Archive-name: Dreams/emerald.txt

Archive-author: Sarah Jahn

Archive-title: Dreams of an Emerald Forest



* 1 thru 4 *





     I pulled up the sheets to meet my ear, and pushed my body futher

under the comforter. Ever since I was little, some part of me had always 

feared being exposed at night to monsters. Of course, common sense told me 

there was no such thing, but it just made me feel more secure. 

     

     Before long, I was slipping into sleep. One minute I was looking at 

the blurry picture of the room, illuminated in shades of grey, then 

nothingness. I'd thought before it seemed like what dying would be like...

just fuzzy thoughts then no consciousness. Maybe dreams were hints of 

what heaven or hell would be like, after a imitation of death.

     

     Dreams were something I've always been interested in. As a child, they 

had been simplistic, either catagorizing what happened that day, or bad. 

The bad were full of creatures that made frightening noises, chased me, 

but weak enough so that I could never confront them and meet them. For 

some reason, not knowing what was after you made it scarier. But as I got 

older, the dreams got more interesting, full of images that seemed created 

out of a science fiction novel, and scenes in full color, that jumped from one 

story to another. They seemed logical when you were in them, but once out, 

if you tried to explain them to others later, it was a fragile mix of 

broken up vignettes, with all the important details forgotten. 

     

     Next thing I was seeing was hills, of some landscape I had 

never seen before, at least not in real life. They looked like something 

out of a National Geographic special... dusky light breaking down onto 

rocky peaks, which were rising out of an incredibly emerald green plain, 

made up of high-reaching trees of a tropical forest. The sky was a deep

turquoise, turning a deeper blue as it curved down over me, disappearing 

behind the trees that stretched as far as I could see. The smell of strange

flowers drifted in the air, like airborne spices. I jumped at the sound 

of an animal's harsh cry nearby. For a dream, it was remarkably realistic. 

I looked down at the ground I was standing on, it was covered with tiny 

plants growing, or trying to. The light, even at the top of the hill I 

was on, was diffused by the leaves of the trees, making everything a dim

green. 

     

     From not too far off, I could hear the sound of water falling. The 

air was hot, even though the sun was close to setting, and humid. I 

suddenly realized that I was very warm. The clothes I was wearing were 

extremely... wrong. A pair of jeans, Reeboks, and a UMass sweatshirt 

were meant for New England winters, not this. As I felt the sweat 

beading up on my forehead, I started down the hill, swatting broad-leafed

branches out of my way. All I wanted was a drink of water, and maybe a 

swim. On the way down, I stopped for a second, and stripped off the 

sweatshirt. The name never seemed more appropriate than now, I thought 

and laughed. It didn't look like I would run into anybody on the way, 

or at least not anyone who would expect me to be wearing it.



     The hill was steep, and the branches kept hitting me in the face. 

After a few minutes of toiling down towards what I hoped was water, 

I had been scratched, fallen and rolled a bit, covering my jeans and 

bra in moist dark brown dirt, and sastified the hunger of a few 

mosquitoes. Which I hoped were just carrying spit. 

     

     I had started to long for the place I was used to, a university

campus smothered in cement, and crisscrossed with orderly paths leading 

to brick or even more cement. The university loved cement. It was 

relatively cheap, could be used in many civil projects, and the color 

blended with any part of the campus. That's what happens when you go to 

a state university, no Victorian brick buildings covered in ivy, with stately

white columns holding up the roof. Right now, as I brushed another 

branch aside, ivy could stay out of the picture. 



     The sound of water was getting louder... 







At hearing the faint characteristic sound of water rushing, I started 

to stumble down the hill faster. The sun was still going down, casting 

the last of its rays into the sky, making the air slighty less humid. 

The greenness shining down through the tree leaves was fading out... I 

could see the sky was turning from turquiose to purple through the 

breaks in the forest top. 



I brushed some of the dirt off me, and swatted at a lone mosquito that 

was whining near my ear. One thing I wouldn't have to worry about in the 

water was getting sucked dry by these parasites. The hill was slowly 

leveling out, no longer at an angle that made it easier to just give up 

and roll than bother walking upright. The UMass sweatshirt that I had tied 

around my waist bumped against the back of my thighs as I broke into a 

run at the glimpse of light reflecting off water. 



