What If All Dreams Came True

Fireworks3-2[1]The morning sun shone through the rift of the blinds one morning, and my semi-conscious mind must have processed the red-eyelid-grid it saw as the fret-board of a cosmic stringed instrument. I began hearing the most beautiful music I have ever heard, as my mind’s eye watched each glistening sun-ray pluck the strings. I remember being astonished by its dexterity, and melodic perfection. Upon awakening, I tried to duplicate the notes I had heard, and saw, on my guitar—If only I could remember them note for note.— From what little I was able to remember, and attempt to simulate on the fret-board, the notes seemed impossible to play in one key. Almost as if each note came from one of the 24 individual keys of the musical spectrum. It totally seemed to of been an impossible dream— But, what if all dreams came true?  I thought, and then it was gone…Fireworks1[1]

I was standing on a sea-shore, in some far away place beyond the familiar sea, where nothing looked real, or resonated with me. There were neon colors, and bird-like creatures. Lifelike, but surreal. I perceived them with all 5 senses at once. I felt, tasted, heard, smelled, and saw them — from one sense of awareness — at once. I wanted to talk to them, so I tried to open my mouth, instead my eyes opened. And I awakened. It was over…                                                         What if all dreams came true?728px-Cairina_moschata_head_norway-1[1]
I heard the phone ring as I was walking in through a large glass door leading to a hallway between two rows of desks occupied by dogs with huge human like grins, when suddenly one of them leaped out at me and said…     “You Won The Lottery”  —  But, then, of course, I woke up. doggrinningsoapoprah11[1]
I dreamed I was in a terrible hurricane, worse than any of the ones I’ve experienced first hand on the Carolina coast. It was terrifying. Water started moving in beneath my feet, and gradually rose to the level of my chin. Suddenly, a tidal wave came crashing over me, the town, and everyone, and everything, as far as I could see. And, then I woke up — But, what if every dream really did come true? Or. What if some really are warnings? What if we knew that every dream would come true? What If every dream did come true?buildingrestorationsnobridge2[1]

 

 

 

 

Graphic Images by TylaMac

Tidal Wave Image by devourerofsouls 

Grinning Dog ?

 

 

“Voices From the Marsh ” 2015 #2

The spine-tingling cry pierced a hole in her sanity, and she knew she wouldn’t survive the night. “What could make such a bloodcurdling sound, with such defining pitch, and sonancy?” She asked herself.

From the ancient, hollowed oak tree, she had ducked in to hide, Samantha Hellman, dared not move a muscle. Lying there on the cold, damp, ground inside the tree’s opening, Samantha, a skilled scuba diver, and long distance swimmer, nearly lost consciousness before letting her lungs purge her near – hyperventilation causing breath.

The night was still, with a harvest moon hovering eerily over-head. Not only could Samantha hear every beat her heart pumped, but, was sure anything that could make the kind of sounds she was hearing, most likely heard it beating as well. “Can probably even hear my eye lids close” she thought, trying her best not to blink.

“In my 27 years on this earth,” Samantha silently reasoned, “I’ve never heard anything like whatever that is out there tonight—not just the screeching, I remember that sound well, but there’s something else out there.” 

Starting as a low moaning, monotonous hum, and instantly rising to a nerve jerking shriek, the creature seemed to have more than one voice deep inside. “Maybe it’s possessed, or filled with more than one spirit,” she thought, as the roar seemed to take on two uniquely resonant locations of origin.

The moan turned shrill. As sharp, and cutting as a scythe. And yet, somehow, simultaneously, she heard a strange comforting low tone resonating as if from somewhere on another side of the universe. “Only it’s much closer”, she thought.  Pulsating the very ground she was lying on. But unlike the bloodthirsty, bone chilling screams, —the deeper roar emitted comfort, and solace.  like a bell ringing to guide her out of a dark foggy night. Deafening, shattering, excruciatingly ominous—and—yet—in perfect harmony. Culminating somewhere in the middle. Deep, vibrato, bellowing beneath the shrillness of an atrocious scream. It sounded like a war of love between two different creatures, howling, cooing, screeching, in agony. “Blissful Agony?” she thought.

