“I feel the call and only a distant part of me fights it. I feel the voices, all of them, seducing me with sweet promises. The song comes from beneath the water, muffled melodies that give a will of their own to my limbs. The wind is quiet! The trees are asleep!
Oh sweet drink of culture, your waters pour once more from the great depths of the mountain. I drink as though I’ve never drank before! Great gulps-the essence falling through my empty, parched throat. I look around. The trees are asleep! The wind is gone!
The sun shines on the horizon and up in front, the land is green and the ice has melted. The song comes from the water! I think I discern a pattern in the song, it gives me the impulse to look back. I give in to it. The beautiful wood is silent in its sleep, but not the roots of the trees-they ache and throb inside the black moist earth. I raise my head to smell the wind. It’s only a mild scent of pine-a bit tingly but still comfortable.
My heart rushes as I see the view above the lake. I think I spot a siren hiding behind the rock over there! The song, it enthralls me; my body moves above the ice. The voices are now distinct, each instrument-a distinct perspective. I try to listen to each at its time. There’s no sight of the trees and to the wind I give no thought.
The nimph comes out from behind the rock and starts singing. Her voice is a little shrewd; not enough to scare me while trying to ascertain a small authority in the exchange. She moves towards me; slowly, steadily. The words are in an other language, but the tone… the melody… The same wind that brings her song to me, plunges in and out of her orange hair. Her dark eyes stare directly into mine-I think she doesn’t see the trees behind me.
I’m still moving towards her-bare feet sliding; her tail sliding on the uncertain ice. We touch our hands; lock our eyes and engage in the dance. I never knew I could dance, it’s been so long… I barely notice the wind and neither of us even suspects the crawling roots.
The dance becomes intense but then we stop, unsure of the next step. We look ahead for a a few long seconds. We are so close to coming clear of the ice… I think she sees the roots coming from behind me. Now the wind pushes me back from her and in it I can hear her whisper: Come with me!”
So this is a dream I had the night before and I’m a bit glad that I woke up before the terror could fully take hold of me. I shall try not to think of it…
Yours truly, Oliver!