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The Shadow Premonition Nightmare

          I am walking through a tunnel again. It is pitch-black but I know from experience that it is huge and round. Suddenly a circular hole of light appears in front of me. A spark in the night. I follow it for what seems like a routine walk I’ve done since I was 3 years old. This time I don’t stumble once.

Outside of the tunnel, bright rays light up the sky. I look down, squinting in the strong sunlight. My natural blonde hair glistens in the radiance as I scratch my head. I am standing in a field of flowers. But there is something strange about them. It isn’t the colors or shapes, as exotic as they are, but the vibrant designs unique to each flower. I bend over into a crouching position to get a closer look at the disturbing markings, though not sure what has compelled me to do so.

Silently and without me noticing, a breeze comes and then picks up force until it suddenly lifts me into the air. As the winds wrap around me, a feeling of joy and freedom washes over me. I feel like I could float forever but the strong winds start to swirl and spin around, picking up even more force. I am spinning in circles, my light blue nightshirt flapping in the chaos. The air currents spread outward and I watch as the petals from each of the delicate flowers are ripped from their stems. I watch, since I can’t resist the winds now manipulating me like a thousand wriggling hands and fingers, tilting my head back and pulling my eyelids open. I struggle against them for a moment, but in the end relax my body. The winds ease up and I watch the all too familiar scene manifesting itself in front of me.

The petals are being placed together in mid-air like the pieces of a puzzle. They form a massive sheet of paper, brilliantly colored. The strange markings, as I knew they would, form the unearthly stylized words of a poem- or as I believe it to be: a prophecy. Unwillingly yet feeling compelled to, I read aloud the lines I see.

“When Destined Light,

Joins Destined Darkness,

Amalgam Shall Occur

But What Is Born Shall Differ

Or Defer

Anarchy Night Shall Find Its Plight,

For Truth Does Not Regress,

Nor The Impurity That Mourns,

Or Death And All Its Formes,

When Comes Thee, Who Is To Be,

Destroyer, Creator, The Storm,

Into Archaic Bargain,

Where Evil Greets The End

And Death Begins Its Dawn”

         Suddenly the petals break formation, bursting open like a firework in the night sky and swirling around dreamily. They surround me, and I hold my breath, before the supernatural wind drops me. As I fall, the flower petals flit about me and obscure my view of, first the sky, and then, the hard, unforgiving earth below. As I fall, I can only associate the feeling of my snail-speed descent with the amount of gravity on the moon.

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