500 Words a Day - Ocean Dreams

Of course, the sea was barely salty.

It had a hint of salt, as otherwise no one would have recognised it as the ocean at all, but by and large the Ocean of Dreams tasted like liquorice or caramel, and the overriding impression on tasting it was sweetness.

Yet nevertheless, the dreamer hesitated on the shores. Her toes barely touched the sea foam as the waves ploughed their course up and down the golden sand. Not really sand - the dreamers toes were curled around the dust of ancient dreams, from long forgotten sleepers, who had fallen into the real and never returned. Each mote of sand called in a different voice, but she could barely hear them, so intent was she in scanning the horizon.

With a soft surge, another wave drifted up the beach, this time caressing her feet with lovers’ kisses before whispering away. The tide was coming in and her watch was nearly over for another day.

She couldn’t say for sure why she had started watching, nor what precisely she was watching for, but in between wakings this was where she always wanted to be - on the shore of the Ocean, with the living breeze in her hair, the sand brushing her skin. It reminded her of - something. Something she still could not grasp.

And so for eighteen years she had stood, and breathed the sea air, and watched, and waited. Occasionally she would see other dreamers - lovers, fighters, travellers. Knights and shamans, singers and fools, all had passed by in their time, but they never lingered. The sea which drew her so irresistibly seemed to repel all others, as if its voice was crying for her alone.

“Jasmine,” it whispered, as it rushed towards her.

“Jasmine…” it sighed as it retreated once more.

The familiar weariness was returning, her eyelids getting heavy. The world was calling her back. She prepared to surrender to the darkness.

When something changed, a mast of a ship penetrated the horizon, a crimson sail, purple pennants streaming. A huge boat was skimming the waves, heading directly for the shore with alarming speed.

The dreamer could not move - she found herself completely entranced by the oncoming vessel, as it approached, neared, and then drew itself up onto the sand.

“Jasmine, my darling, my love,” called a soft, familiar voice, bubbling up from inside the ship. “I am here at last!”

It took her a second to find her voice. “Who - who are you?”

A man dressed in swathes of blue and green leapt over the railings and landed in a cloud of sand. His eyes twinkled beneath a mass of hair.

“Jasmine! It is I, the Ocean itself. I have become human so I can love you just as you love me. Come, let me hold you close.”

“No, no, no” whispered the dreamer, covering her eyes.

“What is it, my love? Do you not love me? Is this not what your heart has desired for these eighteen long years?”

She uncovered her eyes, and faced him sombrely, afraid of somehow breaking him.

“I do love you,” she said, “but just the dream of you.”

And with that, Jasmine woke.

The Book of Josiah - Complete Links

Here you will find all the links to the entire Book of Josiah, as it currently stands, grouped both in chapter order and by timeline.

FULL EBOOK - Coming Soon!

Introduction

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14a
Chapter 14b
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23a
Chapter 23b
Chapter 23c
Epilogues

More links after the jump

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 23c

Part a is here.
Part b is here.

“The shields - the whole shielding system - it was your idea, you designed it.”