Samantha felt—it must all be coming from one voice—one entity… Some entity, or—some—thing? “I’ve heard it before—I think, I must have, but where,— and when?”

Listening intently, again holding her breath, as the early morning  sun stabbed a blinding beam in through the opening of the tree she’d spent the night fearing for her life in, Samantha felt more at peace. It wasn’t just because the night had ended and turned to-day, she thought. “There’s something else.” Something she couldn’t explain.

“The perfect conflict”  Samantha said, almost aloud, beginning to feel she could no longer keep quiet. It was as if something was growing inside of her emotionally… Something screaming to get out. Something that made her feel safe.

“A melodic Arpeggio!” she almost sang, as the ground beneath her began to tremble and shake. She’d barely noticed the trimmers till the shrieks and moans took on accompaniment of thunderous footsteps of Behemoth proportions.

Now. She couldn’t contain herself, even as the sound of the steps reverberated through the tree that was her only protection. Though sounding as if some gigantic monster was stomping just outside her oak tree fortress, Samantha was completely oblivious. Comfortably numb—totally—serene…

But, not quiet.

“A cacophonous crescendo of beauty and noise!” She shouted.

At that precise moment, Samantha realized she’d been wrong to think the sounds she’d heard the creature making earlier were the worst sounds she could ever imagine…

At that precise moment Samantha undeniably heard the worst sound her 27-year-old memory would readily divulge.

At that precise moment she knew fear like she had never known before. From the sound.

The deafening sound.

of silence.

Suddenly something ran by the opening of the tree. It ran so fast Samantha couldn’t even begin to recognize what it was. But she heard its shrill scream, and snarling growl, and knew deep down that whatever it was, it wasn’t good. And then there were more of them, and more…and suddenly one grabbed for her inside the crevice, and the ground shook even more.

But, just as the soothing roar bellowed an almost deafening decibel, Samantha felt the ground move beneath her. It made her feel dizzy. She began to feel the wind rushing in, and suddenly realized that the refuge she’d mistaken for a hollowed out tree — was suddenly taking flight.

 

“EXTRA EXTRA READ ALL ABOUT IT!” a boy shouted.

A group of towns people had gathered on the street in front of the old newspaper office, back on main street, listening as one man read the latest paper hot off the press.

“A local woman went missing last evening around 8 o’clock, according to witnesses. “I saw her trailing off into the woods off main street, said one witness, after hearing strange noises from the saw mill road area.” The witness, who chooses to remain anonymous at this time, said that he also, and several other citizens heard the noises, and could only describe the sound as: “Nothing I’ve ever heard before. It was a shrill scream, and a very loud roaring sound. Quite frightening it was.” The witness said. The young lady, a Miss Samantha J. Hellman had made earlier claims of being lured into the woods following strange noises. In her earlier reports, according to her friends and family, Miss Hellman, said she came face to face with some atrociously monstrous looking creatures that made advances to try to capture her. According to the reports, Miss Hellman, managed to escape the creatures by running away, just as she heard another deeper, rumbling kind of sound, from where she could not say. Miss Hellman claimed that as she ran away, she turned briefly only to see the creatures running away from her direction, while staring in apparent shock, and awe, at something up in the sky. When asked who, or what she thought the creatures she had seen might have been, Miss Hellman promptly answered: “They were the Marsh People.”

The Marsh people, according to local legend, were the ancient predecessors of the Island. A band of giants. And as legend has it, accursed for killing all the dragons on the island hundreds of years before. Many of the town folk believed they had passed that curse on to the new settlers of the island, and that they too were accursed. Through the years dozens of people had gone missing from the island after being led into the woods following strange sounds. The few who had survived with any soundness of mind at all, told the same terrifying, death-defying tale of being attacked—by a group of atrocious giant beings, called—The Marsh People.

