brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Ruby Blood Dragon Witch Light)
So, I had a fascinating dream last night that was at best a "Lost Girl" fanfic and at worst a bizarre fantasy wish fulfillment. I, myself, as I am, was a Light Fae with naturally indigo hair and eyes, whose skin gained a pale purple tint while my powers were in use. I was a healer, for myself and others; I could even pull someone from the brink of death, although it weakened me. Conversely, I could also cause extreme pain and injury to the point of death. I also had inborn herbal medical knowledge and strong empathic powers that were both receptive and projective, which I used to soothe the wounded. Weirdly enough, dark purple butterfly wings would magically erupt from my shoulders while I worked and then would vanish - and I was actually able to hover and glide. Trick called my kind "airmeds" - which, in the canon universe, made sense, as they already have lokis and serkets, which are singular names of deities (Loki, Norse god of mischief, Serket, an Egyptian goddess of minor healing). Airmed is a Tuatha De Danann, a goddess of healing and resurrection.
Digressing: I have a sense that the writers may take advantage of using individual gods as Fae species. I actually love that about the Lost Girl universe. Being a singular god would be even more powerful. Makes me really wonder if the Wanderer is a god himself.
Returning to the dream: Bo and I became lovers for a bit, as I found her chi and powers fascinating, and we would feed on each other during sex. It appeared that I was immune to Bo's succubus blood, that if she bled on me I would not become enamored or obsessed (ie, Ryan the loki). I also slept with Hale a few times, and having a siren and an empath together was rather hilarious. Interestingly enough, Kenzi didn't mind.
I became useful when Kenzi was attacked by a wolf shifter that Dyson had to kill. The fact that I was unable to heal my own brain injury fascinated both Trick and Evony, as well as the Una Mens. The dream started fading as Bo and Kenzi invited me to crash with them for a while while I was being hunted, since an active airmed with an healing-resistant brain injury was extremely rare and highly sought-after for medical experiments. I mean, if the wounds I healed were severe enough, I would break down sobbing and spasming, have a seizure, and then become near-catatonic for several minutes. That's not a good thing for a Fae desperately needed in battle.
There was a point where I expressed specific distaste with Doctor Lauren. I still don't like her much. Bo and Dyson should really keep acting on their love for each other. I know Dyson is 1500 years old and patient, but really. And then there is Tamsin. Mmm, Tamsin.

I believe the main reason I had such a dream with such a highly specific original character was because I was researching the healing abilities of the indigo plant as well as the transformative mythology of the butterfly. Still... fascinating. I didn't feel like a Mary Sue. Considering that "Lost Girl" is filled to the brim with potential Mary Sue characters both in canon and in fanfiction, I imagine my character's Faeness rated low.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Ruby Blood Dragon Witch Light)
And... some days I wake up from ethereal dreams I barely remember having the intense sense of former pointed ears, former wings growing from my shoulders, and a former unicorn horn growing from my forehead. If I look in a mirror before the dream is fully shaken, my eyes still have a faceted crystal glow, white enough to show every color, ringed by blue-tinted midnight black, and my skin shines from beneath, light rippling across my hands, like reflections in rivers.
Sometimes in those moments I just don't feel human. And it makes me feel wonderful.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Light Pale)
Why is it that, in most dreams where I am in physical danger, I am unable to scream or move quickly?
My last dream involved a bad fall and crash at the top of the stairs, while a large group of people were downstairs having a small quiet party. Something supernatural was with me, something insidious. I grabbed the stair ledge and pulled myself up to a kneeling position. I yelled my husband's name, but it was only a whisper. I couldn't call for help, not with the shadowy creature surrounding me. I was moving so slowly. It felt as though nobody was in the house but me, me and the cats.
And abruptly, I realized that nobody was in the house. Adam was at work. There was no party. The cats were all downstairs. It was only me and the shadow entity. I struggled to call on my internal resources, my spirit guardians, but even my psychic voice was muffled. I was not afraid. I was determined. I was badly injured, and I only had myself, and my powers to create weapons and defenses were drained. I stopped trying to stand. I knelt there and mouthed words, calling on the water in the bathroom, the air circulating around the house, the earth under the house, the fire downstairs used to light the gas stove. I pulled in all into me, and with a desperate burst, I unleashed it. The shadow creature shrieked and vanished.
Without any warning at all, the house filled with presence again. There was that quiet downstairs party. I whispered my husband's name again, struggling to turn it into a cry. Someone must have heard. Adam came up the stairs and found me, sagging against the door of the bathroom, my nose bleeding. He spoke to me. He half-carried me to the bedroom and helped me lie down. He brought damp towels and tissues and water with electrolytes. I managed, somehow, to tell him that a negative spirit had entered the house and stole my strength, and I pulled all the elemental power I could to drive it away. He was very proud but also puzzled, since the house was supposed to be powerfully shielded and guarded. I was crying but I didn't mean to cry. It was just a reaction without intention. He stroked my hair and curled up with me, and me took my hand and fed me energy and power and strength, and he said, "Go to sleep, my darling. I'll be monitoring you through our psychic bond and everything will be okay. I will strengthen the wards." He needed to check on our friends. He would back be up soon.
The dream ended there.