    “You designed it, is it going to work?”
    “What do you want me to tell you?”
    “I want you to tell me that we’ll do it, that we’ll save Luna-city, and ourselves. Ammi will have our child and we will all live happily ever after.”
    Jonah looked down sadly.
    “I wish I could tell you that, but deep down in my heart I know that is not how this story ends.”
    “Yeah, I know. The whole ‘IN THREE HOURS’ business. What was that about?”
    “It’s called prophecy, Josiah.”
    “You’ll excuse me if I don’t immediately accept that as an answer.”
    “I will,” said Jonah, smiling devilishly, “but for the purpose of this conversation let’s just take it as read.”
    “Okay, fine. So how do you get into this whole prophecy gig?”
    “You are chosen, and believe me, it is as much a curse as a blessing. I have been walking the earth for many lifetimes now, but soon it will be time to rest.”
    “If you can’t be more cheerful I might become more sceptical.”
    Jonah laughed again. Somehow, despite the growing patch of red and orange, that signalled the approach of Security, despite the growing image of Luna-city projected at the front of the bridge, somehow they had found calmness. But Josiah knew it was just the eye of the storm.
    “I shall endeavour to be optimistic, at least in conversation.”
    “That’s all I ask.”
    “So Josiah, what do you dream about?”
    “Haven’t we had this discussion before? I have the strangest feeling of déjà vu.”
    “Yes we have but times change and so do dreams.”
    “And is there nothing else to talk about?”
    “Nothing else worth saying - the world is run by dreams, the world is changed by dreamers. One should never cheapen the power of dreams.”
    The power of dreams. Yes, the phrase itself struck a chord within his soul but he could not say why. Power…
    He flicked the third switch. It was a delicate balance - too much plasma all at once and the whole engine could blow, ruining any chance they had of saving the city. Too little and they would not change course in time.
    The first rumblings pulsed through the ship as the starboard thrusters filled with plasma. Everything shook, first gently and then with increasing ferocity until Josiah had to cling to his chair, and was half afraid his teeth would fall out.
    Then the shaking subsided.
    “Well that was exciting,” Jonah said, sitting up and brushing dust from his clothes.
    “Yes but it wasn’t enough, we’ll need more to push us off course.”
    He looked up at the display - Luna-city seemed so close now, he could make out all the different buildings, the roofs, the domes, the towers. Was that Ammi’s hospital? It was hard to say. But this was what he was fighting for, and he would not let it go.

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 23a

The Five of Cups reversed, gold on black.
    He is in a car with her, and they are driving down the road. The top is down, the wind is in her hair - God, she looks beautiful today, eyes like black on gold. And they are laughing so hard, though he can’t say why. They laugh and laugh, as though this could never end. And then he looks at his hand, and sees a trickle of blood - why does it not hurt? He stops laughing, and so does she. They stare at the trickle of blood, confused, as it traces a red path down his arm. And then the car is out of control, and they go off the bridge. For a moment they are suspended in empty space but then they fall. And somewhere distant, a girl is crying.
    The Six of Wands reversed, silver on black.
    On an ocean, rocking back and forth with the gentle waves. It is night, and the moon is full, silver on black. It is so peaceful here, with the gentle rocking of the sea. But the sky grows darker, and one of the crew is not who he seems, he is an outsider, a traitor, but which one? Perhaps they should draw lots. But the lots are not fair and he draws the short straw - no! I am not the traitor! - but no one will listen to his cries, and they prepare to throw him from the boat before all is lost. “Pray to your God,” they say, “perhaps he will hear and save your life”. But he does not believe in God and so all hope is lost. For a moment he is suspended in empty space but then he falls forever.
    The Fool.
    How should this dream go? I shall toss a coin to decide, I cannot control a dream. Heads, we shall all go home and live beautiful lives, and the dream shall end happily ever after. Tails, we shall never go home, and the dream shall end in fear and pain. He tosses the coin, watches it spin, round and round. For a moment, it hangs there, forever revolving, but then it falls. He reaches out a bloodstained hand and catches it. Tails. Best of three, he thinks, and tosses the coin again and again - and every time it comes up tails.

    The World reversed. Failure.

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 18

    It wasn’t his fault. Not really. He was afraid of his dreams and so he fought the darkness. What had happened to his beautiful dreams? Once he had dreamt of other worlds and other times, when a man could be a hero, where he was free to live out his fantasies. But he had squandered his infinite dreams and now was left with only two.
    In one, he watched a cup of tea fall to the floor, so elegant, so graceful, and shatter into a thousand pieces like a drop of rain as it hits the ground; and an inhuman screech filled his ears as brakes burned, tires slid and a car, all too close, collided with a brick wall. It was inevitable and he was bound to watch, over and over again.
    But relatively speaking that was the good dream. In the other, he woke up in his bed to find Ammi lying beside him, worn by the passing of years but as beautiful as ever. And he would wake her up and tell her about the strange dream he had had, and how he had imagined the crash, and her funeral, and his sorrow, and she laughed and said “what a funny dream” and they both laughed together until Dinah came to find out what was going on; and she was so beautiful it ached his heart, and he told her about his strange dream, and how she had died and he had gone to her funeral and been unable to say a word, and he laughed because she was so full of life - they all laughed.
    Joe felt himself falling asleep again and drove his nails harder into his leg - he had to stay awake. it wasn’t his fault that he kept falling asleep in this meeting. How could he go to sleep at night knowing what waited for him in the shadows?
    His head jerked backwards and he knew that he couldn’t help himself. In a few minutes he would be asleep, and there was nothing he could do about it. No, he wouldn’t accept that.
    Eli was still talking but it was just a senseless drone, like an itch at the base of Joe’s mind. He did not understand a word that was being said but couldn’t ignore it. He had to seem interested but to do that he had to stay awake. Rising from his seat in what he hoped was a surreptitious manner, Joe went over to the water machine and poured himself a large cup of water.
    ‘I need something stronger than water,’ Joe thought but then was immediately angry at himself for thinking it. He did not drink any more.

