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Having a Recurring Dream: The Journey of the Magi
Sunday, 29 June 2025 10:10This letter (unsent) is not the account of the dreams the Soft-Eyed Mycologist had on the night from 24th of June to 25th of June, submitted to the Ex-Disgraced Academic. This letter was penned a few hours before the submitted account was drafted, heavily revised, and finally sealed in an envelope.
I belong to thee as thou belongst to me, and only to thee as thou only to me. This is not love; it will not save us. It will not condemn us.
Tonight I dreamed of the tomb which is a cradle again, and of thy person. I wish thee entered my dreams again. All I have seen lately is only the shadow of thine. ‘Tis the call of violant, forging the link between what I know that I know and what I know not yet that I know. I remember. My is the colour of memory; thy is the colour unnaming. Should my memory fail me, this letter shall persevere.
We travelled through the endless night. It was cold, as only night knows to be. The ways deep and the wind sharp. The very dead of winter; if I may call it winter, for winter is preceded by autumn and followed by fall. There was no time and no snow. Only the cold wind and the ash.
I had two companions. I knew them well then, but I know them not now. We spoke not, for there was nothing left to say between us. They held my hands, shackles of flesh and bone. I went willingly.
We were sore of feet and minds. We found no rest in laying down, in the ash-snow that melted upon our bodies until it robbed us of all the warmth we had left. Then it no longer thawed. We walked through the last winter after which there was nothing, three bodies as one, breathing and pale as the dead.
I recall reaching the cradle. ‘Twas a depression in stone from which the stars averted its light. The length was of a body and the depth was without an end. Icy water filled it to the brim, with a crust of ash upon its foam.
Within the cold water was not the body of a god. I did not see it and I did not offer a prayer to it, for I know not how to pray to such a god. Even if I knew, there is no god worthy of a prayer.
My chains, my companions, bound me to that tomb, they pushed me into the water. ‘Twas cold, colder than love, colder than life, colder than the night which knows no dawn. But my body was colder still.
The stone around me was a cage from which I knew no escape. Never before had I been submerged for this long. Never before had I known the world above the water’s surface.
My lungs burned, they ached for air.
That was when thou pulledst the cage from the cold water with a great rattling of the chains from which it and I were suspended. I knew this person to be thee and not-thee, for I saw thy face, and I knew within the dream as I know upon waking thou wouldst never bare thyself in such indecency.
My body was cold and naked and ached for thy warmth. I begged this false thee to embrace me. I cried, tears burning through the icy crust on my face.
Thy reflection dropped me back into the black waters of the grave that was no longer there. I knew it to be thy mercy, thy rescue from the nightmare of the tomb and cradle and the journey beyond the end.
I called for thee.
Water filled my lungs. I know well the necessity. Only when I am cold within and without, only then I know how to appreciate thy warmth. Only when my hearts have stopped, I know how to live in thine.
I wish it were thy hands that held me in the cold, dark waters. Thy teeth that tore me apart.
Thine, as always
[the signature is illegible]
Addressed to: My heart
I belong to thee as thou belongst to me, and only to thee as thou only to me. This is not love; it will not save us. It will not condemn us.
Tonight I dreamed of the tomb which is a cradle again, and of thy person. I wish thee entered my dreams again. All I have seen lately is only the shadow of thine. ‘Tis the call of violant, forging the link between what I know that I know and what I know not yet that I know. I remember. My is the colour of memory; thy is the colour unnaming. Should my memory fail me, this letter shall persevere.
We travelled through the endless night. It was cold, as only night knows to be. The ways deep and the wind sharp. The very dead of winter; if I may call it winter, for winter is preceded by autumn and followed by fall. There was no time and no snow. Only the cold wind and the ash.
I had two companions. I knew them well then, but I know them not now. We spoke not, for there was nothing left to say between us. They held my hands, shackles of flesh and bone. I went willingly.
We were sore of feet and minds. We found no rest in laying down, in the ash-snow that melted upon our bodies until it robbed us of all the warmth we had left. Then it no longer thawed. We walked through the last winter after which there was nothing, three bodies as one, breathing and pale as the dead.
I recall reaching the cradle. ‘Twas a depression in stone from which the stars averted its light. The length was of a body and the depth was without an end. Icy water filled it to the brim, with a crust of ash upon its foam.
Within the cold water was not the body of a god. I did not see it and I did not offer a prayer to it, for I know not how to pray to such a god. Even if I knew, there is no god worthy of a prayer.
My chains, my companions, bound me to that tomb, they pushed me into the water. ‘Twas cold, colder than love, colder than life, colder than the night which knows no dawn. But my body was colder still.
The stone around me was a cage from which I knew no escape. Never before had I been submerged for this long. Never before had I known the world above the water’s surface.
My lungs burned, they ached for air.
That was when thou pulledst the cage from the cold water with a great rattling of the chains from which it and I were suspended. I knew this person to be thee and not-thee, for I saw thy face, and I knew within the dream as I know upon waking thou wouldst never bare thyself in such indecency.
My body was cold and naked and ached for thy warmth. I begged this false thee to embrace me. I cried, tears burning through the icy crust on my face.
Thy reflection dropped me back into the black waters of the grave that was no longer there. I knew it to be thy mercy, thy rescue from the nightmare of the tomb and cradle and the journey beyond the end.
I called for thee.
Water filled my lungs. I know well the necessity. Only when I am cold within and without, only then I know how to appreciate thy warmth. Only when my hearts have stopped, I know how to live in thine.
I wish it were thy hands that held me in the cold, dark waters. Thy teeth that tore me apart.
Thine, as always
[the signature is illegible]
