27 years for me to reach this point, yet as mysteries continue to unravel (this is why trying to crack overlay codes by yourself is a bad idea), it’s been longer … across generations, across the universe of time.
Aliya shormo caelo, destharni tei dorne
Paesh kikor sela Stella meish.
Corocaro delle Luna!
Shemtai sinern toeshia Stella!
ENGLISH; June 19th, 2016
She who walks amongst feathers, travels through time and death
Lost to the Sun’s constant outcries.
The curse of the Moon!
May she be never restored to the ruler of the Sun!
+ Song of Praise for Ky’riel Kiara’shai’hara: Princess of the Moon, Indigo Phoenix, Overlord, Queen of the Void.
Dremael has fallen. The utopia, the Dream of God, overrun and destroyed, during the twilight hours of October 31st – November 1st, 2016. No, it was not an attack. It was a deliberate act, a mutual decision by Chloen’tyl: Rainbow Phoenix and Innae’tyl: Second Timekeeper.
Why do it? Why tear apart and allow the annihilation of the Midsummer’s Night Dream, the Centreworld, the Realm of Portals, Another Eden? The place betwixt and between, the sanctuary within liminality?
Liminality is a state of transition, a moment transfixed in frozen eternity for initiation. At some point, you have to emerge. You must surface out of twilight and greet the crimson dawn. For all the wonders of the liminal state, it too, is a cage.
For even infinity implies confinement.
Today I have a smile on my face. I feel real. I spent life feeling like the only solid person in an imaginary reality. Upon the destruction of my childhood’s hiding place, suddenly the tables turned. The world was real, and I was fading, the imaginary one pretending to live.
Dear Erica, you once called me Millennial Actress. “She of a thousand faces, yet no one has seen her true face. The biggest question of all, does she even know her face?” That was in 2000, at the end of our Ladenflight roleplays.
“Hear the words of the Song, descendant.”
Never will I fly again
This far I have come
Sinking into shadow
You must run
Far, far away
Where dreams still remain
+ Ky’riel to me; she refers to a passage in “The Shrine Keeper’s Song” from Forever’s Interval. Conversation recorded August 15th, 2016.
Today I squee and laugh, despite preparing for a jurisprudence exam on Monday and a mountain of work looming in my face. Today I can feel my heart beating, my pulse, the classic sign of life. I only have enough resources to survive, but right now, at this moment, I’m alive. I’m living. I’m here. Solid. Opaque. Real.
I haven’t “melted down” or lost my connection to the overlay. I didn’t have to sacrifice those for this world. I’m here. I’m in both. It’s not a matter of bilocation, I exist here and there simultaneously.
So I lost a lot along the way. Probably have more to lose, give or take. No, give and take.
As funny as it strikes me and makes me giggle like the Snow Sentinel, Lady Akatsuki Yukimoto. The willingness to sacrifice led to growth for myself in both overlay and reality …
Amatama – my childhood nickname for the First Timekeeper (and “Amatialle” isn’t his actual name) – is the harshest teacher I’ve ever come across. I thought Kyriel was cruel in her love, but goddamn, Big Bad Kitty takes the cake every single time. Particularly if the cake is being served by Theta’daison: Violet Phoenix, but I digress. I’ll crack jokes at him later.
Anyway. To celebrate the downfall of a cycle of sacrifice, the forced choice of duty over love (it took a long time for me to realize that duty and love aren’t mutually exclusive), and most importantly, the bittersweet taste of freedom, I’m going to share some tidbits of the course of my adventures in Dremael. Very few of my notes survived the 27 year journey, but Forever’s Interval contains hints and allusions to illusory truths symbolized by that Dream of God.
Twelve books for twelve hours of the clock’s face. My first conception of recording Dremael’s lengthy history was to write a book corresponding to each hour, beginning with Exploring Sky Plateau and ending with Frozen Eternity. I’d wondered way back then if a thirteenth book was needed, but I couldn’t see a way to break the chain that bound the procession of Phoenixes. I just assumed in my ignorance that after me, the cycle would begin anew.
My first “official” book was I Love My Sea Turtles, composed in grade one. I have no idea if the staff of Harold F. Loughlin Public School still have that ancient thing. I remember brief snippets: An adolescent named Jenna (she hated the name Jennifer) stealing as many baby leatherback turtles as her arms could carry from the shores of a Trinidad beach. This causes trouble, and since she was a minor in the eyes of the law, there wasn’t much she could do in terms of enlisting legal aid or environmentalism. Ensue poachers and hunters, backlash from society and popular culture. At some point, Jenna had to risk her sense of love and honour – a girl can’t hide growing turtles in a bathtub forever. I wrote that thing with markers and lined paper stapled together. Ten chapters for ten months of Jenna’s life with/about turtles. I actually can’t remember the ending. I assume I did something bittersweet like maybe her release of the turtles back into the sea, but this is me we’re talking.
Uh. Okay, back on topic.
… eh. I actually drew a blank. Suddenly I’m ready to move on to something else, though I had a whole slew of things to share about Dremael. Dang my tangential way of weaving concepts together. Oy.
Or, you know, I could blame Andrei for his sudden appearance on my Facebook and his cheery happy greeting despite the fact that we just lost our liminal home. “You’re more in your head than I am,” he said at least once before.
To be continued … maybe. :D