LOOK! The newspaper boy shouted, pointing up into the sky. As everyone’s attention veered, squinting into the air trying to shade off the glare of the morning sun, with their newspapers, hats, and hands, a scene of uproar, and confusion ensued. Women screamed, men shouted,  cries of “What is that thing?” were heard from among the entire Main street vicinity, and mayhem.

People ran under awnings, and into doorways of all the shops lining the street seeking cover. The paper boy shouted. “It’s  a  Dragon!” just as the creature came swooping down, landing in the middle of the street, and politely stretching out one wing to reveal Samantha Hellman, sitting pretty, perched on the left forearm safely behind one of the dragons talons, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

Samantha Calmly stepped off the Dragon’s leg, as everyone stared in amazement, and slowly poked their heads out from their hiding places to try to see what was going to happen next.

“It’s okay everyone!,” Samantha beamed, “The dragon has slain the Marsh people.”

Screaming Eagle Dream Catcher

Wut? ─ I made a Fisherman’s “Dream” catcher with a mermaid in the net… it sold…

Screaming Eagle is surely more Native than that… right? Even if it is a 2005 Harley-Davidson “Screaming Eagle” Fat-Boy…

“Ride On “

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Wooden Cross Dream Catcher

Some say putting the Cross inside a dream catcher is sacrilege.  I  disagree. There are probably as many legends of which tribal people made the first dream catcher as there are stories of how, and why, they came about. Odds-are, there are probably as many stories throughout Native America of where the idea came from as there are styles of dream catchers.

I enjoy hearing the stories,─ love seeing, ─and making the art. But I seriously doubt even the first person to weave a dream catcher truly believed they would trap bad dreams in the web while allowing only good dreams through the hoop to trickle down the feathers into their sleeping thoughts at night.

And regardless of whether the night air is  filled with flying spirits we know as dreams, or, whether a talking spider gave the secret of dream-weaving to a sweet little old grandma centuries past or not; To me─they are beautiful works of art.

Personally.  I figure someone was sitting by a warm fire, weaving themselves, or their husband, a nice set of  snowshoes for the next days hunt, when one of their children’s blood curdling scream, brought on by a nightmare, pierced the peaceful night ambiance.

They probably ran to the child’s side, snowshoe project in hand, laid it down, and after holding, and consoling the child long enough to calm their senses, picked the hoop back up, began weaving a soothing bed-time story, and realized they were no longer making a shoe… but, a “Dream Catcher

Nighty-night Y’all ─  sleep well now.

Brendas Dream Catcher #2 009Brendas Dream Catcher #2 011Brendas Dream Catcher #2 012Brendas Dream Catcher #2 010Brendas Dream Catcher #2 008

5″ Brass Ring wrapped in dark brown nabbed suede leather, with foiled translucent bead, large turquoise bead, and acryli-turquoise shell bead set in a hand-made wooden cross. Overall length from top of ring to tip of feathers is 12.”

( Coming Soon) 19th century E. Ingraham Clock ( Time Sender Time Machine) steampunk art project

Acting Residual Soul

Terrified, he ran to cross the road, leaving behind foreboding abode.

Never looked back from then till now, the house in the shadow of creak and howl.

Only the memory could haunt him still, he left the spirit behind until,crossing the street met evil did he, no will to turn, nowhere to flee.

Quickly descending  rathskeller beneath, the man at the door his portion bequeathed.

Je ne sais quoi notably exuded , So let the doorman bear what evil intruded.

Suddenly shaken aft slamming door, paralyzed in fear of appalling  horror, as the doorman transfigured to lusus naturae.

What abhorrence crept in that cold misty night? Trapping him in  his own selfish plight?

Nothing is known from that moment till now, of the man from the house of creak and  howl.

Some say he was eaten, or buried alive.Others say he’s the          statue,self  petrified, but of certainty his spirit remains… evil it was indeed.                                                                                                                                

willis-©-2012

images@flickr

Stehouwer & Recio

Odonbd                                                                                                                                            

Oh Where Is Mistress Muse ?

             Mistress Muse is a Sassy Lass

                    Blows in on the Wind leaves Twice as fast

              Best Be Plumed Quill in Hand

                    An  Erect Easel, with Keyboard  Manned

                  Else, Her Aura flutters Away.  

