

Knowing who called my name and typing out what transpired doesn’t shed any light onto the question at hand. Hopefully, time will be able to help deconstruct what exactly was going on.


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