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 17

    Darkness dissolved into light.
    From nothingness all he could see was fire, fire burning hot and bright. And yet he was cold. And could not move.
    The light was fleeting, the warmth fading - the darkness more than real.
    Steel chains bound his arms and legs, rusted links wore at his wrists and ankles. The constant sound of dripping water played out a never-ending riff. Water swirled and danced around the stone cobbles and pooled around his feet, covered with the filth of eternity. And yet his mouth was dry beyond enduring. And the water was out of reach.
    If he felt anything, it was abject terror.
    He knew he was alone despite the darkness. No, it wasn’t dark. Fire burned in braziers, fixed at equal intervals along the wall, flickering like ghosts, more dead than alive. And the walls stretched beyond the end of the world, beyond the brink of forever.
    And then he was in the jungle, running, running. The unbearable green burnt his eyes, the cascading water plunged his hair to rivers, the undergrowth tore at his tattered clothes. But he was running, and nothing else mattered.
    He was a jaguar, fleet of foot, king of the jungle, deadly hunter. His claws were like steel vices, his teeth like industrial diamonds. And his prey was close. The infuriating stench of its sweat filled his mind with visions of death and blood, of red and green.
    The water did not matter, the thickness of the air he fought was irrelevant - the only thing in the world was his prey. He had to run.
    And then he was the prey and was still running, running, fighting the pain of a broken arm - he knew that a piece of metal was stuck in his flesh. Cold sweat mingled with the gushing water but there was no oblivion.
    His antlers caught a branch and he was slowed for an instant - the pause was deadly - the hunter was upon him.
    This is a dream, he thought, and smiled to himself. There is no pain and no water. With a leap he sailed high into the air and left the hunter far behind. This is a dream, and here I can fly.
    But he could not fly, and so he fell down with the rain, faster than teardrops, plummeting to the green earth and the dark ribbon of silver. The ribbon rushed to meet him, its waters closed over his head.
    This is a dream, he thought, and I can swim. And so he did. But he saw that fish too can swim, and they gathered around him, sunlight flashed off bared fangs. Then all around him, the water turned from green to red.
    He was the hunter, laughing at his folly.
    He was the hunted, crying into blood.
    He was the fish, extracting his pound of flesh.
    He is you, and you are me, and I am everyone.
    “You are not My people. And you are not forgiven.”

*  *  *

    “Well Mr Smith, this is a pleasant surprise.”

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 13

    A wave of dizziness passed through him. It started somewhere in his bowels, before rippling through his spine and up into his head. His legs felt insubstantial, as if they existed in three places at once - a nauseous feeling swelled in the pit of his stomach. He swayed, and nearly fell. Grabbing hold of a barrel, he caught himself, closed his eyes, and waited for the sickening sensations to pass. They left him a few moments later, with no trace of their presence remaining.
    Jos opened his eyes and looked around him. He must have stood up too fast when he stepped out of the ventilation shaft. At least he hadn’t revealed their presence here by falling over, or getting sick.
    Jonah didn’t seemed to have noticed that anything had been amiss. He was peering over the silver barrels into the vast brightly lit room beyond. Jos moved up beside him and inhaled sharply. He had heard of such engines in theory, seen the plans, the blueprints, but nothing could have prepared him for the actual presence of the great machine that dominated the room.
    It was the size of a large house, a mass of heaving metal and plastic. Parts were of nickel, parts of ivory, parts had certainly been filed or sawn out of rock crystal.  It was huge, brutish and ugly but with a strangely compelling elegance, like some sort of prehistoric predator swimming the oceans of space, devouring all that entered its path. But most entrancing was the engine’s strange song. From the depths of its belly came a ghostly sound, like a howl or a whale song. At irregular intervals it broke free and filled the room with an eerie song. And beneath it all was the purring hum, a note so low and loud that it made teeth buzz and bones vibrate.
    Surrounding the beast were dozens of displays, each shooting multicoloured readouts into the air, relaying the demands of the engine. The technicians scurried around and obeyed the whim of the machine, whether by pushing the buttons, turning the dials or pulling the levers that were spread around the room in a seemingly random manner. But arcane white markings painted on the steel walls suggested that beneath the chaos was a deeper order - an order that the uninitiated could not perceive.