                 Self Phenomed Foolish Pride?

                   We Can’t be Distracted, or Preoccupied

                Mistress  Muse Shares  Nada.

                    Paint it, Write it, or Devil Wears Prada

                  Other Valentine’s Her Prowl.

                                                               Like Moonbeams Twinkling

                   Through Tinted Glass, Mistress Rests

                    Non – Subservience Passed

                   Those Recognizing Gifts  Put to Use

                     Capture the Moment Not  A

                         Second To Lose , But,   

                        Oh, Where Is Mistress Muse?

   

             

Hotel Canuuk-I-warnedya,Eh? “For The Hook”

As Our Story Begins, we find our mild mannered Captain Bell-Hook assisting   hotel guest as they arrive at the front desk. He politely spiels to the arrivals, a congenial run down of the hotels lay-out, dinner menus, and basic orientation.

As most any day at hotel Canuukiwarned-ya, while there are  a “Few”cheerful paying customers at the desk, the usual heel-hounds  scurry about, sniffing out ways to stiff the hired help, thereby saving themselves a few dollars out of pocket change. Apparently, when some folks decide to stay in a ritzy, better than average hotel spending more on a room for a night than last months rent, they think everything else should be included in the bill.

So, as Captain Bell-Hook seemingly appears preoccupied assisting other guest, little “Chip-Off-The-Old-Skin-Flint” pulls the “make eye contact with mommie dearest” diversion, as dad makes off with the luggage cart  in attempt to save himself $3.00 bucks.

This being the oldest trick in the Gratuity Gangster Game, ole dad chuckles, thinking lil flint slips the bags unnoticed right under Captain Bell-Hook, and the entire hotel staff’s noses.

As the morning progress’s,

the same old shell-games pass numerously, erroneously believed shielded just beneath the staff’s line of vision daily, and all goes on as planned. Just another beautiful morning for the Bellmen, whom we all know would rather be at work, waiting on visiting yuppy, tight wadded transients and their families, than to be at home serving their own.

Around 10:30 A.M. while the hotel lobby thinned out a bit from the hustling crowd, the phone buzzes for service from a room on the ground floor.    Bzzzzz!!!

“Front desk, Hotel Canuukiwarned-ya, Hook speaking, how may I help you”?

A squeaky elderly female voice on the other end squelches out the words: “Young man, I need you to come and repair my microwave oven”. “Okay ma’am; What seems to be the trouble with it”“Well”.   She retorts, “If I knew that I wouldn’t need you to come and fix it”. “Now would I”?  “Ah, no ma’am, I suppose you wouldn’t”. ”I’ll be right there ma’am”.

Just as Captain Bell-Hook hangs up the phone, this little aberration appears in front of the desk, as the sound of giggles, and occasional squeak of a luggage dolly is heard down the left corridor. “Are you gentlemen doing any hiring today”? Little miss bell-booby asked. Bell-Hook, knowing this was just an apparition conjured up via the evil-spirit, ”Red-Herrinnymphus”  by another team of gratuity gluttons, left the desk manager to deal with it, and headed down the right corridor toward the old lady with the microwave issue, purposely choosing not to look left, not wanting to see the inevitable escaping caddy-cart.

As the lady shut the door after inviting Bell-Hook in to take a look at her microwave, the Hook turns and informs the lady; “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but, this is not a kitchenette room, and I will have to take your microwave back to the front desk with me”.  After years of pursuing his career as a professional service person, Bell-Hook thought he had heard every slandering stream of belligerent, belittlement’s known to man…

But, he was wrong.

As he made off down the hall with granny fiery-dart’s flash cooker, he turned to let her know she could pick it up at the desk upon checkout. Unfortunately, he turned just in time to see her fling her evil toaster towards his head with the force of a forward motioned wrecking ball, and never got the words out of his mouth before being eaten alive.

The toaster rolled down the hall end over end at  breakneck speed, before finally coming to rest at the lobby entrance, and spit the Bell-Hook out all warm and toasty.

