the voice from here and beyond
29 July 2008
Journeying Raindeer
I stand on a plain, looking out over a herd of buffalo in the distance, thick across the plain, but far away. As I ride forward, I watch as the buffalo are actually Reindeer, and the plain is cold, but thick with them. I start to count them but am distracted by something passing over the moon, a raven as large as the moon from where I am seated on my horse.
As the sky goes black I blink my eyes and I am sitting at a communal fireside, with a shaman whirling about in circles, or some other holy man of some sort, as all are watching him as he spins and whirls around. He is dancing in a trance, with a long skirt made of pages from fashion magazines like Vogue, a heavy coat/cloak made of more pages, and a tight hat with tendrils that fall down from it (reminded me of a mask of a thousand faces that my friend Raven made), but instead of keys or bells or whatnot at the end of each tendril, it is all beauty supplies- tweezers, lipstick, eyeshadow, eyelash curlers, etc.
He spins as everyone watches, knowing he has something important he will find in his trance. He spins as I watch, and he begins tearing off pages from the outfit, page at a time, in a trance fueled with a holy rage. He spins and tears off pages, and I begin to see some of his, or now I realize maybe her, flesh underneath.
As he/she spins, a raven lands on their head, and begins to peck out an eye, eating it as the shaman still spins, but does not notice the bird- tearing away the pages seems to matter more.
I turn away from the fire and look into the village. A woman who was about your build but with darker hair, pinned up, and heavier lips and a slightly rounder face smiles at me, a raven on her shoulder, as she walks away through a beaded/draperie curtain, that seems to have some sort of playing cards it is also made out of. I am drawn to follow, but she somehow though a single smile tell me no, it is a place of women’s mysteries, behind the curtain.
The raven flies off her shoulder as she goes through the curtain, grabs a card, and drops it on the ground. I look down at it, and it is a card that has a single large cup/chalice in the center, 3 smaller above and 3 smaller below, with a huge moon above and another below the smaller cups. The chalices are white/silver, the moons white/silver, and the card background is blue with a yellow border.
I smell spices in the air, exotic cooking. Eyes smirk out from behind the curtain to the land of women’s rites, and I smell herbs in the air.
I blink again and I am back on the plain.
The woman, or maybe its you, I can’t tell… she’s sitting side saddle on a single reindeer on the plain. She then lets out a slight laugh, once she looks around (to see if no one is there?) and throws her leg over the reindeer, riding now strong and proud and normal (not having to keep up appearances). She was wearing a heavy cloak, and takes it off, and I see that the inside of the heavy cloak was all made of fashion magazines. She laughs, shakes her head, and her hair falls down. She is wearing clothes that cover her and keep her warm, but are of her choosing (no idea how I know that), but are also culturally right (again, no idea). She is carrying a fan of raven feathers and a cup, like the ones from the cards. She rides away and leaves the cloak of fashion magazines, which start to dissolve into the dirt.
I blink, and am back in my tent.
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