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Home again. Home again.

So, the wife and I are now done with the most stressful parts of this year. We have finished with our son’s graduation, had the party, cleaned up after it (well, mostly) and went on vacation. We survived and now it is back to life as normal.

Yeah, I am not as impressed with it as I think I should be either. I think that may just be the illusion of vacation fading away. We spend time resetting to normal after leaving the daily routine.

I am just glad I get to take my wife with me. She keeps everything tolerable.

L. E. White


The way is quiet. It is an innocuous hole into the ground that most people overlook. One that starts out as a path burrowed into the soft rock that lies beneath the ground in this part of the world.

Most people walk by it, ignoring the cave. The ones who do see it are special, touched in a dark sort of way from within the dreams that are not remembered on waking. Their minds have been opened to see the entrance and it is their fate to feel the curiosity that will lead them to look into that darkness.

The stone soon changes. Sand stone gives way to limestone that then changes to dark smooth rocks that leave an icky sensation on your skin if you reach out and touch them. The stones are not covered in slime or mold. The cave is dry and if you stand still and listen you do not hear the subtle sounds of small creatures that live in other caves. Despite this lack of life; despite this lack of source, if you touch the stone, you will find yourself compulsively wiping your hands on your pants; trying to remove the residue of the other world that now sticks to your skin.

The first gate you find is solid. It is not made from metal or wood, but from flesh so old that it is mistaken for stone. The first gate was a once living barrier that still pulses with a dark and twisted life of its own despite its transformation.

A column of symbols have been carved into this gate. No silly circle or shape holds them. They stand in a line, for despite all of the beauty in shapes and the geometry that man has created the true path is always based on the alignment of that which isn’t into that which is.

Each symbol sits still and quiet. No waking mind knows these words but those who can walk in dream may speak them. To speak them is to invite hell into your own heaven, an act of insanity that may only be embraced by the brave and foolhardy.

I know of none living today that have witnessed the splendor of the second gate. The dream walkers are coming, but they have not yet been shown the way. I will not tell you of the beauty of the second gate. Words fail in the presence of an aged eye. Crystal is close, but not enough.

I will share this vision. An image dragged from meditation and dream blended within the cauldron of the skull. There is a single word grown into the second door. Nothing could carve it, so it grew there instead. Not by that which would be called natural or un-natural, but by something else.

What has grown there is dark upon the light, yet to look upon it as you walk the ways of night is to be blinded by its brilliance.

This word has not been spoken aloud, but one day it will be. We gnash our teeth and rend the bones of minds in our efforts to see this come.

Even those that fly through dreams have not seen the third barrier. Yet we strive to as if moths drawn to a flame. Though we may burn, the lure is too strong to be ignored. Beyond the third gate is eternity.

It is not made, yet it is there; thoughts between spiral pillars that simply are. A line exists between. A line that allows us to know hear see feel that which is beyond the door.


So walk on past, petty creatures. Ignore the hole in the ground and hurry past as the chill of what you cannot comprehend crawls from the depths to place pin pricks of fear along your spine. Run in fear and cower beneath the sun.

We know it is there. We dare to walk the ways and stand in awe before the gates. We will open them, for we are chosen. You say we are touched, delusional and crazy, but what do you know. Your eyes have not been opened. Your world is nothing but illusion. The only difference is that more of you see your world which means that the majority rules. This means that you will through the weight of numbers decide that we are dangerous to ourselves. You push us aside or bind us to your will.

But not for long. No, not for long.

These small white stones will not crush my mind with their weight, despite what you believe. They will not remove my freedom. Force them down with drowning water or melt them straight into that which would reject them. It does not matter. That which was made by man cannot undo that which was made beyond man.

Tonight, as the night before, I will walk the ways you cannot. I will enter the cave you do not see and I will relish the touch of the stones instead of wiping it off. I will look upon the gates and I will scream at them to open.

I walk a different path, and you, good doctor, cannot stop me.

Categories: Uncategorized
  1. June 13, 2012 at 1:00 PM

    Congratulations on your Son’s graduation! And I really enjoyed ‘Dreaming’! ;}

    • June 13, 2012 at 1:03 PM

      Thank you and I am glad you enjoyed it. I spent some time last weekend discussing Lovecraft and “Dreaming” came from that.

      • June 13, 2012 at 2:16 PM

        I enjoyed it immensely, thank you for sharing it!

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