I dodged through the trees, ducking under vines, feeling the air getting 

cooler and cooler with the mist coming off the water. I stopped dead at the 

edge and ripped off the dirt-covered clothes I still had on. Bending 

over, I grabbed each foot and untied my sneakers, dumping them besides the 

clothes. 



No wonder I had heard this at the top of that hill. I was facing pools 

collected in between huge chunks of rock, constantly filling and emptying 

from the force of the falls that started hundreds of feet above my head. 

The air around where the falls hit, the largest pool was filled with what 

looked like fog. Water splashed back up off the rocks at the base. The rocks 

were eroded in places from the action of water flowing over them, resulting 

in tiny pools full of warmer water. It was all perfectly clear, and smelled 

wonderful. I walked down the bank of the river a bit, looking for a place 

where I wouldn't get sucked under. About fifty feet away from my clothes, I 

stepped onto a rock that came up to the ground, and sat down. Sticking a 

foot in, I sighed. Cool. Clean. I slid in, gasping as the water level rose 

up around me. 



Even here, the water was frothy, swirling around me. I took a deep breath 

and dove under, scrubbing the dirt off my skin and shaking my head. Grabbing 

a couple handfuls of sand, I rubbed them against my face. Without a bar of 

Ivory, this would be fine. After getting sufficiently cold, red, and clean, 

I started moving towards the water's edge. As I was paddling towards the 

bank, I caught a flash of movement out of the side of my eye, and turned 

my head a little. I found myself staring into the profile of a leopard that

was taking a drink of its own about twenty feet away from me. 



I felt every drop of blood drain from my face. It felt like it was emptying 

into my feet. My eyes were fixed on it, and I couldn't seem to be able to 

move. Trying to get control, I took a few shallow breaths, then a huge deep 

one, and slipped under the water. Thank god I didn't smoke I thought, looking

up at the light playing over the water's top. As a kid, I had once freaked 

my mother out by holding my breath underwater, seeing how long I could do 

it. I had succeeded in staying under for about two minutes, long enough to 

make her think I had drowned and was stuck underwater. She had dove in after 

me, only for me to come up as she was next to where I was holding onto 

the bottom of the dock. Heh, she was not amused. I could only hope my lung

capacity had grown as I did. This was definitely not the way I ever envisioned

it being tested though. 



My lungs were just starting to burn. I tried to conserve air by not moving 

at all, but it was hard to stay under the water without moving my hands. 

How thirsty could that thing be? Man, I hoped it hadn't decided to go for a 

swim too. Just a little way longer, little while, little... My head felt 

like it was going to explode, filling up with blood. If I didn't come up 

soon, I would just pass out and start inhaling water. My chances were 

probably better if I went up. Thoughts like this were battling in my mind

as I started to black out. Taking my chances, I let myself rise up to the 

surface, taking in a huge gulp of air, surprised by the loud gasp. It was 

gone. Or it was not in that specific spot anyway. 



How stupid I had been. This was not some ideal Garden of Eden. It had its 

predators, tiny as mosquitoes or as large as the overgrown housecat I had 

just encountered. And I had nothing with which to defend myself, or to 

make a weapon with. Being human had some definite drawbacks. Evolving 

from a creature that once had fur, long claws, and large threatening canines,

we were now basically a walking slab of meat. Being an anthropology major 

had taught me a few things about making arrow and spear heads out of rock, 

but I never had a chance to actually practice what had been diagramed in my 

books. I guess this was going to be real learning experience, if I survived 

it anyway. 



I pulled myself up onto the rock, and just lay there for a second. Looking 

up at the open sky, I knew pretty soon I would have to find somewhere to 

hide from the even bigger beasts that came out at night to hunt. It was not 

an appealing prospect to spend the night in a tree. Maybe if I could get a 

fire going, I could stay on the ground at least for part of the night.  I 

scrambled up and went over to my clothes. Picking them up, I sniffed them. 

Phew. No laundromat around here though. I went over to the edge again and 

swished them around in the water. 

The sweatshirt would take a long time to dry but I didn't see myself wearing 

it anytime soon. I grabbed the wet jeans at the knees, where they had worn 

holes and ripped. Shorts would be a lot cooler. I put on the wet bra and 

shorts and turned towards the trees. 



