In the past, I used to dream a lot. The factory of my subconscious weaved vivid stories and adventures that I wrote down the next morning.
One particular night, I dreamt about dragons.
Men looked at dragons with the eye of the beast and pointed the accusing finger:
“The monsters must die!”
They preyed on the pool of infinity whose cool opaline waters hid the other world… the world from which dragons came to bring light and wonder into our own.
And they slain indiscriminately.
Dragon blood is red and dragons die, too, when they’re stabbed and cut and ripped apart.
Immortality is one thing, invulnerability another. Time loves dragons, but iron hates them.
And people love iron.
“Kill them all!” they yelled with bloodshot eyes and foaming mouths. “Let the beasts perish and leave our world clean of their plague forever!”
And the dragons stopped coming into our world and we turned back to grey.
He was small and black, with shiny skin and graceful wings. Too young to know he should not have crossed the boundary and exited the pool of infinity into our world… too idealistic to believe we’re truly evil. Too hopeful and warm and so wonderful in his trust…
They caught him by the pool and cut his wings off. As they prepared to stab his beautiful eyes with sarcasm and badly-carved words of spite, I rose and pulled him out of their midst and ran away.
Dragons are fascinating, eternal beings of imagination. They breathe life and exhale wonders. They fly on wings of dreams and never regret.
We are petty, small-minded grey pawns that crawl upon this earth and grovel in the mud of our lives with the sick satisfaction of the righteous.
Envious animals of prey that we are…
We banned all mirrors and avert our eyes from the shiny waters of the pool of infinity, for we are cowardly afraid of what we may see in there – our own true face. The face of the beast. The real monster does not lie within, it struts out and pretends to be good.
I may be redeemed, for I have saved a dragon and returned with him to the pool of infinity. I saw his family and his kin and felt the light with my trembling fingers and cried out I was unworthy. But they smiled and said all souls were worthy, once they had found themselves as such.
Now I’m growing wings and it hurts…. but I so enjoy this pain, for it’s the pain of creation.
And one day I may even be able to go beyond the boundary and do the right thing.