Dreams are peculiar, so real one moment and the next, a wisp of imagination floating across the stars. Are they secrets that the soul whispers to the unconsciousness? Perhaps a yearning that is unattainable. Or is meaning added to the vision in retrospect? Then, they can be molded by the needs of the dreamer. These questions may not have a correct answer but the mystery inside a dream begs to be inspected. And only after scrutiny can it be determined if they hold something of value.
The images that plague Owena at night are becoming so strong she is having trouble separating the dream from reality for several moments after she has been roused from slumber. In the past, she rarely remembered a dream but recently these nocturnal dramas linger. The hours she spent in them feel like an entire lifetime. The themes are as diverse as the subjects in the town library. The one consistent in all the dreams… is the moon.
The drams with music are the most beautiful. The strings of a harp often are featured in such dreams and each melody tells a story. It is sometimes her Pa playing the harp. At other times a small blonde child. And often it is just in the wind and she is surrounded by her friends laughing faces. Her childhood friends Annii and Heulyn dance in the moonlight with her and it seems a lifetime passes until she wakes up.
The dreams with the masked man are the most confusing. She is climbing a dark mountain, lit only by the moonlight and she can see him before her. Yet, no matter how fast she runs he is always out of reach. He watches her with dark eyes and beckons her forward. She knows she has to reach him. Nothing else.
The dreams of passion are fun! In the dawn's moon, she lets herself indulge in the intimate cravings she tries to veil during the waking hours. Her growing friendship with the alluring Baldvin and Loakee intensified such dreams. Their banter and jokes creep into her mind like a warm wind under a door.
And then there are the not so fun dreams, the ones that feature wailing and screaming. She isn't sure what to do with such dreams. There was no traumatic event in her life that would fuel such horrors. At least that she can recall. But she often sits up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, feeling that something very wrong is going to happen. On these nights she just gets out of bed and starts cooking right away, knowing that trying to sleep again will be useless.
