Today is the anniversary of the death of my high school friend Brandy Brown Henderson. Please, honor the dead. Respect them ... thank you. She died tragically when her sister's pickup overturned, and since she wasn't wearing her seatbelt, she was flung from the vehicle and crushed. She died instantly. At least ... she did not suffer ... Rest in peace, dear Brandy ... Thank you. This is a dream entry. Fair warning, if you are strongly offended by pedophiles or the threat of rape - if you just cannot STAND hearing about them, do not read on. Thank you. I had a dream again. I rather important dream, I feel. I was eight-years-old. The people I was traveling with, I was a stark contrast to them. Here I was, a small, delicate and beautiful boy among large, burly, strong men. They are all dressed in black leather, some looking like battle gear or like bikers or gang members. They are frightening to me and I am with them. There’s two prominent members in this dream. One was the second in command, who reminds me, now, of “Father” from Equilibrium, but his face was a little more square; he had shortly-cropped and messy auburn hair and beard stubble. He wore the leather armor-like-a-biker clothes and he had eyes that were usually cold and threatening, but when I was near him, or he looked at me or I was involved, he would suddenly become warm and protective, almost like an uncle. Then there was the leader – who was actually –Him- in disguise. He had black hair to his neck and was very, very tall. He was also wearing that biker armor, but he didn’t look as elegant as he usually did. He was constantly giving orders to the men – we had to keep moving and fast. But I kept wishing that I could get his attention, somehow – that he would pay attention to me, just a little … and it just made me more and more sad when he would spend all of his time with those men, giving orders, being a leader – I understood that he was a very busy man, but I still felt so alienated and forgotten … There was one place we had to stop at – a very, very tall and wide building. It reminded me of a market of sorts. All sorts of things were there – all sorts of shops, a stopping place for travelers. This building was very metallic, however, but the shops were very colorful. There were also rooms there, like a hotel, that were on the upper floors. I remember I was wearing a white tee-shirt and these black, cotton pants with an elastic waist – like they were pajamas or something. And at first I wasn’t wearing any shoes or socks, until the second-in-command (let’s call him Commander) came from one of the stores with some white socks and a simple pair of black sneakers for me. He doted on me too much maybe, and that made –Him- nervous, though –he- didn’t do anything about it because of the very compelling fact that I trusted Commander and no one else but he and –Him-. I remember putting on the shoes and socks right in front of the Commander and while I was trying the shoes, he had this look of pride on his face … we was actually almost teary-eyed. I remember looking strangely at him for that, but I gave him a smile that seemed to have made his day. I remember that at the beginning, I hadn’t said a word … to anyone. Not even him. We had this airship outside the market, it was huge, and at the time we had just stopped for supplies and to let the men have a “good time.” There was a time that I went into the stock room alone to help the men pack medical cassettes for out on-board infirmary. I was alone in there, with the box of cassettes, leading them correctly into a metal box marked “Medicine.” I hear the clanky squeak of the stock room’s metal door and three of our men came walking in. I just waved at them and smiled, not thinking anything of it, just trusting they were there to check on their supplies, and went back to loading the cassettes. I heard things like “He’s alone. How did he manage to get away from the captain?” And they walked behind me and one with long, scraggly dark brown hair asked me “What are you doing here all by yourself, boy?” And I looked over my shoulder, smiled at him, and held up a cassette for him to see before turning back around to place it in the box. One of the other mean said, almost mockingly, “Oh look how helpful he is. Little prince is lowering himself to common work!” I gave him a confused, side-ways glance, then went back to working. Then one touched my hair, and I just froze. There were no more smiles left in me. I started to get up to leave, but he grabbed my arms and forced me down, into the floor. I was scared. Truly scared. I felt cold, all over, freezing, my spine spreading ice through my body. I was so afraid. I knew he was going to hurt me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe – I gasped for air – I could even find my voice to call out to someone for help. He just kept pushing me down into this cold, metal floor – that was like a grate, like the floor of a fire escape – and it hurt. It was so cold and he just kept pushing and pushing. I could feel something leaving me, like energy, being zapped out of me. The man on top of me said something like “Hey guys, touch him. Touch him. You can feel his power.” He pulled me up so the others could touch and I had … hands … all over me … hands. Everywhere, hands! HANDS! I felt like I was choking, the cold, frightening tingle in my stomach. There was a tongue in my mouth, another in on my jaw. And somehow, I managed to lift my hand and press it to the forehead of the one holding me. I managed to take a breath and bite into his tongue as this hot beam came out of my hand and pierce his skull – blood splattered everywhere. I could taste it in my mouth – it was on my face, my hands, my clothes. I fell to the floor – hit my head. So nauseated. I wanted to vomit. Then suddenly, the other two men screamed – there was the sickening sound of crushing bones and slicing flesh. I gasped for air. I could breathe again and I just kept gasping. I could see the Commander killing these men through my third eye. He was so pissed of. As he was ripping them apart – literally – I could hear him yelling at me: “Never run off! How many times have we told you never to go anywhere alone?” And I rolled onto my knees and elbows and kept trying to spit out the taste of blood. I was crying so hard – no sound was coming from me other than my gasps. And I just stared at my hands and started shaking and sobbing. I was so scared. I had just killed someone! And Commander came to me – he was angry, but not at me – and that all just seemed to fade when he saw me, and the dead man. I was hyperventilating, getting dizzy. I was going to pass out. I know it. Everything was just so fuzzy. “LARC!” he yelled and pulled me into his arms. He ran off with me then, out of the room into this elevator, we went up and up and up and then he ran out, carrying me into this room and locking the door. He put me in this bathtub and stripped my bloody clothes from me. He turned on the shower – and I immediately curled up because the water was so cold. But it slowly became warmer and I could feel his hands on me, cleaning me – and I didn’t feel threatened. I was still scared, however … because I had just killed someone – but the commander was there, so I felt somewhat safe. He turned off the water and wrapped me in this super large white towel and carried me from the bath to the bed, and set me down on the mattress. Every time he would move to get me some clothes, I would try to latch onto him again. Finally, I had to deal with it and he brought back these black pants and tee-shirt. He dressed me. And the second my clothes were on, I latched onto him, throwing my arms around his neck. I just kept whispering over and over again. “I’m sorry, Commander. I’m sorry.” I think it was the first time I’d ever spoken to him – and it was “I’m sorry.” He seemed shocked and grabbed my arms, holding me out so he could see my face. I started to say it again – but he stopped me. He told me that I was too young for this. He told me that he didn’t want me to remember any of this, that I should live a happy childhood. He told me he was going to give me something to make me forget, that he only had one and that he was saving it for an important, crucial moment – and this was it – because no child deserved to go through that. He told me to open my mouth – and he put a black pill on my tongue and closed my mouth that dissolved almost immediately. He told me that in an hour, I wouldn’t remember anything that had happened that day. “An hour?” I heard –Him- say. I looked, -he- was standing in the doorway. –He- said “that is enough time.” I whispered, “Master.” -He- came to me and stroked my hair, told the commander to “excuse us” and he left, and so I stared at –Him- for a moment as he continued to stroke my jaw and knelt before me. He looked up at me – “You will not remember this,” he claimed, “so it is time.” I looked at him strangely and he grasped the sides of my head and said, looking in my eyes, “Time to come out, my love.” And suddenly, it was like I was watching from both outside my body and within. I had completely changed demeanor. I felt so regal and elegant, old and wise – so very, very, very old – as well as filled with this immense sadness and loneliness, though a slight bit of comfort and relief at seeing him, as though it was the first time I had seen him in ages. It’s so difficult to explain. I took his hands in mine and pulled them carefully away from my head, just kept staring at him. He seemed immensely respectful. He whispered, looking up to me, clasping his hands around mine, “Oh beautiful Child of Light … it has been so long.” I whispered, “Rashnu …” “The people, they still do not understand. They still have misconceptions of you – but we are still trying to help them understand.” “Thank you,” I whisper, and slowly move my arms around his neck and rest my chin on his shoulder. I close my eyes and say, “Please, protect this child. Do not allow him to experience such atrocities again, for his adult life will be filled with them. Let him be happy while he can.” “Yes, my love.” I felt his arms around me, squeezing me affectionately. “I missed you.” “And I, you, my love,” I whispered back. Then I said against his ear, “You know you cannot win their love through fear and pain.” Then he looked into my face again, touching my cheek. He said, “We are trying our best.” “You must be careful, my love. Beware of impulse. Listen to logic. Please …” “Yes, beautiful one. I do as you wish.” “Thank you …” Then he kissed me. Slow at first, then gradually growing ravenously hungry – like a lover separated for far too long. I liked it – I wanted more, I’d felt so lonely and empty – but as he pushed me into the bed, I became worried for my body. I said among his kisses, “He is still a child.” “I will be gentle,” he said and kissed me again. He kept whispering, over and over, “I love you.” But never once did he go below my waist – not once. He respected me too much to violate my trust. That’s how the dream ended, with him kissing me, over and over. When I woke up, I wanted to go back to those kisses. I’d felt so warm and loved … ***Side note: “Zigeunerweisen” means “Gypsy Magi,” I believe. Something like that …