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 12 - JOE

 

Chapter 12 marks the half-way point for the Book of Josiah. We've heard a lot from Josiah and Jos, but what about Joe? We last saw him in chapter 6 when an old friend asked him to help terraform the moon.

    Joe had already been awake for nearly an hour when his alarm went off. He had barely been able to sleep at all, his mind full of niggling doubts and vague worries. Today was the day.
    He had gone to bed early, to be at his best, but sleep had deserted him. For hours he had tossed and turned, unable to hide from his memories, unable to slip into darkness, away from thought and fear. When he had finally drifted off, sleep had been capricious. He had woken more times during the night than he cared to remember. No, it wasn’t his sleep, it was his dreams that had betrayed him, over and over again. And then, at 6:34 he had woken and that was it. Since then he had done nothing but stare at the clock and replay his thoughts.
    It was 7:30 am. There was no real need for Joe to get up quite this early, but he had been anxious that he might not have enough time. He didn’t want to be late, nor have to rush. But now, in the harsh light of day, Joe couldn’t bring himself to stir. It had been too long and he wasn’t sure he could trust himself. What if he failed? This was a big chance, an opportunity to do something and leave a mark on the world. What if he said something stupid or irrelevant? How long had it been? He watched the seconds and the minutes ticking away and couldn’t muster the will to move his legs. Today was the day.

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 10 - JOS

    The ventilation shaft was dark and narrow, cold and dry. Crawling through the tunnels, Jos had a few bare centimetres on either side. His knuckles were raw, the muscles in his hand ached while his knees protested every movement. The ceiling was low and irregular - Jos kept banging his head. The air had a strange, metallic taste, and was far colder than Jos was used to. Back home he had never gone out much, there had been no need. He was glad to have his coat with him now, and tried to wrap it tighter around his body. The shaft was too narrow and he could not get it to work. Damn, he was too old to be crawling on his hands and knees.
    Ahead, barely visible in the darkness, was Jonah, who seemed to move through the shaft effortlessly, as if he had been born there. He made it look so easy. Had he the choice again, Jos would have chosen an alternative route. This might be safer and faster but if he hit his head one more time, he would scream some choice obscenities. There was only one thing that Jos knew for certain: these shafts had not been designed for crawling through.

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 7 - JOSIAH

Not sure what this is about? Here's my introduction.

Chapter 5 is the continuation of the story of Josiah begun in chapters 1, 2 and 5. But remember Jos and Joe, as all three stories impact each other.