About an hour later, I had cleared out a small area of leaves and sticks, 

beneath a large climbable tree, and had a tiny fire burning. The friction

way of starting a fire was definitely not as easy as my Girl Scout leaders

had told me. Matter of fact, I think they used balsa wood. No fair. But as 

I fed in larger sticks, making sparks fly up, I was sastified. By the time

the moon had risen, it was a very bright blaze. I had gathered more wood 

to keep feeding it in a pile next to me. I sat with my hands around my 

knees, looking fearfully out beyond the light the flames cast. I kept 

hearing weird cries of animals, probably monkeys. At least if they were 

making noise, I knew where they were. 



The moon seemed unusually bright, and the stars looked like they were 

barely above the trees. I could see the craters and "lakes" on its surface, 

making up the face. The Man in the Moon. Made of cheese. The nursery rhymes 

didn't fit here. I closed my eyes for a second. They were smarting from 

the smoke. I squeezed them hard, getting tears to clear them. I felt myself 

yawn. Suddenly I felt very tired. Well, I couldn't sleep here, it was too 

vulnerable. I got up and stretched, going to the lowest branch of the tree. 

I grabbed it and swung myself up. I hadn't climbed a tree since I was 

thirteen, and had never slept in one. How did you keep from falling out? 

Hmmm. I moved up higher into it, settling into a spot where two limbs meet.

Closing my eyes, I prepared for an uncomfortable night. Before long, I 

didn't notice the cramped way I was feeling. 



Just a little bit before dawn, I woke up, shivering. I wished my sweatshirt 

was dry. Too bad if I put it on now, I'd only be colder in a few minutes. 

I crossed my arms over my chest, and rubbed my arms. Couple hours from now, 

the sun would make this warm again. I was probably cold from my metabolism 

slowing down. As I sat in the tree looking out over the view I began to 

get warm again, and felt myself falling back asleep. 



I woke up with the sun shining down onto my face, the tree swaying a little

in the breeze. My neck felt like it had been bent at a ninety degree angle 

all night. It probably had been actually. I twisted my head around to meet 

my shoulder, pressing my ear to it, then switched sides. After hearing a 

tiny crack, I grinned. Much better, I muttered. I looked down at the 

remains of the fire. Just a bunch of charred wood, with some ashes around it. 

Enough to keep me safe though. I stretched out my legs to get down, and 

swung around so that I was hanging from all fours from the low branch. That's

when I heard a "snap". Very faint. I looked around me to see myself looking

at a person. Lots of persons actually. Oh my, I whispered. Problem. A big 

one. They didn't look angry, but those spears and bows and arrows looked 

like they could be painful. One stepped up to the tree I was haphazardly

hanging from, and gestured towards the ground. Unfortunately, that seemed

pretty clear. I sighed, and let go, dropping to the ground. I was immediately 

surrounded, and they prodded me to walk in line with them as they started 

off. 



Considering what they were wearing, I felt like I was dressed for the North

Pole. Loincloths and bead necklaces, with leather thongs around their 

ankles and wrists was the extent of their clothing. Not that they were 

carrying any extra poundage that required camouflage. I looked ahead of 

me at the man walking stoically ahead, keeping time with his spear. His

leg muscles were highly defined. And they went all the way up to... I 

coughed, smiling. Too bad some guys at UMass didn't go for loincloths. 

The men ranged in height from about 5'8'' to 6'0, having shoulder-length

hair that was a deep black, and brown skin that had a golden tinge. The 

youngest looked about sixteen, the oldest, thirty. Wherever their destination

was, I figured the rest of the people, including the older men and the 

women, were waiting. Maybe they had gone out to do a little hunting, and... 

and... Oh no! Nah, that was ridiculous. If they were cannibals, I don't think 

they would be letting me walk freely with them. I would probably be trussed 

up like a Thanksgiving turkey instead. Least that was what I reassured 

myself. 



We were now on a barely visible path, walking north. We were walking roughly

along the river, I could still hear it burbling somewhere beside us. Why I 

was bothering to keep track, I didn't know. It wasn't like I had a house or 

camp to return to where I was before. Just my sweatshirt and sneakers. And 

I didn't think I could survive for long here by myself. But maybe my chances 

in the woods were better than whatever was awaiting me at their camp. I 

wasn't sure. If I was going to make a run for it, now wouldn't be the best 

time. I didn't know the area, they did. I didn't have anything to defend 

myself with, they could poke me full of more holes than a colander. They 

also outnumbered me and could also undoubtedly run a hell of a lot faster. 

