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Sound Of Thunder

Sound Of Thunder

Lying here hearing the sound of thunder coming from the front that rolled in during the night, and sometime during or after the midnight hour as I find myself drifting off to dream. Starting to begin the crossing of those blue hills on the border there, as I enter into the realm of Morpheus, the dream lord and finding myself drifting deeply and crossing the river. Knowing that you are also there in this plane of dreamscapes, as I have visions of both Camelot and those of chivalry combine and collide.

Looking around and seeing the mountains which seem to be reaching up to the heavens, as I look to the far horizon where lightning strikes splitting the sea. Then seeing you in a dress made of dark purple velvet heavily embroidered with what look to be medieval golden figures, as I find myself looking down and seeing myself dressed for either a fight or a battle as I find myself becoming like one of my Highland, Viking, or Spanish ancestors. Seeing myself in oiled leather and steel mail holding a broadsword in one hand and a battleax in the other. Looking like a figure from legend and being larger than life itself (being nothing but a man but appearing to stand ten feet tall), when those in leather boots and mail had the earth shake beneath their step.

As we now seem to find ourselves in what appears to be the days of Camelot from Le Morte De Arthur, and you were looking around for the guards of your castle and keep. As you find yourself wondering where they have all gone, for they have all left their posts, as you find yourself looking for a white knight on a fiery steed to carry you off and then be able to race faster than the sound of the thunder rolling overhead here in the dreaming. As I find myself scooping you up on a riding gallop and swinging you behind me through the cobbled streets as the steel shod hooves strike sparks, as you laugh through your pretty smile and riding further outward beyond reach of sanctuary across the fields, valleys, and streams.

Then all fades and turns to smoke and mist in the dawn's light when we return from Morpheus' plane and head back to daily life, and waking with the uncertain feeling and wondering if all had happened. As I seem to have recalled seeing you as a princess from those bygone days of old and I can see some of the vivid images when I close my eyes here in the dark light of the winter's sunlight.

Knowing that some of what was dreamed or lived has somehow been carried through to the new day or through genetics from those Viking and Highland warriors as well as from those Spanish Conquistadors I am descended from. To not give up the fight for those and things that matter and what life throws at us, and carrying the knowledge that even if I can't win my heart won't let me give in.

Copyright February 2004: Timberwolf International LTD.


This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than storiesspace.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright Timberwolf International LTD. All rights reserved. Copyrighted and protected under the copyright laws of both The United States and of The United Kingdom. Under U. S. Code Title 17 § 204. No unauthorized duplication by any means including electronic, or copying may be allowed unless permission is asked for in writing and permission therefore granted by the author or copyright holder, or his/her agent. In writing and signed by the owner of the rights conveyed or such owner’s duly authorized agent. And duly witnessed by his or her representative or duly assigned agent. Under penalty of copyright infringement or intellectual property theft. All violators will be prosecuted.

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