I awoke that night shaking with fear. The dream that roused me faded fast, little remained once my senses had returned. What had it been, that had caused such fear within me? I cannot say. Not yet. What I felt was that I had met something. Seen something. Something I was not meant to see. Something no one was meant to see. Something of colors and shapes unknowable. 

I couldn’t have known then. Could never have imagined what had begun that night. Within minutes, no memories remained, only feelings, emotions, raw instinctual fear. I began to feel rather silly, being so afraid of a dream I could no longer remember. It was, after all, just a dream. Dreams are not real. Dreams cannot hurt you. Dreams are the realm of madness and bereft of logic. They do not matter to a waking mind. This, I once believed. I was a fool.

I went back to sleep, dreaming normal dreams, as normal as such things can be. I woke the following morning feeling nothing, remembering little but a brief period of waking during the night. I went about my day, all as normal, not thinking about what had transpired at all. For what reason would there be to think of a brief time awake amongst the darkness of one’s room, where nothing happened at all? Certainly, nothing had happened at all.

Days passed, weeks, little of note. The drudgery and dullness of everyday life. Until one night, I awoke, shaking with fear. I had seen it again. A shining circular lattice of crystalline color, shifting and twirling, unspeakably beautiful. A dark void around it, and within its center. I did not, could not, know what it was. Not yet. Memories remained. I knew it was not just a dream. This had been an awakening. To what, I could not yet know. At that time, I knew only one thing: The words “She is.”

The day did not pass as normal. I went to work, but I did little of it. Instead I thought about what I had seen, what I now knew. What had that shining vision of glorious light been? Who was ‘She?’

‘She is’... She is what? What did it all mean? I knew there was meaning. There had to be. I found myself doodling the shapes I had seen. What pitiful mockery I made of the glory I’d seen. But I had to know, to see, to understand. But truly, I could not, would not. Not yet. I just wasn’t ready.

That night, I saw it again. I was no longer afraid. For what was there to fear in such beauty? I stared happily into that twirling vision for what felt like days, but had only in reality, been a night’s sleep. As I awoke in the morning, I realized that I had not been woken by the dream this time. Perhaps I had… accepted it now. I had felt that same presence. That same sense of power. I had known it was there from the start. I had feared it greatly. Now, though… I felt as if its attention had been turned to me. As if it had seen me staring at it, and stared right back. Not into my eyes, but into my very soul, into the core of my being, deeper than even I myself dared venture. What had it seen there, I wondered? Why had it seen fit to calm me? For I knew it had done. As I watched the morning light filter through my window, I found myself wishing I’d had more time asleep.

As I sat at work that day, I did nothing but ponder the meaning of what I had experienced. She is… Glorious light… Powerful presence… What was this? What did it all mean? As that thought crossed my mind, a light poured over my thoughts. She… She is… She is the light. The light was not merely a vision of beauty, the light was She, She was the presence, it was all one in the same! I now wanted nothing more but to sleep once again, to dream. To see, to watch, to understand Her. 

That night, as my head hit the pillow, my consciousness waned immediately. This was abnormal, as I was a fitful sleeper, many tossings and turnings before the bliss of sleep would deign to take me. Tonight was different. As I was faced with the light once again, with Her, with She, I sensed nothing new from Her. She simply watched, the same as I watched Her. Her shifting facets of blue and pink and purple, drifting in circular patterns, drawing all my attention, all my focus, all that I was, deeper into Her. I needed nothing else when I was watching Her. She was beautiful beyond description. She took notice of that thought. I could tell. She liked it. I had pleased Her. What I felt then is embarrassing to describe, and I shall not record it here. Suffice to say, my sleep clothes, as well as my sheets, needed washing in the morning. 

As I awoke that morning, I felt a deep sense of loss. I wanted nothing more but to return to sleep, to stave off the need to get out of bed, to go to work, to do anything but stare at Her. Despite this, I did so anyway. Life was more important than my recurring dreams, no matter how perfect they felt. I find it hard to believe I ever thought as I did then.

Months passed this way, blissful watching at night, dull, colorless life at day. I began to understand what She wanted. She wanted me to watch, to see, to understand. She needed me for a greater purpose, one that I was not yet ready to fulfill. I knew now, her name. She was The Feathered Goddess. Her true name was not pronounceable by human tongue, not recordable by human writing. It mattered not. The Feathered Goddess would do. What She was, I still did not know. She did not need me to know, and so I did not, would not. 

Her nightly visits were brighter now, more real, more intense. What had been vague dreams, were now simply reality. Sleep was for nothing else but Her, now. Rest was no longer important. I had quit my job, cut ties with my family and friends. They would never have understood. Not yet.  But I understood. I knew what My Goddess required of me. I was ready. She came closer, becoming lager in my vision, closer, and closer still, my skin tingling with sensations I had never felt before. At last, the void within her embraced me, and I found my true purpose. I did not wake that night. I never woke again. I need not be awake, be away from Her, to fulfill my purpose.

For you see, one need not lie still, eyes closed, dead to the world, to sleep. Not when The Feathered Goddess has embraced them as She has me. I walk, I see, but always through Her. I wander the streets, haggard and dull to the world, only truly seeing, experiencing the ‘real’ world, when She deems it necessary. This is why I write now. This is no mere retelling of events. This is my purpose, you see. What I am required to do is spread the Goddess as far and wide as can be. All I need do to spread Her influence, is gift unto another, these words: Be Under the Watchful Eye of The Feathered Goddess.

Sleep soundly~