I said the toaster spit him out all warm and toasty..

I said the toaster spit him out…

well, okay,.. maybe it didn’t spit him out after all,  which means of course, the story now must take a turn in the …

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Oh, there he is;

As Captain Bell-Hook’s assistant, “Big Bell-O-Mac”, saw what was taking place he quickly grabbed the phone to call police for obvious needed assistance, as by now little old microwave lady’s granddaughter had arrived at the scene, quite livid at Bell-Hook for taking grannies microwave. Big Bell-O-Mac had barely gotten the word; “Hello” into the phone, when the granddaughter gouged a 10 inch syringe into his leg, pumping in 800 units of green pectin, instantly turning him into a huge pile of mindless jello.

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Needless to say, this was about as much as Bell-Hook could take. Still steaming from the toaster oven, he thought better of popping-off and blowing his top all over the place. Instead, as if delivered by some unseen force, a plan to calm everyone down, and get things back on an even keel instantly came to his mind. He remembers thinking to himself; ” I  couldn’t have come up with a better plan if it were written specifically to me on the back of a Crunch Berry box”. While scooping up the plate of lime-jello, that was once his friend, and co-worker, and placing it gently into the mini-fridge behind the front desk, he tells the granddaughter of the oven smuggler she could take the microwave back up to her room.

Once the young lady left, he immediately began tracking the room numbers of all the tip- stiffing, cart stealing, appliance poaching, skin flint guest that had crossed his path since he arrived earlier that morning. He then called them all one by one, informing them it was now 11:45, and seeing as they had been such affable, gracious paying customers, the hotel was treating them to a special “Free-Lunch”  in the restaurant on the second floor.

Never being ones to miss out on a free-lunch, everyone was in the lobby, and ready to go upstairs before the clock chimed high-noon. Exuberantly giddy, in expectation of a free meal, Captain Bell-Hook had little trouble getting them all to pack into the same elevator, ready to ship off in minutes.

“Going Up”?

No sooner than the doors of the elevator closed, Hook was in and out of the phone booth, faster than a silver bullet can kill a vampire, completely transformed from the lowly, mild- mannered Bellman, everyone knew and loved, into  “Captain, You’ve Been Warned,”!!! slammed the joy stick that released the trap-door- floor of the elevator open, sending all aboard plummeting rapidly into the abyss.  A place that no one knows, not I,  not the Hook, not “Captain You’ve Been Warned”, or even the hotel establishment…No one knows where…this place is not even…

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...Okay, it's somewhere in Siberia...…Okay, it’s …somewhere in Siberia…

All seemed to be going well the rest of the afternoon, till suddenly, both front glass doors of the hotel were blown in through the lobby at the speed of light. The sudden explosive sound of shattering glass sent patrons fraying across one another, sprawling to the floor, just in time to keep from being ripped, tattered, and torn by millions of lightning speed shards of sparkling glass. To the Hook, who was now peering out from his crouched position, behind the front desk, it looked like some sort of diamonds storm- shot out from a massive cannon.  What was to come through the door next, however,was even more bone chillingly frightening to the Hook, as it was none other than Arch- Nemesis of Captain You’ve Been Warned, herself,              “Paula Deen”!!!

Hook was shaken even more upon learning from the blood curdling question the low country cook screeched, that the little old microwave lady was apparently Paula Deans granny too…

“Where’s my little microwave cooking granny y’aaaall…wut heff  y’all done withh har”? 

Looking over at the Hook, and realizing he was actually Captain “You’ve Been Warned” in a Bell Hop uniform, she screamed; “Why you yellow belly grandma hatein, non-donut eatin scandrawl you, when I git my hands own y’aaall I’m a – gonna sop you up with some maple sir-rip, and eat you alive mister”!!!

By now the news of Paula Deen’s arrival, and intentions to devour the Hook, had reached Mrs. Hook, otherwise known as “Vampire Lover”,  who spread her wings and flew in like an F-22, Stealth Raptor, in hopes to help her husband. She knew even with the assisted super powers of  “Captain You’ve Been Warned” the Hook was no match for the Krispe-Kreme-Burger-Queen by himself.

