Dreams on the Night of the Blood Moon
I went down, down, down the spiral stairs, following the path I do so often in my dreams. At the bottom of the steps, I am usually met by a large white rabbit.
On the night of the Blood Moon, things were not as they had been.
My spirit guide, my white rabbit rabbit, lay dead, sprawled in a stark field that had been a blossoming meadow. Everywhere, in every direction, was desolation. No sign of life. Not even flies buzzed around the corpse of my most dependable of friends.
I walked quickly away. I couldn't bear the sight of him. I headed toward the nearby woods. Again, everything was different. The forest was quiet, empty, bleak. The trees were stripped of their leaves. No matter where I looked or where I walked, everything was death.
At long last, I emerged from the woods. My spirits lifted at the sight of a newly green meadow. A half dozen small brown hares hopped quickly away, startled at my appearance. Small red hearts (anatomical) fluttered by on delicate sparrow wings as I walked into the green field.
I walked further, following the fluttering hearts, into a beautiful display of blossoming red roses. Too late I realized that the vines of the roses were entangling me, the thorns tearing at my gown and my flesh (I'm often clothed in formal Victorian garb in these dreams).
Fortunately, I suddenly possessed a scythe and was able to carve my way out of the roses and escape back to the safety of the field.
Vengefully, I caught one of the hearts and sank my teeth into it, savoring the taste.
Life brings the unexpected. Even the cornerstones of our lives can be taken from us.
We may walk through a dark, dark place, but life continues. Eventually, we emerge on the other side. New life. New possibilities.
Pain is always available to us, but we can work toward inner strength. You never know the tools you may possess until you are truly in dire need (like a handy scythe ;) )