It has been something of a recurring thing: My slowness in dreams. My exquisite agony in dreams. My whispering words in dreams. Sometimes I can barely walk for the pain in my hips and knees. Sometimes I can only speak with thoughts instead of physical words. Sometimes my body is wrapped in a floating translucent shell and it is the only way I can move. In my dreams, the pain is so much worse than in reality. But I have access to weapons of all kind and I feel safe, even if something horrible grabs me.

When I was a child, I had flying dreams every night. Even astral projection. Like my father and cousins in their younger years. And if a harmful person appeared, I just waved my right hand fiercely, shouting "Shoo! Shoo!" to make then disappear.

When I was a child, I dreamed of dragons, of ancient tortoises, of unicorns mixed with white tigers, of phoenix birds with feathers of every color. Dragons have never been dangerous to me. Even if some were, there were always other dragons who were benevolent.

It is why I always bristle when I read an article comparing chronic pain to dragons. The only way I can see such battles happening is dragon against dragon. And I am a human amalgam of dragon, phoenix, tortoise, unicorn, white tiger, and fae, wrapped in the skin of a moonlight witch.

Then, why do my dreams cripple me? The only reason I can think of is to teach me to use the insides, the powers coming from my spirit and not my body. My body is very important and vital to me. But perhaps not so much in my dreams.

And I think this piece of art, beyond anything, is one of the greatest ways I can understand myself. Every time I look at it, I weep. I even have that same cane. I know Shinga and I barely know each other, but she knows chronic pain. She knows what being a warrior means. She was in the US Army and was badly injured and treated so poorly during therapy that she has severe PTSD. She is disabled badly. She knows battles. And I want to hold her and hold her and tell her what this means to me.

http://shinga.deviantart.com/art/Awaken-Warrior-and-Rise-378439320
awaken__warrior__and_rise_by_shinga-d69b9nc
(Note: Please please refer to Shinga before borrowing or using this image. Please use the Deviant Art link. This is her work. Copyright Shinga. The only reason I displayed the actual image was in case someone can't click on the link.)
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
The premiere of Season Two of my favorite TV series was on last night.
Holy shit.
Words fail.
I swear, they're going to kill me with this waiting and suspense thing. I hate having to wait until next week.

I don't think I have ever loved a show more. Except Firefly. And Buffy. But even then, not as much. Not at this level.

Part of me thinks it's because for my entire life, I've had recurring and serial dreams where I had superhuman powers. Not because I wanted to be better or different, but because I wanted something better and simpler than the slightly damaged and broken body I already had. I wanted my brain to be stronger than my body. I wanted telekinesis and pyrokinesis and electrokinesis and biokinesis and everythingkinesis and all the other -kinesis powers. I wanted to fly. I wanted to create psychic shields and force fields. I wanted to step into other dimensions and astral planes. I wanted to be able to heal with just my hands and mind. I wanted to run fast and strong and feel free. I wanted telepathy and telempathy, so I knew how people would react when I did or said something. I wanted to not be so shy or awkward or socially inept.
I guess I wanted to be someone like Jean Grey from The X-Men. Not so much a Hero, just someone with a little extra. Something to release me from the confusion that was my body. Something that helped me feel confident, so I could talk to my peers easily, not feel so ashamed, not feel so scared. Not feel like I was tumbling down and down every time I tried to get involved with the world.
I wanted to have control over something.
(And therein lies some of the seed of anorexia nervosa, but that's another story.)
So, instead, harnessing my gifts as a writer, I wrote stories. Science fiction stories and fantasy stories. And all my characters had superhuman powers. They were flawed and human and imperfect, but they had those powers.
Guess why.

And then, this television show comes along, and with every episode that I watch, I get chills and surges of emotion.

They can say what they will about that show -- the naysayers, the detractors, the negative reviewers. I have my reasons for loving it, the concept and the stories and the characters.
My reasons.

That's all.

Thanks for listening.

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