Experiment 105 Archangel Azrael

The Dreamweaver - age 5

She looks around the vast orange hall with golden pillars decorated with intricate motifs and patterns that flow seamlessly below her tiny feet and stretch out above her. She has not yet learned the words to describe what she sees but she knows how pretty and serene it all appears to her.

There are people gathered in small clusters to the sides of the great hall. She cannot recognize them yet they seem familiar to her as they interact quietly. An elderly relative approaches her, offers an open hand and smiles kindly. She is vaguely aware that some ceremony is about to begin and takes the proffered hand.

As she follows her guardian to the side, a booming sound grows from the iridescent centre of the hall and wind instruments sound to herald the arrival of the priests robed in shades of orange. They move purposefully, drumming their steps and humming their voices to the sombre tune.

She looks on enchanted and moved by the prayer that is unfolding before her. For a fleeting second, she feels safe and sad at the same time. She holds on a little tighter to the elder’s hand and watches intently as the priests converge in the middle of the floor, their chants grow louder. Her heart beats more rapidly, following the crescendo of their invocation.

The vast hall seems to fill up slowly with the echoing presence of many people whom she senses but cannot see. Tears form at the corner of her eyes as she realizes the import of this gathering; they are facilitating the passing of a soul. She closes her eyes as tears blur her sight..

\\ The little girl awoke with a start, her clear eyes opened to a wall face darkened by night. She was lying in bed curled up and hugging her mini bolster. The sudden change in colours startled her. Her small mind raced to find a reason for the different pictures. It disturbed her. Her heart was still lodged in the aftermath of her dream and she started to sob.

\\ Her grandmother stirred beside her. Another dream had broken the little one’s sleep again. Her wrinkled hand stretched over to pat the girl’s shoulder. It was the comforting touch needed to bring her grandchild back to this reality. The girl turned over to face her grandmother and snuggled a little closer as she wiped her tears on her baby bolster.

\\ She watched her grandmother intently in the dim light as she mentally resolved her dream. Her beloved grandmama was right here, tapping her to sleep. She reached out to hold her grandmama’s wizened hand. It felt real, just like that elder’s hand. Maybe this was another place and the orange priests were going to take her grandmother away.

\\ Someone had disappeared whom she knew but she did not know who. She did not yet understand the words but she remembered the feelings of emptiness and loss. She was confused and that made her sad. The rhythmic beat of grandmama’s touch was soothing. She closed her eyes.