The Messengers Of A Dream's Promise

Don't you think it's wonderful how different eyes can see different things in the same thing? They say it's called perspective. Imagination on the other hand... Is a far more interesting and complicated dimension!  So the other day I was scrolling on Facebook when I stumbled upon this challenge. It had this picture and it said  "give it a back story".  I liked the idea, so I thought "why not? let's give it a go!". Here is what my imagination came up with...! If you have your own back story, let me know about it! Mine goes like this: 

"One day, I was doing research about medicinal herbs in the public library when a strange, little book caught my attention. It seemed to be some sort of a vintage, old looking diary, but instead of confessions, it contained a wide collection of folklore tales from different civilizations around the world illustrated with beautiful sketches of enthralling sceneries. I knew reading a stranger's diary was uncalled for, yet the anticipation was to high and I gave in to temptation. As I turned the yellowed pages, I found myself sinking in a universe of myths, legends and fairytales, just like any naive child, neglecting reality for the shake of an other adventure.

A Summer Cottage Close
to the woods

"Once upon a time, there were five children who would not accept that there was no magic left in the world. We all know how children love unearthly things or how easy it is for them to surrender in any illusion created by youth. Connected by bonds of friendship and family, they had a little summer cottage hidden in the woods where they 'd gather and dream of all the wonderful adventures waiting to be lived in the future years. But these years came and passed and soon the children were all grown ups, all the dreams now forgotten along with their summer cottage. They were now serious professionals and respected ladies bearing heavy responsibilities and a certain image to preserve. They had no time for foolish, childish dreams - you see, reality is not compatible with those. 

One day, they decided to visit that little cottage once again. So they did. But since they were very busy people they could only stay one day and one night. They arrived at midday. In the past years the verdure has grown wilder and the neglected gardens flirted with the edge of the woods. After settling in, late in the afternoon one of the girls found an old, dusted, book about mysterious, magical creatures hidden under a bed. When they were little they 'd search under the fallen, rusted leaves for fairies and dwarfs or climb in the trees hopping to catch a starlight winged butterfly. As the night fell, the girl - always dressed in red - came up with a game: "Let's get out in the Forest and follow the first wild animal we meet! ". At first there were, of course, objections. You see, they've never been in the forest after nightfall. But the scary sounds and the dark were only enough to scare little children away. They were adults now, so it could be fun - they thought. 

They wandered on the grounds around the house, trying to locate the once visible paths as the last light of the day slowly faded. Soon, they found an owl. Her lonely, occasional, song was enough to capture their attention.The five friends followed the bird deeper and deeper into the forest. The weird thing was: the bird acted as if it wanted to be followed: Flying from branch to branch waiting for its odd tail to catch up. It was a beautiful starry night, even though the sky was hardly visible under the thick foliage of the tall trees. The atmosphere was filled with humidity and the delicate scent of night flowers. Every now and then their senses caught the low sounds of scared animals running away or a glimpse of shinny pairs of eyes watching curiously the unexpected guests. A soft wind moved the leaves and suddenly it seemed as if they were whispering to each other in some foreign dialect. Suddenly the group stopped in realisation. This illusion was far too realistic. Then the owl bowed and spoke in human voice and said: "Fear not, humans, cause no harm will come upon you. Please, if you 'd be so kind, follow me a little bit longer, just until we reach the very heart of the Forest. I then promise you, all of your questions shall be answered". And so they did. They followed the mysterious animal, their senses now alarmed for any upcoming threats. 

" Give It A Back Story "

Was it a dream? Was this really happening? Everyone kept their thoughts to themselves - too scared that perhaps the smallest human sound could chase the dream away. All at once, a cry broke the silence and the trees started swaying under the command of a violent wind. They all froze in fear when the cry echoed again, this time even louder. Pain, sorrow, despair... A dark figure rose from the darkness. It was a tall four legged creature with horse like lower body, human like torso, and a shapeless head resembling that of a swan. Crippled dark wings grew from it's back, featherless and pathetically bare. It's image was as blurry as if it was projected by a mirror - a trick overused by the stage illusionists at the time - but there was an undeniable aura about it, something of a memory of grace and a hint of sadness that made it clear: there was no trick played there, in this dark, deserted meadow.  "Who are you?" It said with a deep, human voice that seemed to be coming from above, like the artful action of a ventriloquist. Yet none of the terrified people could come up with an answer. "WHO ARE YOU!?" , demanded the creature again. Then the timid voice of the girl in red said : "We are humans. Who are you? Why are you crying?" The creature exhaled wildly. " I have so many names... They call me reality now. But all I am is a shadow of my past self. I was once beautiful and full of colors. Your wishes were the feathers of my wings. You called me Dream back then. But your kind has forgotten me, and I turned dark and grey." Then the creature bend down its tall neck and inhaled their scent deeply. " You five were once children filled with hope, kindness and dreams... You too have forgotten your dreams. But I can still smell a hint of hope in your hearts. Even a sparkle is enough to start a fire. Will you please be my feathers? I need to show the world how to dream again. That reality is just what they make of me. That this world can be colorful again. Please, will you be my messengers?" ...

I never learnt the end of the story. The ink has faded away. But one day, I was gathering flowers in a forest near by when I thought heard an owl talking to a tree. I hid behind a rock and listened. It said about five children who thought themselves adults. It said a Dream has turned them into sounds. Messengers... Maybe I had fallen asleep and everything I witnessed was nothing but a dream. But, sometimes, I think I can hear a soft murmur in the wind calling me to fly or I can feel as if there is a rhythmic - rather comforting - song in the rain and there is also something unique in the crystal sound of people's laughter... And I can't help but wonder...Can't you hear it as well?  "

-E.T.

Story rights reserved 

Ο κόσμος αυτός... και ένας ακόμα

Εάν σας έλεγα, πως ίσως κάπου πάνω στην Γη υπήρχε κάποια παράξενη πύλη που θα σας οδηγούσε σε κάποιον μαγικό, κρυφό και ενδεχομένως επικίνδυνο κόσμο, θα με πιστεύατε? Εαν τώρα σας έδινα την ευκαιρία να διαβείτε την πύλη αυτή, πως θα αντιδρούσατε? Θα θυσιάζατε την σίγουρη καθημερινότητα σας χωρίς δεύτερη σκέψη για χάρη μιας περιπέτειας ή μήπως την τελευταία στιγμή θα διστάζατε να κάνετε το καθοριστικό βήμα?  

Από την Αλίκη που χάθηκε στην χωρά των θαυμάτων ως την μικρή Τσιχίρο που παραλίγο να ξεχαστεί για πάντα στην χώρα των πνευμάτων ή στην Γουέντυ, που κάποιο βράδυ πέταξε από το παράθυρο της με την βοήθεια μιας νεράιδας και την συντροφιά ενός παράξενου αγοριού... Στην πλειοψηφία των λογοτεχνικών και ψηφιακών περιπτώσεων, ο ήρωας/δα περνάει στον παράλληλο κόσμο χωρίς ιδιαίτερη επιλογή. Ένα λάθος, ένα ατύχημα ακόμα και καθαρή περιέργεια ή μια παράξενη συγκυρία είναι συνήθως αρκετά. Η επιλογή ωστόσο, είναι μια εντελώς διαφορετική περίπτωση. Εκεί πρέπει να ζυγίσεις τα υπέρ και τα κατά, τι θα αφήσεις πίσω σου, τι θα σου φέρει ο δρόμος μπροστά σου, ή ακόμα κι αν θα γυρίσεις πότε πίσω μιας και στην ζωή το χαρούμενο τέλος δεν είναι πάντα προδιεγεγραμμένο. 

