It could be said that Rose awoke a short time before the coming of the dawn on the fateful day, if, of course you could believe he did sleep in the conventionally known manner of sleeping. There is, however, no way of knowing what state a dreamweaver succumbs to when their energies grow weak (if they ever do). It’s said that they depart wholly from earth and travel through strange and unknown chasms and vortices across the shadowy universe; that they dissolve their tangible forms and roam endlessly through aeons of time before time as vaporous entities.
Excerpt from the short story, Rose The Liquid Boy
Once upon a time, in the very land you live, the world was very strange. To say upon which time the world was strange might prove to be rather difficult, so I’ll just say that it was somewhere close to six hundred million years before the existence of memory, or possibly, two billions years from now. You see my reluctance. Some might even try to convince you that the time has always been right now. Nevertheless, the world was (is) very strange.
The land blossomed to the horizons with breathless valleys, seas of golden desert cascades, graceful rolling grasslands, and endless, ancient forests. It was healthy and clean – and strong. But this wilderness you might not recognize, for its wakefulness was so intense that it made manifest its spirits to sight. Within the ancient seas of forest and flourishing, mystic valleys the voice of the earth spoke, and watched over all that lived. It was a virgin, untouched world, and it was awake and singing.
There were also other things that dwelt in these lands – aside, of course, from the native animals. Things that were hidden away in the deepest shadows of the endless forests, and buried in the furthest corners of the valleys and mountains and deserts. Things that were always watching, and always whispering. Then, there were those who watched over the watchers, and all other things as well. It is said that they were once “caretakers”, but were fragmented in three by an unknown cause, when the mother earth was still one land. Of the three there were the Others, whom we will not speak of, and of course the ones who this story is about. We will call them dreamweavers – to help you comprehend them as entities.
Today, my friend, I share with you a small chapter in the life of Rose, the liquid boy. It’s a tale of a journey, as all great tales are. I will take you into a world beyond the outer reaches of the unplumbed imagination. It is the world of Rose. The world of dreamweavers.