I resigned myself to going wherever they were going. Later tonight, when 

everybody was asleep, or at least almost everybody was, I would take off it 

it looked bad. 



A few more miles later, my nose picked up the smell of wood smoke, and 

meat cooking. I hadn't realized how hungry I had been until my mouth 

started watering. Hmm, maybe they'd feed me. Or eat me....  









At the smell of wood smoke mixed with the smell of meat cooking,

thoughts of hot, succulent, juicy, tender flesh filling my mouth 

ran through my head. Unfortunately, this reminded me they might be 

thinking the same thing, except perhaps I'd be the main course. Talk 

about losing your appetite. I turned my head to look into the woods 

again longingly. Least the animals in there had low IQs... 



The path here was more obvious, having branches leading off, the soil 

tramped down. Through the trees, I saw something yellow. Thatched huts. 

We turned into the large clearing, the men in front of me being greeted 

by women and children. I was stopped near the huge firepit in the center, 

with the huts in a circle all around me. The others came up to me, emerging 

from under the shaded roofs extending out over the doors. 



The women kept lifting up my hair and smelling it, and poking my arms. I 

guess my light hair and skin were an oddity. I stared back at them as much 

as they looked at me. One woman was so close to me I could feel her body heat. 

I looked at her in return. She had deep brown eyes, so dark they were like 

earth after a rain storm, black, ancient. The wisdom I saw in them contrasted 

with the youth of her body... She wore nothing over her breasts, instead 

just a simple belt of green plants, plaited together, around her waist and 

between her legs, fronds hanging down over her thighs. She also wore beads, 

these looped around her ankles, white and tiny, they looked almost like 

pearls. Her hair was damp, clinging to her shoulders as she bent her head 

to look at me more closely. I could see amusement in her eyes. She probably

thought I was very brash. 



Apparently living here didn't result in the sad, stressed, tired faces 

that I saw constantly at school. I didn't believe there was anyone at college 

that was taking classes just for the learning experience. Instead, it was 

to further their career goals. If they were lucky, it was in a field they 

loved or liked, but more often than not, it was a major in which they would 

just get a high-paying job when they graduated. Work in order to play. 

Reading hundreds of pages a week, if they kept up. Conversation over meals 

was of the latest test failed or passed, homeworks done or behind in, 

professor's antics.  Sometimes the whole thing got to me. The drive to get 

A's, the complaints about failures, the cramming, the worrying about grades. 

Once in a while, I would look around and think it was all ridiculous. Look 

how far we had come, Western civilization, poor students going insane to 

guarantee themselves a good living. Maybe as good as their parents. It was 

all crazy. But it didn't matter now. I really couldn't think of the 

university here. It was too strange... 



I looked down suddenly as I felt someone grab my leg in a sweaty sticky 

grasp. Into the face of a tiny child, who looked up at me, his eyes huge.

He swayed on his short stubby legs, and dug his nails into my skin. I 

grimaced, and bent down. Prying off his fingers, I gently sat him down 

on the ground and stared sternly at him. He looked bewildered... I stuck 

my tongue out then smiled. I could tell he was thinking I was insane. 

I was beginning to think I was too. Playing with a baby, in a village in 

what I thought was the tropical forest surrounding the Amazon, captured

by a people who I didn't understand. I had no idea if I would survive 

the night and here I was, smiling at a kid sitting in the dirt. As I 

came out of my own thoughts, I noticed the women were smiling at me. 

Behind them, a few men grinned too, laughing and sticking their tongues

out at each other. They thought it was hilarious, all of them. I don't think

I had ever been so relieved in my life. Or tired and hungry. I sat down on 

a log behind me, and put my head in my arms. I didn't care if they got 

upset, I was too sore and irritable to care. 



I felt someone grabbing my arms. Yes, so I had been wrong. Here I went to 

get perforated, baked, and chopped up. Oh well, at least I'd get to sleep

after it all. I opened my eyes, to see two women smiling at me, trying to 

get me to stand up. I reluctantly got up and let them walk me towards a

hut on the other side of the fire pit. Yep, food processor time. But why 

were they smiling?