Θυμάμαι κάποτε έναν συγγραφέα, μια ιδιόμορφη προσωπικότητα με πολύ ζωηρή φαντασία - όπως έλεγαν οι σύγχρονοι του - ή ίσως με πολύ μεγάλη διορατικότητα. Το αφήνω σε εσάς να το κρίνετε. Μίλησε για πολλά πράγματα: Για ένα αριστοκρατίκο υποβρύχιο με έναν ιδιότροπο πλοίαρχο, για μια βόλτα στο φεγγάρι ή ακόμα και για ένα ταξίδι στο κέντρο της Γης. Μπορεί να μην είμαι "Βερνίστρια" - ωστόσο οφείλω να ομολογήσω πως κάποια από αυτά τα σενάρια λίγα χρόνια αργότερα βγήκαν αληθινά.

Ας μείνουμε λοιπόν στο τελευταίο και στην θεωρία της κοίλης γης, σύμφωνα με την οποία, στο εσωτερικό του πλανήτη μας βρίσκεται κρυμμένος ένας ακόμα κόσμος γνωστός με τα πολλά ονόματα: Αγκάρθα, Αγκάρθι, Η Απαγορευμένη Χώρα, Η Χώρα Των Λευκών Νερών, Η Χώρα Των Ακτινοβόλων Πνευμάτων ή Sambhala (στα Σανσκριτικά). Έχω την προσοχή σας? Ωραία.  Η θεωρία αυτή σαφώς δεν είναι επιβεβαιωμένη και ενδεχομένως ανήκει μόνο στην σφαίρα του θρύλου, του μεταφυσικού ή ίσως άπλα στην φιλοσοφική πραγματικότητα και κοσμογονία. Πολλοί την στήριξαν στη πολικότητα: Ένας εξωτερικός κόσμος απαιτεί την ύπαρξη ενός εσωτερικού. Μα, τα "θεμέλια" - αν μπορώ να το θέσω έτσι, είναι ουσιαστικά ανύπαρκτα, όπως συμβαίνει πάντα με τις  μεταφυσικές θεωρίες. 

Αναφορές για την ύπαρξη αυτού του θρυλικού κόσμου έχουν βρεθεί στους διαλόγους του Πλάτωνα στο "Φαίδων" που χαρακτηριστικά αναφέρει: "Ένα ξεχωριστό από όλα τα χάσματα της Γης, υπάρχει και είναι μέγιστο, αφού διαπερνά ολόκληρη την Γη από το ένα άκρο αυτής ως το άλλο." Ή και του Σωκράτη στο έργο του "Τα τε υπό της Γης και ουράνια". Ενώ ο Αμερικανός ερευνητής John Cleves Symmes υποστήριζε με πάθος πως η Αγκάρθα ήταν ένα πραγματικό σύμπαν στην καρδιά του δικού μας και μάλιστα με κάτοικους, μα όταν ζήτησε οικονομική βοήθεια για να αποκαλύψει τις συντεταγμένες ενός περάσματος, αυτή δεν του δόθηκε πότε. 

Ο θρύλος τον περιγράφει ως τον κόσμο στον οποίο βασιλεύει  η σοφία, η δύναμης και ο πλούτος και κατοικείται από αθάνατους. Αποτέλεσε μάλιστα και το καταφύγιο των κάτοικων της μυθικής Ατλαντίδας μετά την καταστροφή της. Πέρα από αυτά όμως, δεν έχουμε πολλά στοιχειά για τους κάτοικους της. Κάποιοι υποστηρίζουν ότι είναι όντα με πολύ εξελιγμένη τεχνολογία, άλλοι αθάνατοι και μαγικά πλάσματα, ενώ οι προθέσεις τους για την ανθρωπότητα – φιλικές  ή όχι - αμφισβητούνται επίσης. 

