Dreaming Dragon Dies

Dreaming Dragon was being caressed, carelessly, slightly distractedly, by the Wellness Specialist of the Cloud Kingdom when the Sun Master came from a cloud higher in the sky and descended downward, hooking his foot onto a small loop sticking out of the Wellness Center and flipping, downward, to the very place Dreaming Dragon had just vomited. His curled, almost cheeto-puffy cloudshoes splatted mildly in the pool of puke.

A tiny, imperceptible creep of disgust wound its way across his nose into the squinting regions of his eyes.

“Dreaming Dragon,” he said. “I am going to help you forever.”

“You never have to worry about heaving your troubles on your back. I am here for you and will solve your problems through the glowing light of my sun, child. Come into my sun and I will cure you.”

Dreaming Dragon, confused, began to step backwards, trying to remember who… who… Where was Dreaming Dragon? How had Dreaming Dragon entered the clouds? No answers were revealed but the sense of searching began to unsettle a shaking, quivering sense of wonder and dopamine inside of Dreaming Dragon’s lower chest.

The Sun Priest gently extracted a long strand of goldencloud from the edges of a nearby nimbus and twisted it into a gentle braid. He was humming a cold, almost elegaic kind of melody, then looked up to Dreaming Dragon and said, “You will be fixed.”

Dreaming Dragon, invigorated in the imagining of his enigma, “Where did all this and myself come from,” suddenly found a resistance in the lower left region of the torso. Shooting pain carried with it on the electric nerve signal the message that, while safe, while good, while un-fixable and unneeding to improve, Dreaming Dragon could best be better away from the Sun Priest, standing over the dead body of the Sun Priest, maybe even drinking the blood of the Sun Priest in a chilled glass resting against the trunk of a grounded, dying tree.

It was then that Dreaming Dragon got a tingling sensation at the skull’s crown, and in an uncanny sixth sense most resembling echolocation realized two things: one, that the visualizations of killing and drinking the Sun Priest were “sensible” (able to and being experienced) above the skull’s crown, and two, that not only could all Cloud Citizen’s observe these visualizations (which, Dreaming Dragon imagined, began somewhere around the time the recent enigma of wondering began), but that they had always had this facility of sense and were using it around Dreaming Dragon at all times. The sense that thought-echolation had been occurring all around Dreaming Dragon at all times suggested a mild paranoia, alienation, and an even more heightened sense of wanting to rip apart the Sun Priest, to pull him apart like a cotton ball, to hear the noise of a cotton ball pulled apart in screechy, almost above-the-range-of-human-hearing discomfort.

By now the Sun Priest had made five braids of the goldencloud and had attached to them some gleaming prism-esque lightshackles that couldn’t be looked into directly. The crowd of the Wellness Center was busily beaming echos, bumping their heads up and down and Dreaming Dragon could make out only slight reverbs of sneering judgment in their bobbling heads.

“I’m binding you for your protection now,” said the Sun Priest. The Cloud Citizens leaped in one coordination onto Dreaming Dragon’s shaking body.

“I’ll kill you all, I’ll rip apart every single one of you,” said Dreaming Dragon in a half-dazed insistence.

Dreaming Dragon’s hands, feet and neck were tied tight with cloudbraid.

“We have given you the greatest gift,” said the Sun Priest when the restraints were so complete that Dreaming Dragon felt made of stone, catatonic, strangely deep inside an unknown paralysis of all emotion and sense. Somewhere Dreaming Dragon heard the sound of a bubbling creekbed’s river, a river that might have, hypothetically, engulfed all of Dreaming Dragon’s senses into one flow of sense and consciousness.

“You will stay put {and suffer} until you understand how and what we do {understand and perform}.”

“Yes,” said another Cloud Citizen. “Your vomit was a {farce and untrustable}. Why do {you insist on being so negative?}”

“You are {a demon, a sad clown, a bad person}” said the Wellness Specialist. “You will {die here}. We {do not love you.}”

Dreaming Dragon remembered, for a moment, the song of Chief Homonculus, rumbling in the soft didgeridoo-ing that swallowed the Nameless Village so foreign, so distinct and distant. At the skull’s crown came a screeching hawk, like a great phlegm was being coughed, deep green and thick, and when Dreaming Dragon looked down there was a hole in the center of where a body was supposed to be. At unimaginable speeds came a severed owl’s head, blood streaking so quickly it cast a spraypaint tan on the entire circle.

The owlhead landed square in the ribs of the Sun Priest and caved his chest in. He bent over in death and dissolved into a cloud. The Cloud Citizens started to kick Dreaming Dragon’s immobile body.

At the very moment that the kicks shifted from discrete, singular events to a smear of violent thumpings as one entire movement, Dreaming Dragon remembered the morning, THAT it was morning, and entered death.


About vurinstitute

Horatio Somersault is the Director and Regent Chancellor of the VUR Institute, a think tank involving some as-yet-unknown and slightly spooky manipulations of time and interdimensionality. In his spare time Somersault enjoys writing poems and fables. You can read his writings, as well as those of other VUR inhabitants, at vurinstitute.wordpress.com. Though he lives a wanderer's life, his hometown is a domed biome inside the water core of the moon Europa. You can follow his experiences adapting to the customs of the early 21st century on his Twitter @VURdirector and can email him at vurinstitute at gmail dot com.
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