Swooping in, The Vampire Lover took hold of the Apple – butter, lard Queen , latching onto her neck, and with just one bite collapsed to the floor, an apparent victim of  instant diabetic comma.

The Hook went completely ballistic…  Reaching behind him with both arms, and swinging back around in one fluid motion, letting go of the object he’d grabbed with such a force it took out two stress bearing columns from beneath the ceiling before slamming into Deen, the Low Country Brawler Queen. Suddenly there was a massive explosion, as the entire ground floor of the hotel was coated and filled from ceiling to floor with oozing green slime. In through the holes where the two glass doors once stood, the wind blew fiercely, forming an air pocket. The green slime began to harden, as  squishy, gurgley, popping sounds came from smaller bubbles lining its walls as they burst. Suddenly, one of the smaller bubbles popped sending something flying across the hotel and slamming into the far wall which had already hardened its green slime covering into something the consistency of Super-Ball rubber. The thing shot from the bubble bounced at a high rate of speed from wall to wall, back and forth across the entire span of the hotel lobby at least 20 times like a pin- ball in a rubber room. Suddenly, sticking straight out like an arrow shot from Robin Hoods bow, it came to a vibrating stop, when it stuck into the left

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butt cheek of Paula Deen, who in turn fell across the Vampire lover with such a crushing impact that all the air came rushing out of the Vampire Lover, kick starting her breathing again.

As the slime hardened into a buoyant, bouncy, rubbery, cocoon, kids, and adults alike poured into the lobby from all directions, jumping up and down, whooping and laughing, and bouncing around like they were in some sort of a kids inflatable moon-walk castle or something.

Just then, as the Hook cleansed the remaining slime off the thing shot out of the bubble, enough to realize it was his buddy, and co-worker, Big Bell-O-Mac, Paula Deen turned and said;

“Hey, Wut wus that thang you stuck in my laft butt cheek”?

A little reluctant, Big Bell-O-Mac, shrugged, and said…“Erm, it was this 10 inch syringe that crazy niece of yours stuck me with earlier”.

“Hum”.    Deen said.  “I don’t thank I’ve felt this good in three yee-ahs, Ya’ll”.

By now the place had filled with emergency crews, paramedics, firemen, policemen, and even a doctor or two.

“Mrs. Deen, I was a guest on your show a while back”. “Here, let me have a look at you, make sure you’re okay”.  A thin, pale looking lady said.

“Oh, I’m fine Dr. Wilma “.  Deen Said. “Other than the diabeatus thang, I thank I feel better than I have in yee-ahs”. “And by the way, fancy a meetin you here.”

“Yes”. The young lady doctor said. “It is quite the coincidence”. ” Now, let me drawl a little blood from you, and see what effect that stuff  in the syringe may have had “.

“Hmm, Mrs. Deen”. The doctor said after examining the blood on a few strips of Litmus paper, and running it through a hand held meter a few times. “I don’t see any sign of your diabetes, I think you’ve been completely healed”.

“Hehehehe!!! Did Ya’ll hear thaet”? Dean exclaimed. “I’m heaaaald”!!!

“Ya’ll need to bottle that stuff up and sell it as a meeracull quewer or something, ya’ll, in fact…I’m takin a buh-ckit of it home with me and bake me some green cakes, heheheee.”

So, along that time the Hook looks up at the clock on the wall and says to Mrs. Hook. ” Well, babe…it’s quitting time. Time for the shift change. Let’s go home”.

As they strolled arm in arm toward what used to be the front door of the hotel, Hook stops in his tracks upon hearing the chime of the elevator just as it comes to a stop in the lobby. The doors open, and inside stood eight, familiar looking, dirty, half frozen, faces gazing furiously back at him. “What now”? Asked the Vampire Lover. Hook looked at his wife through eyes half glazed over from fright and surprise, and half squinted from holding back the urge of bursting out laughing and says:                                                               

                                        ….>>>”RUN”!!!>>>

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                                   Now back to my favorite pass-time: