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Description

  Seballa, the dreamers’ realm. Have you heard of it? Don’t be ashamed if you haven’t. Most are ignorant of the name but know of the place all the same. You visit it every night, you know. Every time your eyes grow heavy, and you nod slowly to the warmth of a tended fire. In this place, your mind wanders free, unshackled by the burden of reality. Sometimes you recall your stay like a distant memory teetering at the tip of your tongue. Sometimes you don’t.

    Children almost always remember their dreams; we dance with them in the gardens and frolic in the fields as young James sneezes in the wheat and Maryella plucks the petals of a red iris whispering, “He loves me. He loves me not.”

    “I could fly, Maryella!” The young boy shouted as the girl jumped tossing the barren iris into the mud. “I was a bird last night!”

    For James, that’s how it all started. A dream about soaring high above the land to taste the clouds and flip in the wind. We can feel the icy cold air on his brow like resting your cheek in the snow or the scent of a brewing storm like moist earth and morning dew.

    Seballa guided James’s fate and, in a way, had a hand in Maryella’s too. She would adopt his dream as her own and stand by him and his inventions. Indeed, the length of his achievements would have fallen short the hem of her skirt if not for Maryella’s patience and eye for detail. After all, what is a bird with a broken wing?

    Is it any surprise that the two would come together in marriage after his twentieth birthday? She was so happy; look at how she blushes scarlet like the sun at dawn or how she fidgets with her fingers biting the tip of her nails.

    “All I ever wanted was to fly with you.” She whispers in his ear as they take their final vows.

    Four years passed and the two worked hard to realize their dream even setting aside their desire to raise a family. You see, the crystal palace only convenes once every ten years and they had little time to complete their grand design.

    The first airplane was forty feet wide and twenty one feet long, and was made from scarlet ash wood. The very same tree where they shared their first kiss. Look at the sleek design and the sanded texture. It was smoother than glass and the wood waved like the rivers current. We can still count the rings of the elder tree’s growth, it was 102.

    Look at the wings now, covered in sails like the mast of a great ship. Maryella wove them from cotton with deep stitch that wouldn’t break in the wind. It was itchy and uncomfortable, but their aircraft wore it well, ready for its initial test flight.

    The crystal palace is so named after the grand glass structure that houses the greatest minds in all the lands. They gather from far and wide when the doors are opened to share their ideas and publish lengthy manuscripts.

    Look to your right, you’ll see Dr. Ludvig scratching his gray beard who captures lighting in a clear tube. Look at the fluorescent blue light that snaps at the glass and spreads its fingers like the roots of a tree. “When my work is done, I will bring light without fire!” He exclaims.

    “But it looks much to dangerous.” The onlookers say.

    Look to your left, you’ll see Dr. Cromwell in his pale coat and spidery fingers who uses a glass lens to see things from far away. Look at the brass tube that sparkles like fine steel and the lens thicker than a mortered brick. “When my work is done, I will be able to see things from far way as if they were standing right in front of me. We will be able to see what the stars truly look like!” He exclaims.

    “But what use have we to see such things up close?” The onlookers say.

    There are many strange and wondrous sights in the crystal palace, but there is a commotion now and people rush to join the growing crowds outside. Push past the young children who hop to look over their elders and slip past the man who sketches with charcoal and curses beneath his breadth, you’ll see a familiar airship and its scarlet hue.

    They call it the dreamcatcher, James and Maryella had the name carved along the tail of their aircraft beneath the crude initials they had once etched upon the bark.

    “Imagine,” Maryella said, “Imagine being able to fly like a bird and touch the clouds.” She turns the propeller hard and the crude engine kicks to life belching smoke and hissing like an angry cat.

    “Ooh, very good let’s see.” The onlookers say.

    James became the first pilot as witnessed by Maryella and crowds of a hundred strong, their mouths open so wide they could catch and hold rainwater. He skipped through the air like a bird, tracing his fingers just short of the clouds above. There was much work to do yet, a shame he wouldn’t get the chance.

    The dreamcatcher had two successful flights but only one successful landing. Everything worked without a hitch the night before the crystal palace, but on the second flight a chipped nail and a broken screw caused the landing wheel to break like a stick under pressure. The dreamcatcher flipped over at high speed crashing into the crowd and flinging James nine yards where he broke his neck on a pile of loose rubble.

    Can you hear the lost child crying in the dark? Her voice is like the call of a lonely whale in the ocean deep or the weak cooing of a goose nudging at its long dead partner. Maryella’s tears filled the river at sable island and the gorge wasn’t deep enough to contain them.

    “All I ever wanted was to fly with you.”

    Years would pass but the wound never fully healed, and Maryella, the once bright eye’d girl who skipped through fields of wheat with a fluttering heart, shut herself away from the world.

    It was in this time of dark despair that she found comfort in her dreams.

    One night, a year after her hearts passing, she dreamt of being a bird and flying through the air in Seballa. It was a dream her husband had told her of time and time again; a dream that inspired him and sealed his fate.

    She loved the feel of the wind between her feathers and the smell of the summers rain heavy in the air. In this place, she wasn’t alone for a white crane flew with her.

    A magnificent bird with feathers like fresh snowfall and a bright red tailfeather streaking ahead and winding in the wind.

    “James!” She cried out waking from sleep fresh tears staining her gown.

    This wouldn’t be the last time she would have this dream, for the next night it came to her once more.

    This time she flew through the air in a cold winters night the bitter wind like icy water upon your back. Yet, Maryella never felt the cold but was shrouded in warmth as she flew beneath the wings of that magnificent crane.

    Together they flew from world to world unburdened by the hardships of reality. In Seballa, the lands of many dreamers are suspended in the woven metal links of a deity’s slumbering heart. She chanced a glance upon its thousand hands that plucked the strings to a hidden tune. The dreamers world struggled in the orb weavers trap, but this spider will never wake.

    In time, Maryella would find more comfort in this place than she did on earth. Seballa was her home, and every night she flew again with James to distant lands. How she longed to call out to him, but everytime she spoke the world crumbled apart and she woke once more.

    Another year past, another turn of the page, poor Maryella is a mess now. She sleeps in a barn with no home of her own and only rags to cover herself. Sadly, the poor woman doesn’t care.

In this moment, a foreigner comes upon her not by chance. A middle aged man adorned with foreign garments inlaid with golden silk.

    “I’ve found you.” He said to her offering his hand.

    “Who are you?”

    “What does it matter? I am dreamer like you.” He smiled helping her up. “My lord has called for you.”

    “Called for me?”

    “Indeed, the slumbering one told me I must wake in your place.”

    Listen close, and you will hear the man tell of a place in the east where a great tree grows called the dreamwood. It is there that men and women pledge themselves to the one who dreams in deep sleep. It is there that Maryella gives up her attachments to the real world.

    “If I go to this place, will I be able to stay there for good?” She asked, tears streaming from her eyes.

    “Yes, Seballa will welcome you Maryella. However, I must warn you. In your bed, you are merely given a visitors pass, but, under the dreamwood you’re granted permanent residence. You may never leave again save for our lords wish.” He said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

    “I will go, please. I must see him again.”

    “A ship is waiting for you by the docks. They will guide you there, the price has already been paid.” With that, he left her behind and she never saw him again.

    True to the man's word, a ship called the arbor gold waited for her by the docks of Sable Island. They took her aboard and she sailed far to the east. During her voyage, the winds whispered of the crystal palace and the doors opening once again to a thunderous applause. Maxwell and his cousin Marvin had completed the first successful flight and landing, perfecting James and Maryella’s original design. Their names were never mentioned, but we remember.

    Many months later, Maryella stood before the dreamwood. A great thunderous oak that pierced the canopy with roots that spread for miles in every direction. The earth rippled to make room for each appendage and a thousand dreamers lay asleep beneath its bows.

    Two other pilgrims carved their names into the bark which was scarred with a million letters. They left their clothes by the base of the tree and took their places next to the others.

    Maryella took a dull blade and carved the word dreamcacher as well as her and her husbands initials into the wood.

    Folding her clothes neatly by the base of dreamwood, she found a clear spot next to an old root to rest her head. Looking up at the sky, she envisioned the white crane as tears fell like morning rain and the roots began to wind around her. A single shoot pierced her navel and she cried out unable to move as a numbing feeling spread from her fingers to her toes.

    A sudden warmth radiated from within and she fell into a deep sleep.

    Maryella would wake in a field of wheat as a young girl once more plucking the petals of red iris. She saw a flock of birds high above her as well as the horizon of a thousand worlds strung together and plucked like the strings of a violin.

    “James!” She called out when she caught a glimpse of a red tailfeather flying far away.

    Maryella couldn’t yet join them for Seballa was her reality now and the rules she had once obeyed on earth she would now obey here.

    However, she wasn’t disheartened for in this place she could start a new, and while she couldn’t shape herself, she could shape the world around her.

    From the land of wheat and stout wood she rebuilt the dreamcatcher with blue oak, a pheonixes feather, and the tanned skins of dreamborn wyvern. The engine purrs for days on a single tear drop and coasts to the rhythm of a slumbering gods instrument. Within that cockpit, Maryella travels a thousand worlds searching for the scarlet crane that yet alludes her.

    The next time you dream, come rest your head upon the dreamcatchers satin wings and listen to winds of Seballa. Do you hear the whispers in the air? What do they say?

    “All I ever wanted was to fly with you.”

Listen close, child. Listen to the deacons as we tell the story of the Cosmic Arc www.deviantart.com/fafnir313/a…

Description

  Seballa, the dreamers’ realm. Have you heard of it? Don’t be ashamed if you haven’t. Most are ignorant of the name but know of the place all the same. You visit it every night, you know. Every time your eyes grow heavy, and you nod slowly to the warmth of a tended fire. In this place, your mind wanders free, unshackled by the burden of reality. Sometimes you recall your stay like a distant memory teetering at the tip of your tongue. Sometimes you don’t.

    Children almost always remember their dreams; we dance with them in the gardens and frolic in the fields as young James sneezes in the wheat and Maryella plucks the petals of a red iris whispering, “He loves me. He loves me not.”

    “I could fly, Maryella!” The young boy shouted as the girl jumped tossing the barren iris into the mud. “I was a bird last night!”

    For James, that’s how it all started. A dream about soaring high above the land to taste the clouds and flip in the wind. We can feel the icy cold air on his brow like resting your cheek in the snow or the scent of a brewing storm like moist earth and morning dew.

    Seballa guided James’s fate and, in a way, had a hand in Maryella’s too. She would adopt his dream as her own and stand by him and his inventions. Indeed, the length of his achievements would have fallen short the hem of her skirt if not for Maryella’s patience and eye for detail. After all, what is a bird with a broken wing?

    Is it any surprise that the two would come together in marriage after his twentieth birthday? She was so happy; look at how she blushes scarlet like the sun at dawn or how she fidgets with her fingers biting the tip of her nails.

    “All I ever wanted was to fly with you.” She whispers in his ear as they take their final vows.

    Four years passed and the two worked hard to realize their dream even setting aside their desire to raise a family. You see, the crystal palace only convenes once every ten years and they had little time to complete their grand design.

    The first airplane was forty feet wide and twenty one feet long, and was made from scarlet ash wood. The very same tree where they shared their first kiss. Look at the sleek design and the sanded texture. It was smoother than glass and the wood waved like the rivers current. We can still count the rings of the elder tree’s growth, it was 102.

    Look at the wings now, covered in sails like the mast of a great ship. Maryella wove them from cotton with deep stitch that wouldn’t break in the wind. It was itchy and uncomfortable, but their aircraft wore it well, ready for its initial test flight.

    The crystal palace is so named after the grand glass structure that houses the greatest minds in all the lands. They gather from far and wide when the doors are opened to share their ideas and publish lengthy manuscripts.

    Look to your right, you’ll see Dr. Ludvig scratching his gray beard who captures lighting in a clear tube. Look at the fluorescent blue light that snaps at the glass and spreads its fingers like the roots of a tree. “When my work is done, I will bring light without fire!” He exclaims.

    “But it looks much to dangerous.” The onlookers say.

    Look to your left, you’ll see Dr. Cromwell in his pale coat and spidery fingers who uses a glass lens to see things from far away. Look at the brass tube that sparkles like fine steel and the lens thicker than a mortered brick. “When my work is done, I will be able to see things from far way as if they were standing right in front of me. We will be able to see what the stars truly look like!” He exclaims.

    “But what use have we to see such things up close?” The onlookers say.

    There are many strange and wondrous sights in the crystal palace, but there is a commotion now and people rush to join the growing crowds outside. Push past the young children who hop to look over their elders and slip past the man who sketches with charcoal and curses beneath his breadth, you’ll see a familiar airship and its scarlet hue.

    They call it the dreamcatcher, James and Maryella had the name carved along the tail of their aircraft beneath the crude initials they had once etched upon the bark.

    “Imagine,” Maryella said, “Imagine being able to fly like a bird and touch the clouds.” She turns the propeller hard and the crude engine kicks to life belching smoke and hissing like an angry cat.

    “Ooh, very good let’s see.” The onlookers say.

    James became the first pilot as witnessed by Maryella and crowds of a hundred strong, their mouths open so wide they could catch and hold rainwater. He skipped through the air like a bird, tracing his fingers just short of the clouds above. There was much work to do yet, a shame he wouldn’t get the chance.

    The dreamcatcher had two successful flights but only one successful landing. Everything worked without a hitch the night before the crystal palace, but on the second flight a chipped nail and a broken screw caused the landing wheel to break like a stick under pressure. The dreamcatcher flipped over at high speed crashing into the crowd and flinging James nine yards where he broke his neck on a pile of loose rubble.

    Can you hear the lost child crying in the dark? Her voice is like the call of a lonely whale in the ocean deep or the weak cooing of a goose nudging at its long dead partner. Maryella’s tears filled the river at sable island and the gorge wasn’t deep enough to contain them.

    “All I ever wanted was to fly with you.”

    Years would pass but the wound never fully healed, and Maryella, the once bright eye’d girl who skipped through fields of wheat with a fluttering heart, shut herself away from the world.

    It was in this time of dark despair that she found comfort in her dreams.

    One night, a year after her hearts passing, she dreamt of being a bird and flying through the air in Seballa. It was a dream her husband had told her of time and time again; a dream that inspired him and sealed his fate.

    She loved the feel of the wind between her feathers and the smell of the summers rain heavy in the air. In this place, she wasn’t alone for a white crane flew with her.

    A magnificent bird with feathers like fresh snowfall and a bright red tailfeather streaking ahead and winding in the wind.

    “James!” She cried out waking from sleep fresh tears staining her gown.

    This wouldn’t be the last time she would have this dream, for the next night it came to her once more.

    This time she flew through the air in a cold winters night the bitter wind like icy water upon your back. Yet, Maryella never felt the cold but was shrouded in warmth as she flew beneath the wings of that magnificent crane.

    Together they flew from world to world unburdened by the hardships of reality. In Seballa, the lands of many dreamers are suspended in the woven metal links of a deity’s slumbering heart. She chanced a glance upon its thousand hands that plucked the strings to a hidden tune. The dreamers world struggled in the orb weavers trap, but this spider will never wake.

    In time, Maryella would find more comfort in this place than she did on earth. Seballa was her home, and every night she flew again with James to distant lands. How she longed to call out to him, but everytime she spoke the world crumbled apart and she woke once more.

    Another year past, another turn of the page, poor Maryella is a mess now. She sleeps in a barn with no home of her own and only rags to cover herself. Sadly, the poor woman doesn’t care.

In this moment, a foreigner comes upon her not by chance. A middle aged man adorned with foreign garments inlaid with golden silk.

    “I’ve found you.” He said to her offering his hand.

    “Who are you?”

    “What does it matter? I am dreamer like you.” He smiled helping her up. “My lord has called for you.”

    “Called for me?”

    “Indeed, the slumbering one told me I must wake in your place.”

    Listen close, and you will hear the man tell of a place in the east where a great tree grows called the dreamwood. It is there that men and women pledge themselves to the one who dreams in deep sleep. It is there that Maryella gives up her attachments to the real world.

    “If I go to this place, will I be able to stay there for good?” She asked, tears streaming from her eyes.

    “Yes, Seballa will welcome you Maryella. However, I must warn you. In your bed, you are merely given a visitors pass, but, under the dreamwood you’re granted permanent residence. You may never leave again save for our lords wish.” He said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

    “I will go, please. I must see him again.”

    “A ship is waiting for you by the docks. They will guide you there, the price has already been paid.” With that, he left her behind and she never saw him again.

    True to the man's word, a ship called the arbor gold waited for her by the docks of Sable Island. They took her aboard and she sailed far to the east. During her voyage, the winds whispered of the crystal palace and the doors opening once again to a thunderous applause. Maxwell and his cousin Marvin had completed the first successful flight and landing, perfecting James and Maryella’s original design. Their names were never mentioned, but we remember.

    Many months later, Maryella stood before the dreamwood. A great thunderous oak that pierced the canopy with roots that spread for miles in every direction. The earth rippled to make room for each appendage and a thousand dreamers lay asleep beneath its bows.

    Two other pilgrims carved their names into the bark which was scarred with a million letters. They left their clothes by the base of the tree and took their places next to the others.

    Maryella took a dull blade and carved the word dreamcacher as well as her and her husbands initials into the wood.

    Folding her clothes neatly by the base of dreamwood, she found a clear spot next to an old root to rest her head. Looking up at the sky, she envisioned the white crane as tears fell like morning rain and the roots began to wind around her. A single shoot pierced her navel and she cried out unable to move as a numbing feeling spread from her fingers to her toes.

    A sudden warmth radiated from within and she fell into a deep sleep.

    Maryella would wake in a field of wheat as a young girl once more plucking the petals of red iris. She saw a flock of birds high above her as well as the horizon of a thousand worlds strung together and plucked like the strings of a violin.

    “James!” She called out when she caught a glimpse of a red tailfeather flying far away.

    Maryella couldn’t yet join them for Seballa was her reality now and the rules she had once obeyed on earth she would now obey here.

    However, she wasn’t disheartened for in this place she could start a new, and while she couldn’t shape herself, she could shape the world around her.

    From the land of wheat and stout wood she rebuilt the dreamcatcher with blue oak, a pheonixes feather, and the tanned skins of dreamborn wyvern. The engine purrs for days on a single tear drop and coasts to the rhythm of a slumbering gods instrument. Within that cockpit, Maryella travels a thousand worlds searching for the scarlet crane that yet alludes her.

    The next time you dream, come rest your head upon the dreamcatchers satin wings and listen to winds of Seballa. Do you hear the whispers in the air? What do they say?

    “All I ever wanted was to fly with you.”

Listen close, child. Listen to the deacons as we tell the story of the Cosmic Arc www.deviantart.com/fafnir313/a…