Αν και η θεωρία εγκαταλήφθηκε το 18ο αι. , η ιδέα μιας χαμένης, υπόγειας χώρας αναδύεται ακόμα μέσα από τους θρύλους και τις θρησκείες σε όλα τα μήκη και τα πλάτη της Γης: Από τον φύλακα του κάτω κόσμου, Άδη, της Ελληνικής μυθολογίας, στο μυθικό σπηλαίο  Cruachan των Κελτών από οπού παράξενα πλάσματα έβγαιναν στην επιφάνεια ή ακόμα στους θρύλους των φυλών Angami Naga της Ινδίας, των οποίων οι πρόγονοι αναδύθηκαν από τα βάθη της Γης και τις υποψίες  της ύπαρξης κάποιου μυστηριώδους περάσματος στο Γκραντ Κάνιον.

Πολλές φορές στο παρελθόν έπιασα τον εαυτό μου να αναρωτιέται πως ο Τόλκιν φαντάστηκε την μέση γη ή τα μαγικά πλάσματα που την κατοικούν σε αυτή. Πως εμπνεύστηκε η ύπαρξη μικροσκοπικών νάνων, πανίσχυρων μάγων ή οι φωτιές των δράκων που σιγόκαιγαν στα βάθη των βουνών? Τόσες εικόνες που ταλανίζουν την ανθρώπινη φαντασία από την αρχή των αιώνων... Μου φαινόταν παράξενο όλη αυτή η έμπνευση να προέρχονταν μονάχα από ένα όνειρο και άπλα δεν μπορούσα να δεχθώ πως οι συγγραφείς ήταν θεοπάλαβοι! Ίσως μαρτύρησαν κάποτε κάτι ή μάλλον μίλησαν με κάποιον  - έλεγε η παιδική φαντασία - και επέλεξαν αυτό τον τρόπο να το μοιραστούν με τον κόσμο. Εάν λοιπόν κάπου κάτω από τα πόδια μας, υπάρχει ένας άγνωστος κόσμος γεμάτος με όντα που πυροδότησαν τα όσα στοίχειωσαν τα όνειρα των ανθρώπων, το αφήνω σε εσάς να το αποφασίσετε. Ίσως είναι ένας ακόμα θρύλος ή μια ακόμα ανεξερεύνητη περιπέτεια! Εάν από την άλλη είναι ακόμα ένα απελπισμένο όνειρο, τότε άπλα θα σας θυμίσω την φράση του Willy Wonka "We are the music makers and the dreamers of dreams". Ακόμα και αυτό έχει μια δόση ρομαντισμού...

-E.T.

WARNING! Our heroes fade away...

So, yesterday, I visited my uncle’s village. It’s a beautiful small group of houses hidden in the mountains. It has a lake not far from his house, and a beautiful lonely church standing a bit aside from the main village, as if watching the people from above. I am more of a sea person, but I kind of enjoy nature in all its forms… If it ever came to a choice between mountains and the sea, I‘d definitely go with the sea option. Yet, nature amazes me in every possible way. Laying in the grass, watching the sky and admiring the lake while the only music around me comes from the bird singing and the winds soft whisper in the tree leaves… it’s like a fairytale! It’s freedom!

As a city child, I ‘ve never had had the opportunity of spending hours running in the wild, exploring caves and forests or swimming on a lake – possibly searching for all sort of magical creatures and treasures hiding out there. On the contrary I was spending my time reading books about unicorns and fairies, warlocks and witches and dreaming of the moment that this world of magic would finally open its doors to me! I believed that, just like Alice, I would drop into a rabbit’s hole or maybe a fairy would fly one night through my window and take me to a magical place hidden between the stars. Sometimes, I even imagined finding a dragon and with him I‘d travel the world or sailing all the way through the sunset with a golden ship made of sunshine. God knows how many years I‘ve waited for my Hogwarts letter to arrive – wondering what might have happened to my owl or how I wished I ‘d discover a wardrobe leading to Narnia.

