F
Fijoli
Guest
Original poster
Sometimes, when in the darkest hours of life, we wander back to a time of innocence. It is there, we attempt to see the world through the eyes of a child in our later years, and the benefits can come around to just about grand or Impossible. Reality is moldable, inconsistent, and above all, anything is possible. Reasoning is void in a child's mind, for what I like to believe, they hold the future in their hopes, aspirations, and dreams. Needless to say the duality of their imagination can tip the scale of good and evil both ways, I don't know how it was for any of you, but when I was a child, my nightmares frightened me far more than they do in my older age. With such a steadfast belief did I believe in what happened when I slept.
Dreams and nightmares can create hopes and fears, love and hate, even happiness and sadness. Nothing is impossible and it strikes me as ironic that , if even just in our sleep, dreams give us absolute control of the subconsious, while nightmares Paralyze us with fear. Terror can fill us, yet all we need is for the imagination to give us a little push into convincing ourselves of the power we hold in our sleep. Thus we think, therefore, we are.
Everything, we create in our own minds, and I have been thinking lately; What exactly happens to us between our younger years and now? Is it because we have been promised something so grand, that we ourselves, pale in comparison? Do we believe less of what we are told as children when we become older because of being made to believe that what we are is insignificant and small?....I don't know the answers, and I don't know why we, as human beings, sell ourselves so short of the wonderful, magnificent creatures of thought that we have come to be, and have always been.
It is my strongest belief that a child lives within every single one of us, and the more we internalize our own suffering, the more we bury this child deeper and deeper within us, however, they never disappear completely. Something of them remains within us even beyond our death, for none, like a child, dare to dream with such a fierceness, that even the remnants of what it once was leaves their mark burned into the very thing we consider to be our souls.
This is a story about two children, lost, in a world that they dare walk side by side through Tranquil dreams and the most grotesque nightmares. Where the struggle of giving and accepting the help from one another would save them from themselves and their very crippling fears. Traversing within eachother's very hopes and fears, all the deepest desires and abysmal sadness. The world they called Evigilantes Somniatis ((Latin for 'waking dream')) was a place that defied all logic and reasoning, noting was what it seemed, what was safe hid danger and what appeared dangerous was the saving grace if those with the imagination could fearlessly overcome the perspective. To survive here, one must possess the eye of the tiger, remain vigilant under any circumstance, and love with the entirety of their heart, all things, with an absolute unconditional compassion.
In the beginning of this epic and nostalgic tale, Spero ((Latin for Hope)), a young girl, no older then 6, stood at the edge of a massive mountain looking down into the lands of Evigilantes, she wondered obsessively how she had come to this place. The feeling that she only merely appeared into the thin air consumed her. Pinching her arm to feel the bones, poked at her ribs, and covered her eyes, encumbered from the height. Stepping away from the ledge her lightly colored eyes opened to, again, soak in the sight of where she was. Long dark brown strand of hair unfurled past her shoulder and passed her waist to her knee. Looking down to her toes and bare feet that just peeked out from beneath the long white night gown, she attempted to make sense of the impossibilities that hurled her into a state of absolution.
Suddenly, she heard the voice of a boy calling out,"Hey!"
Spero's little frame spun around, and her chin went up as her gaze looked for the voice, she called out to it,"Hello?! who's there?!"
Dreams and nightmares can create hopes and fears, love and hate, even happiness and sadness. Nothing is impossible and it strikes me as ironic that , if even just in our sleep, dreams give us absolute control of the subconsious, while nightmares Paralyze us with fear. Terror can fill us, yet all we need is for the imagination to give us a little push into convincing ourselves of the power we hold in our sleep. Thus we think, therefore, we are.
Everything, we create in our own minds, and I have been thinking lately; What exactly happens to us between our younger years and now? Is it because we have been promised something so grand, that we ourselves, pale in comparison? Do we believe less of what we are told as children when we become older because of being made to believe that what we are is insignificant and small?....I don't know the answers, and I don't know why we, as human beings, sell ourselves so short of the wonderful, magnificent creatures of thought that we have come to be, and have always been.
It is my strongest belief that a child lives within every single one of us, and the more we internalize our own suffering, the more we bury this child deeper and deeper within us, however, they never disappear completely. Something of them remains within us even beyond our death, for none, like a child, dare to dream with such a fierceness, that even the remnants of what it once was leaves their mark burned into the very thing we consider to be our souls.
This is a story about two children, lost, in a world that they dare walk side by side through Tranquil dreams and the most grotesque nightmares. Where the struggle of giving and accepting the help from one another would save them from themselves and their very crippling fears. Traversing within eachother's very hopes and fears, all the deepest desires and abysmal sadness. The world they called Evigilantes Somniatis ((Latin for 'waking dream')) was a place that defied all logic and reasoning, noting was what it seemed, what was safe hid danger and what appeared dangerous was the saving grace if those with the imagination could fearlessly overcome the perspective. To survive here, one must possess the eye of the tiger, remain vigilant under any circumstance, and love with the entirety of their heart, all things, with an absolute unconditional compassion.
In the beginning of this epic and nostalgic tale, Spero ((Latin for Hope)), a young girl, no older then 6, stood at the edge of a massive mountain looking down into the lands of Evigilantes, she wondered obsessively how she had come to this place. The feeling that she only merely appeared into the thin air consumed her. Pinching her arm to feel the bones, poked at her ribs, and covered her eyes, encumbered from the height. Stepping away from the ledge her lightly colored eyes opened to, again, soak in the sight of where she was. Long dark brown strand of hair unfurled past her shoulder and passed her waist to her knee. Looking down to her toes and bare feet that just peeked out from beneath the long white night gown, she attempted to make sense of the impossibilities that hurled her into a state of absolution.
Suddenly, she heard the voice of a boy calling out,"Hey!"
Spero's little frame spun around, and her chin went up as her gaze looked for the voice, she called out to it,"Hello?! who's there?!"