Josiah woke with a start, shaking and trembling. What was going on? It was too dark to see anything. He looked around in panic, eyes wide, breathing quickly. He was drenched in an icy sweat, bed sheets clinging to his body. Then he realised that he was in his room and collapsed back into the bed, shivering with cold and the remains of terror. It had all been so real, Security was everywhere. Duke had been killed, and Amber… crushed beneath falling barrels. Amber was dead.
    Wasn’t she? No, it was just another stupid bad dream, Amber was fine.
    But they had gone to the market, followed the small man, hadn’t they? When did reality end and the dream begin? As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, he wasn’t sure. He needed a drink. But first...
    “God of Steel, watch over my soul as it drifts from my body,” he began automatically. What are you doing? There is no God of Steel, no soul to leave my body. You aren’t a Priest and you don’t believe in Steel. Why are you still praying?
    After a few words he gave up. There was no comfort there.
    Josiah clambered from bed, switched on the light that swung just above his head, and poured himself a glass of water. His hands were shaking and he spilt half the glass on the floor. Why was he so clumsy? Fact and fiction continued to intertwine inside his head. The blood exploding from Duke’s body, the barrels falling for eternity. He had been too far away, there was nothing he could have done. Was Amber dead? He knew that he had dreamt it but had the dream reflected reality or was it all in his mind?
    A coffee would help straighten his thoughts. He pressed the button for coffee but nothing happened. A gurgling sound and a smell of burning drifted from the Provider. The steel fist emblazoned on the machine stared at him. He sneered at it and knocked the Provider to the floor. It was some sort of cosmic joke, and he had had enough.
    He turned to the wall and ripped down the fist that hung there. Its sharp edges cut his finger but that only made him angrier. He threw the damned thing with furious strength. Shards of grey plaster scattered as it hit the wall.
    Then the phone rang.
    He switched on the monitor, aware that he was not yet dressed and was still trembling.
    “Merlin!” cried Amber excitedly, “good morning.”
    Confusion and relief intermingled in Josiah’s mind as he struggled to think of an appropriate thing to say.
    “What time is it?” was all he could come up with.
    “It’s 5:56 am precisely,” Amber answered, “I thought you might want to come for a drive.”
    “Do you normally call people at six in the morning?”
    “Well, you’re up aren’t you?”
    Josiah had to smile, all anger evaporating. “I suppose I am,” he answered.
    “Then what’s the problem?” Amber rejoined, “I’m on level 28, see you when you’re dressed.”
    Before Josiah could say anything else, the screen went dark. Embarrassed, he had to laugh.

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 4 - JOS

Chapter 4 continues the story of Jos, the first part of which was Chapter 3.

    Jos watched the chronometer slowly mark the passage of time. He had thought about sleeping but had given up. No matter how tired he was, he found sleep to be a coy mistress. He wanted to speak to Ammi, had wanted to ever since Jonah had been arrested - had that really happened? It all seemed so far away now, so unreal.
    At 7:30 am CET, the starship entered its daytime cycle, and the world onboard seemed to wake from its slumber. Though he had made this journey many times before, Jos still found the lack of objective time somewhat disturbing - day or night, the world beyond the window was as dark as ever. He was finding these little adjustments harder and harder to make. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and could no longer shrug off the space-lag as if the time difference was nothing but a blink of an eye.
    Ammi would probably be up by now but to be safe he waited another ten minutes. Was he afraid to call her? What should he say? It had all seemed so clear last night, so obvious what needed saying. Jos practised what he would say inside his head but was not satisfied with any formulation. At precisely 7:40 he gave up, resolved to just see what happened, and activated the computer. The display flickered into life, projecting the desktop directly into the air. Deftly, he manipulated the black keys before him, not even glancing down at the pad. This might have been a clumsy way of working but direct computer-mind interfacing was still in the embryonic stage. And anyway, the idea of such an interface, hacking a computer into your mind, was disgusting - he would use a keypad still.
    Selecting off-ship communications and the address of Ammi, he sat back and waited for the computer to find the connection. Soon enough, an image of his wife appeared on the display - she had obviously just washed her hair, which looked dark and heavy. Her hazel eyes were warm and she smiled as she saw him.
    “Jos! How nice to see you.” Ammi’s melodic voice filled the cabin. “I’m just going out the door. How’s the flight going?”
    “Fine, fine. As good as could be expected.”
    “That’s great. And you’ll be here in two days?”
    “A bit less - we should arrive tomorrow night.”
    “Great.”
    “How are you?” he asked, but it wasn’t what he wanted to say - the words stuck fast in his throat and sat there smoldering.
    “Fine. Nothing remarkable going on here. The usual bunch of patients - viruses, flu, ear infections - nothing in particular going on.”
    An uncomfortable silence fell between them.
    “Well, I must be off,” Ammi said, “busy day at the surgery.”
    “Yeah. See you soon, have a good day.”
    “You too. Bye.”
    “Bye.”
    Ammi’s image blinked out. Jos shut down the computer.
    Something inside him was missing. He felt a hole and did not know what to do about it. He should have told her how much he loved her, how much he cared for her - at least he should have told her about Jonah. But no. He said nothing. He always said nothing. Why could he not talk to her? There hadn't used to be silences in their conversations, had there? There was always tomorrow. Maybe when he saw her it would be easier.
    Jos felt a headache looming at the back of his skull - too many sleepless nights. What he really needed was a good breakfast, put everything else out of his mind.
    The walk to the restaurant was not long but Jos found himself thinking about last night, when he had taken a similar walk. Jonah loomed large inside his head. The whole encounter had been so strange. Why had he poured his heart out to someone he barely knew? And some of the things he had said. Nonsense yet seemingly true. He could not explain it.
    Considering that it was still relatively early, the restaurant was quite busy. Jos joined the back of the brisk queue, trying to decide what would be the best cure for a looming headache.
    “I wouldn’t have the eggs if I were you,” came a low, murmuring voice from next to his ear.