Day by day, I was adding more and more heroes in my collection. So many, that I could not possibly write about all of them here. It was as if the letters were rising from the white pages of my books forming weird bridges between fantasy and reality. One day I was wearing a mask and a bed sheet pretending to be a great swordsman like Zorro and the next one I was off to an adventure with D’Artanian, Luke Skywalker or the Black Tulip! Oh, and those great trips with the Black Pearl and vicious pirates while plowing across the seven seas? What could I possibly say about them?  Funny how fast a princess can turn into an assassin or an avenger when you are a child , is it not?

I am a grown up girl now. I know, or more likely I got used to the idea that such fairytales and wonderful creatures don’t exist in the real world. I’ve learnt that humans can’t grow wings and that horses cannot fly. I ‘ve learnt all the rules of Chemistry and Physics – with a part of me still hopping that somewhere in there lies the answer of why we can’t find all the wonders we imagine. I also became fond of new heroes. I dreamt of having a chat with Leonardo DaVinci or Newton. I imagined of what it would be like to have a cup of tea with Queen Victoria in the Buckingham palace. I started to dress like Lady Dianna – adding class and style into my everyday life. My whole life I was an undercover cosplayer of all the heroes – both real and not real – who made an impact to my personality. I‘ve met them all. I know them all so well. And still, I carry each and every one of them in my heart.

Even now, even though it’s been a long long time since I started realising that the  Disney princesses where only beautiful drawings with an inspiring message, a part of me denies to accept that all this colourful childhood was only a fraud of writers and directors who played with my mind. I admit that I am still looking forward to the next Disney or Barbie movie. And that the last few years I became a Viking who could tame dragons and a Celtic princess who was extremely talented on archery. I’ve spent a lot of afternoons with the company of young Merlin and Arthur (sometimes making research about the whole Arthurian legend and trying to separate facts from myth with help from the Knight Malory) I laughed and cried with them, sometimes both at the same time to be honest. Then a dear friend of me helped me make an acquaintance with a new kind of Sherlock Holmes. Having read the original tales from Arthur Conan Doyle, I was surprised seeing the weird and vagarious hero being even weirder and an extreme “high functional sociopath” placed in the modern world. At first, it was not pleasant for me to see the hero I’ve always imagined sitting by the fire, using cellphones and acting all crazy-er that the usual Sherlock.

Until now, all I‘ve done was mumbling about my childhood’s and present dreams and illusions. You may wonder “what was the point of even reading all of this”? Well, I can’t help but notice that the last few years children are lacking their childishness. They don’t dream anymore. They don’t go to adventures. They don’t want to spend a day on the wild. They just want stand in front of a computer screen scrolling their way out of their problems. Watching my baby cousin handling a tablet yesterday with such ease it made me wonder: Is technology starting to invade our DNA? We made technology to conquer the world. Instead it starts to consume our lives, stealing our moments and dreams. Most children don’t ask dolls for Christmas anymore only for the new iPhone. That may be quite normal for a teenager, but do you really feel it’s normal for a child? I never wanted a stupid cellphone when I was young. I wanted a unicorn plushie. Don’t you feel like the heroes we so loved are left forgotten and covered in dust while vulgar and precocious Antonella (From the Patty TV show) and more weird creatures (aka Monster high dolls holding coffins and stuff) steal their show? Since when vulgar is a replacement for elegance?  Why bring a child – the very source of life - close to death by giving them creepy looking dolls?  Your kids still have the ability of dreaming. Just teach them the way.

It’s true that even though I have spent countless nights searching among the stars I never found a way to Neverland and that, at least until now, I ‘ve never found a secret door leading to Wonderland. Still, sometimes, a voice, like a whisper in my mind tells me that maybe this little secret path does exist. If not, how could people write about all those thing? Was Tolkien crazy? I seriously doubt it. I came to discover that maybe this entrance hides somewhere in this world. And if we cannot literally cross paths with it within a magic cave or an enchanted forest we will definitely find it inside our hearts. I know how to dream. I know how to grow wings. I’ve learnt how to fly. Do you?

-E.T.

(all rights reserved)