Death Over Dreaming

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | normal | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx : 2 , agit : 1


I re-read Neil Gaiman's Endless Nights last night. Lovely bit of work. My favorite ones were the Dream and Desire segments - delicious art, simple-but-profound story.

There was this bit in the Dream part in which a character (a star, actually) remarks that Dream is even more cruel than his sister, Death. I think about it and I see why.

And I don't just mean the characters.

He indeed gives life - personification of imagination, of poetry, of song, of infinite possibilities -
One profound and enigmatic as his starlight-pool eyes is someone to be wary of.
He indeed is a bringer of hope.
Bu he too is a crusher of it.
He'd build you up - sweetly, gradually - and then bring you down with one sudden swing.
Impetuous, tempestuous.
Full of longing and love - also of loathing. Of adoration and aberration. Even abhoration.
A wonderful ally but a formidable foe.

She indeed wears a numinous aura about her.
Cold and unsympathetic, feared and revered.
Stable and dependable - like one's oldest friend - she soothes and smooths out the scarrings of life.
She brings quiet to chaos, even to the most severe of them; offers forgetting if not forgiving.
Peace and silence.

She isn't so bad; and he isn't so lovely.

I think I prefer her embrace more than his right now.