A Dream of a Place - Tu Bishvat, Israel and the Sandman

My latest piece for Jewish Eyes on the Arts - Oholiav is up now in which I explore dreams of places, and touch upon the dark side of mythology: A Dream of A Place - Tu Bishvat, Israel and the Sandman.

In some ways, this article should be read in concert with my earlier post on why mythology matters, because while I believe that mythology is central, it can be abused to demonise the other, casting them in the role of the archetypal evil. This balance is a key part of my current thinking, that although myth is central, it should not be confused with history/reality.

Happy tu bishvat!

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 3 - JOS

The Book of Josiah, chapter 3, and this is where things get complicated. Remember that there are 3 parallel timelines, Josiah, Jos and Joe. Chapter 3 we meet Jos for the first time. To try to keep things clear, each chapter will be labelled with the name of the character in the heading, and will be given different colour and font wordles for images. Chapter one is here and chapter two is here.

    The dream sucked him in. He tried to fight it but could not - there was nothing to hold onto. Jos was pulled into it.

    When he next escaped the darkness, Jos stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling. Semi-conscious, he contemplated the dream. He knew where it was going - he had dreamt it before, many times. He did not want to see the end of it, not again. When he returned to sleep, he would dream of something else. Something nice.
    Having resolved the issue to his satisfaction, Jos rolled over, fell asleep once more, and returned to the nightmare.

    Jos’ eyes snapped open, a cry of terror forming in his throat. Then he stopped himself. Just another stupid dream, he thought, another stupid dream. Pushing aside the unfamiliar sheets and rough blankets, he sat up and looked around. The room was very dark, with only a trickle of light from under the door and the glitter of distant stars beyond the porthole.  A sudden and violent cough seized him and shook his body. Was the water in here drinkable? No matter, he had to drink something, quell the scratching in his throat. Jos swung his legs out of the too-soft bed and started to stand. A noise to his right stopped him dead - a soft moaning, a small rustle of the sheets.
    Eyes half-closed and burning with exhaustion, he could barely see a thing. With a gentle thought command, Jos brought the lights on to low. And had to stifle a cry of surprise. There was someone else in his bed. A woman. And it was not his wife.
    Half out of bed, Jos stopped, his mind simply grinding to a halt on a single question - what had he done?
    The very question betrayed himself. He knew what had happened and yet resolutely refused to move his thoughts back to the night before. Still, the harder Jos fought not to remember, the more the details flooded into his mind. The smell of her perfume, exotic and tantalising, like nothing Ammi ever wore. Snake skin shoes, daringly unethical. Long fingers caressing a flute of champagne in the bar, as everyone had gathered to watch the news. Her lips, so red, so intoxicating. A glorious body, wrapped in strange cloth that shifted from brown to gold, a neckline so low it was almost indecent.
    All evening they had been making eye-contact, her green eyes coy and smiling; they promised everything yet gave little. He had been drinking like a man who arrives at a party and finds he doesn’t know anybody there - drinking to fill a hole in his life. From the moment she walked in he had been enthralled but tried to deny it, to pass it off as nothing. So why did he offer to buy her a drink? He was so cold and she had said yes. He had never dreamed she would want him, not with his muscle turning to fat, his hair receding, becoming grey. But she had said yes, smiled, laughed, played with her silken hair. When she invited him back to her room, was it just the alcohol that made him go?
    And after that he had no memory. Had they had sex? That was the crucial question. Since he was naked in bed and his clothes were lying around the room in small heaps, he could only assume the worst. Had he at least enjoyed it, this betrayal? Why couldn’t he remember? All that was left a growing sensation of guilt and shame. What had he done?
    The only thing he could do now was run.
    As quickly and as quietly as he could manage, Jos gathered up his things. The cough returned a couple of times, seizing his body with tremors. He held them in as much as he could but the noise seemed unbearably loud in his ears. Each time he glanced furtively at the woman - he didn’t even know her name - to see if she was stirring but she never moved. All he wanted to do was to get back to his room, have a drink of water, and go back to sleep.
    He was dressed in under a minute and quickly searched for his keys, all the time trying to avoid looking at the bed. Eventually he found them, lying underneath her blouse in the corner of the room. He moved to the door.
    “Jos?”
    Damn, she was awake. What should he do?
    “Yes?” he answered quietly.
    No response came.
    Jos hardly moved, straining to hear any kind of noise.
    A moment later, a soft snoring told him that she was asleep once more. He turned off the lights and fled.

