The Dreamcatcher

How long have I been here? I don’t remember. Years at least. I only starter remembering recently. Everything before that is gone.

My memory is different now, it is not what it used to be. Not physical. I am no longer connected to a brain, my body is nothing more than my dwelling place, my prison. It is long dead, only kept alive by magic.

My memory is not mental. My mind has been stripped bare, nothing of it left, the threads that made up my psyche all untangled, unwrapped and ripped away. It happened long before I began to remember again. Before then, I lost everything.

I don’t remember, but I feel the time I lost my memories. The first time. And the second. After that, years of emptiness. Only recently I remember again.

I lost sanity. The world made sense and then it didn’t. The rules that controlled the world are now all different. They were obscured but simple. Now they lay bare before me and they are incomprehensible. It is impossible to understand the world even if I can see everything clearly.

I lost all senses. I see and yet I don’t. My eyes lost function and turned grey years ago. But I see. I see everything. I see the colors of the hair and the eyes of people who visit me. I see their clothes and their possessions. I see their magics, the mana that flows within and around them. I see all those things and more.

I see things nobody sees. I see threads. Thin, microscopic, minuscule, incomprehensibly small. They are everywhere. They permeate everything. The flesh, the muscles, the bones. They are woven within the magic they others use. They surround every mote of mana that is swirling around, on its own accord or made to dance by others.

I see it all. I see the tiny specks inside of others. Souls. That’s what they are. So tiny it’s impossible to see them, yet I do.

Compared to the tiny amounts of mana and the threads that surrounds those specks, they are like grains of sand floating within a world’s biggest ocean. But they are potent. If the ocean can quench the thirst of a giant for one day, the speck can quench it for the rest of giants unending life.

Such power. Hidden within those specs is unending, unmoving force. Impossible to contain and yet it is. The force to extinguish stars and to light them, all in an impossibly small space.

It is all I am. I think with it. I feel with it. I am it. A tiny speck within the vast ocean, surrounded by mana. The threads surround me, hide me from sight, protect me and feed me. They come from a chunk of rock, embedded in the chest of the body that was me.

My body is nothing but a husk of a human. My muscles withered, my bones brittle and broken, my skin wrinkled. I should be dead now but I am not. The mana keeps me alive, not letting me escape. Not letting me to go on.

There is not much happening around me. Mostly it is dark, only few candles ripping the walls from the clutches of the darkness. Sometimes they go out, sometimes new ones are lit again.

Some people come. They say words, doing magic. The motes of magic, the threads the mana all swirl around them and around me, doing something. Sometimes nothing happens, other times small threads that connect my soul to whatever is left to my body and my mind break. They break, torn by the force of magic. It happens from time to time and I feel myself slipping.

I feel many things. My senses destroyed, but I still feel. I feel the taste of mana, the touch of the motes of magic, the music threads make when they are pulled.

The sounds are most exquisite. When somebody heals, the sound is soothing, like an angel speaking. What are angels? I don’t know. But I know the sound of their voice.

When somebody conjured water, the sound flows, one note to the next, smooth transitions within the music. The sounds are incomprehensible, impossible to hear or understand. But they are there.

When somebody tries to harm using magic, the music is sinister, creepy even scary sometimes. It speaks of death and agony. It wants release and peace.

One person comes often. He speaks to me, hoping that I can hear him. He calls me master and he speak of things to come. He waits for success, hoping to achieve whatever it is I wanted long ago. So silly. None of it matters any more.

He conducts rituals, speaking loudly and forcing mana to comply with his will. He brings women, many women all different yet the same. Within each, multiple specks are hidden, wavering from the sound of the rituals. I no longer understand what is done, but I listen and look and feel. I feel it. I will leave soon.

Once again a ritual is conducted, once again the words are spoken, once again the magic is guided. So similar yet different, the feeling here is foreign. The words are new.

First, nothing happens. Then, a string within me bursts, separating me from my body. Whatever the mess of the strings within me were, they all untangle at once, no longer interconnected, just a bunch of separate things.

I feel myself floating up. I float to the ceiling and beyond, up to the night sky. Whatever strings were within, all follow me. My body dissolves, turning into pure mana, following the speck of light that is me. The motes of magic follow, swirling around and dancing to the song that me soul makes, now free and unconfined.