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 1 - JOSIAH

And she conceived again, and bare a daughter.
And God said unto [Hosea], call her name Lo-ruchama, 'not-forgiven':
for I will no more have mercy upon the house of Israel;
but I will utterly take them away.
    -Hosea 1:6

ONE - JOSIAH

    Where was he? With madness glazing his eyes, he stared about himself. In bed but where? And then slowly, as the dream fell away, he recognised the grey sheets that half covered him, the bare white walls, the metal floor, the steel sink in the corner - he was in his chambers. A long sigh fell from Josiah’s mouth and he collapsed back into the pillow. His mouth was so dry, his sheets were soaked with cooling sweat, and yet Josiah forced himself to lie down again and close his eyes; not to sleep but to say the prayer for bad dreams. He clutched his pendant - a metal fist over a full moon - and, too easily, the words came to his lips and he mumbled them to the darkness - he had had too many nightmares of late.
    “God of Steel, watch over my soul as it drifts from my body. Let no truth be found in evil dreams and may no harm come to me through these visions. For you are the One That Dreams Not. And make my flesh as steel. Amen.”

Tales of the Dreamscape - Treasure House - Part 2

Part 1 is here.

The staff -
Symbol Unreal,
Topped with serpents’ feathers.
Blood is in their eyes and hearts -
They fight.


* * *

For escape eternal we still yearn,
From words of pain and worlds of hate,
The corroded key has one last turn.

The passion, the craving, still they burn,
We rail against the Dreamscape’s fate
For escape eternal we still yearn.

The key itself has one concern
To open up each potential gate -
The corroded key has one last turn.

Before we choose, we still must learn
How our hunger we can sate -
For escape eternal we still yearn.

The last door we have yet to earn,
How can we sit, and pause, and wait?
The corroded key has one last turn.

But the edge of the door we can discern,
And pray it won’t arrive too late,
For escape eternal we still yearn
The corroded key has one last turn.

Tales of the Dreamscape - Treasure House - Part 1

The deepest cave in Dreamscape’s shifting land,
Beneath the wondrous home of Duke and consort,
Contains the greatest treasures that the world
Has ever known, or dreamt in midnight hours
When the moon is low, and the stars are free and twinkling
In the cloth of softest night and darkest sky.
Wherever gold has glittered, silver shone,
The cave of dreams is there, gently waiting -
And all your treasures are contained within
Where all desires begin.

And when the wind blows cold from northern climes
With diamond snow from Dreamscape’s farthest shores,
The proud and lordly Duke of Dreams trembles,
Seeks refuge in the cave of ancient trove,
Wandering winding ways among the gems,
That shift their forms as the dreamer lingering stares.
He finds a treasure never seen before,
Inspects it with his bright and piercing gaze -
The choicest prize your mind has deftly wrought,
Is there as solid thought.

Dreamscape - Behind the Scenes

So far I've posted seven tales of the Dreamscape, posted in the order in which I wrote them. They are:
•Gladiator
•Birth Day
•Sir Gallant 1 and 2
•Genesis
•Prophecy
•The Dinner Party 1 and 2
•Woman of his Dreams 1 and 2

But I haven't written anything about why or how I began to write this cycle. I decided that that ought to change.



Origin of the Dreamscape
I've been working on stories in this world for a long time. I distinctly remember when the first words of Gladiator came into my head as I was walking to the train station in Bristol having spent the weekend with my future wife. Suddenly the opening words coalesced in my mind, and I had to keep repeating them over and over so as not to forget them before I had a chance to write them down.

That was about 7 years ago.

The initial idea was, I believe, the science-fiction element - a dystopian London where the homeless are driven underground and forced to live in the dark and filth. There I imagined they created their own parallel reality of dream and fable, a place where no one suffered and everyone could have all they wanted. I believe that the element of the dream world was very much inspired by Neil Gaiman's Sandman (which is my favourite book of all time and if you haven't read the series, you really must).

Development of the Tales
But what made this idea better than many others I've had over the years, I think, is that this world provided a frame for far more than just science-fiction stories. In this world of dream and fable I could explore ideas of religion, fantasy, mythology and fairy-tale.

I realised that within this one world I could tell stories in every genre I love.

(more after the jump)

Tales of the Dreamscape - Woman of his Dreams - Part 2

Part 1 is here.

    Jack Numbskull sat on the rock outside the black fortress, held his head in his hands and stared glumly at the blue sky. His mother had been right after all, he had no idea where even to begin - the king of the giants? four rings that are five? what did any of it mean? No, he would have to go home a failure. What would his father think of him if he could see him now?
    And just as he was sure he would never see Aurore’s smiling face again, he heard the magical sound of her singing rising over the hills.
    He bounded up and raced towards her, his heart thundering inside his chest as he beheld her beauteous form.
    “Jack,” she said, and offered up a small, shy smile.
    “Aurore, my love,” he replied, “I was beginning to think I would never see your beauty again, for your father’s challenges are too much for me.”
    “Oh Jack,” she answered, “do not fret - I will help you overcome all obstacles, for together surely nothing can stand against us.”
    He grasped her delicate hand in his, and gently kissed it.
    “You are as generous as you are radiant,” he said, and together they strode off towards Grayhome, the land of the giants.

Tales of the Dreamscape - Woman of his dreams - Part 1

 

   Her beauty was, of course, legendary. Even in the Palace of Dreams itself, tales of Aurore’s golden curls and entrancing smile were whispered over the endless feasts. Talk of her beauty was the joy of every young man who dreamt of romance, and the envy of every young woman who dreamt of the same. But hand in hand with the tales of her beauty came stories of her father, Noxus, and his unreasonable and overwhelming attachment to his only child - for he would not allow anyone to court her who had not passed a series of gruelling tasks. What exactly these tasks were, none could say for certain. Some described ferocious battles with seven knights dressed in black. Others said that whoever would marry Aurore must best her in a chariot race or bring her a black diamond. But all one could say for certain was that many had sought her hand and so far, none had succeeded and, having been bound to secrecy, none would describe the challenges they had faced. But suitors kept on trying and kept on dreaming.
    Jack Numbskull had just turned sixteen years old, and felt ready to strike out on his own. His mother, not being an especially adventurous dreamer, had raised him on a small farm. Jack had helped to plough the fields, sow the seeds and bake the bread of dreams. At night, they had sat by the fire and Jack listened to his mother tell him all about the noble deeds of the Duke of Dreams, the Dusk Warrior and Sir Gallant, grandmaster of the mouse. Jack did not remember his father - his mother would say nothing about him when asked but shake her head sadly - so Jack used to imagine that his father had also been a brave hero, riding to the rescue of those in distress.
    Now Jack was no longer a child and he longed to have his own adventures, go on quests that his father would be proud of. So naturally, when his mother told him the story of Aurore, he resolved to make his way to her house immediately.
    “Jack, my son, no one has yet passed the tests of Aurore’s father, Noxus. How can you hope to succeed where so many have failed?”
    “Mother, I must go to seek my fortune wherever it lies. The Unreal gods will guide me.”
    “Jack, Jack. Must you go? Will you not stay here and mind the farm. Who will help me when the harvest comes?”
    Jack smiled. “Dream up a donkey mother, for I must be off to see the Dreamscape and win my bride. It’s what my father would have wanted.”
    His mother smiled a little at that, and nodded absently. Jack Numbskull gave her a hug, a kiss on the cheek and set out on his way, whistling tunelessly as he went.