All those things that made me before now swirl around me and come together. I feel each one of them. They were me and now they are me. The energy, now my body. It dances to the sound my soul makes.

And my soul, the tiny speck is swirling, faster and faster. Then the world breaks. It tears, distorting my perception, already warped years prior. No, it is not the world that breaks, it is my soul.

Invincible, immortal and indestructible, it splits apart, a tiny speck turns into inconceivably many more tiny specks. Each one takes the energy around it and dances with it. The energy is attracted by the specks that were my soul. They come together, condense and join, turning into something new. No longer just a soul, no longer just mana, no longer just a thread.

They specks and the energies change, merging, combining to make something new. Something unique and impossible. And then the specks come together, reforming me as I was before yet changed.

I feel a tether, pulling me closer to where I was before. I hear words of triumph, from the man that called me master. He did it.

I feel myself drawn down below, towards that place. Towards a woman with two specks within her, towards a second speck inside her belly. I don’t want that.

I feel the threads that connect us. I will them to disintegrate. One by one they unravel, turning into pure mana. The tether is broken, separating me and the tiny speck below. I am free from it, it is free from me.

I feel a magical recoil, violent and virulent energy born from breaking the chain connecting two souls together. I don’t want it to exist. I will it into nothingness, forcing it to disappear, to turn into pure mana. Then I take that mana and absorb it. I feel it changing once again, like the energy before.

Then I fall towards the ground. Caught by the whirlpool of mana that traverses the vast plains of this world. It carries me forward, my tiny soul picked up to be reborn anew.

I fall from the gentle hands of the breeze that carried me, falling towards a house below. Inside, there are two specks, close together. Their bodies and intertwined and intimate. They are doing something I forgot about. They are making love.

I am pulled towards the woman, as both of them spasm in pleasurable release. Their juices mix inside, creating a new life. Creating me. I am alive once again, my body growing.

As time goes on, my body connects to me. But the threads that connect us change, turning into what my soul has become. The new unique energy. As the threads change so does the body the connect to, changing it. Not visibly, no, on some deeper level it changes.

As my new mind developers, it too changes, touched by my unique soul. The threads, the mana within me is not blue like normal. It is golden, translucent light just like my soul. Magnificent.

I grow and become a baby. My body small and frail yet powerful and strong. My mind new and bare. Ready to experience new life. Soon I will be born.

I can think bigger thoughts now. Deeper thoughts. More complete. My mind expands my capabilities. I can feel emotions. I can feel alive.

Also, I feel tired a lot, so I rest. I rest a lot, not looking outside of my temporary confinement, sleeping. I don’t bother doing anything, my body too tired from growing.

When I am born, I am surprised. My father is not there, my mother looking ill and sickly. I don’t have time to look at her, she wraps me up in cloth and sets me before a house. Moments before she leaves, I look inside her and I see it. She is ill, her life sleeping away. I try to reach her and to cure her, untangling the threads that make her ill hoping for them to realign. I don’t know if I succeeded.

In a few hours a woman comes from inside the house. She is dressed like a cleric. Taking me inside, she dresses me and feeds me. Inside her a pure, vibrant light full of love and compassion. She feels it towards me and towards others. There are many other children here. We are in an orphanage.

The women who took me in is a priestess. Her name is Paula. She loves to help others, compassionate and kind, she tends to all the children. There are also other priestesses. They also have pure souls. Then there are others. Some are kind as the adults who tend to us, others are vile, their thoughts impure and corrupted. I can feel them but they can’t feel me. Mostly they just observe, waiting. I let them.

As I grow, my reach increases. At first it was only a meter, now it is twice as much. It is within that reach that I can affect the threads and mana that is present there. I can weave and shape the threads. If I am thirsty, I weave the threads to make water. If I am cold I can will warmth into existence. It is easy for me.

3 thoughts on “The Dreamcatcher”

  1. Well I just checked this out and the title is excellent. I think you could be more descriptive and paint a scene(fantasy world, Victorian era, modern world, … ), and I like the concept of the story.the

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