We came to the entrance of the thatched shelter, and they bent down a little

to avoid hitting their heads. Ducking my head, I followed them in. Once 

inside, I looked around. It was almost totally dark inside so it took a 

few seconds for my eyes to get used to the light. As the light got brighter, 

I noticed there were hammocks hanging limply from the poles that held up 

the roof, swaying a little in the breeze from the door. They were made of 

net, the strands woven from some kind of plants. Beyond the hammocks, which 

I was tempted to get into, the floor was simply dirt, packed down hard from 

the feet that had passed over it. There was a rack on the wall, near the 

door, holding up herbs that dried out of reach of rain. Other than a few 

wooden containers that lay along the base of the wall, there wasn't much 

else. I looked around for my guardians. They were sitting on some grass 

mats, over on the other side. As I looked at them, I noticed they were 

very self-absorbed, talking to each other excitedly. I thought of running, 

but was unsure. I turned back to look at the door, when I heard one of 

them raise her voice. Startled, I jumped, to see her only gesturing for me 

to come to her. Well, if I was wanted dead, they wouldn't have left 

me to them. Or let me walk around freely. Gradually it dawned on me that 

I would be left to live, and that they didn't mean to hurt me. What then? 



As I approached, they rose to their feet. Nervously I noticed they were 

looking intently at my clothes. Now what? Next to them, I suddenly realized

what was going to happen, and turned around, to run out. No way, I was not 

going to get stripped. I couldn't see myself wearing just a few leaves. 

Despite my protesting and thrashing around, in the matter of a minute, I was

naked, trying to cover myself from the sight of the others that had gathered 

at the door, curious to see what all the yelling was about. I blushed, 

embarassed and pissed off. I bent down, pushing my way to my clothes that 

had been trampled on the floor. One of the women laughed and grabbed me, 

the other grabbed the clothes and run outside with them. This was not turning

out well. 



"Arrrrrrgh!" I yelled, and stamped my foot in sheer frustration. I swore 

and stomped to the door, trying to ignore the giggles and eyes. I looked 

out, and saw the woman who had taken my shorts and bra toss them casually 

into the coals. Within seconds, smoke rose up and I smelled the end of my 

modesty. Great, modern bra burning (Well, I suppose they were pretty close 

to hippies, minus the Birkenstocks). I went and sat down in a hammock, 

carefully keeping my eyes on the floor. Pretty soon, I stopped hearing 

whispering and looked up to see I was alone. 



Alone. I leaned back into the hammock, stretching out. I no longer 

thought of escape. The forest was undoubtedly more dangerous than these 

people were. Even though they burned my bra... I laughed to myself. As I 

looked up at the underside of the thatch, and the tiny chinks in it that 

let in the diffused sunlight, I felt my thoughts slowing down, and my

eyes closing. Small sounds from outside filtered into my consciousness, 

but I ignored them and soon was in a deep sleep. No dreams during this 

one, I slept like the dead. 



And as long I realized. Opening my eyes, I sat up, sure I'd heard my alarm 

go off. It had! I sat in my bed, in my dorm room, with my quilt tossed 

around me, dressed in my nightshirt. I rubbed my eyes, not sure this was 

real. The alarm was still buzzing. I turned the clock around, watching the 

dial turning smoothly, unwinding. I pushed in the alarm, shutting it off. 

It was Sunday, I must have set it last night for some stupid reason. Oh 

well, I had enough time to go back to sleep. Nothing due Monday, so why get

up early. I pulled the comforter back up, and settled my head into the 

pillow. What had I been dreaming? Damn, I couldn't remember! Before long, I 

fell back into that grey area where you weren't quite asleep, then nothing. 

Just before I went out, for some reason I felt like the bed was falling 

out from under me, dropping out and down, swirling away into nothingness, 

total blackness broken only by the flashes of color from dreams. 







I rolled over, feeling the net of the hammock come unstuck from my bare

skin. I reached down, rubbing the place where I had a copy of the 

pattern impressed, bright red. Closing my eyes again, I realized it was 

hopeless. I was up. I sighed, and sat up. Swinging my feet around, I 

jumped to the floor. Outside the door, twilight was falling. I must have

slept forever... Going to the door, I saw people sitting around the 

flames, their faces painted a flickering orange. The sky had turned a deep 

blue, except for the bottom towards the earth, which was still a fading red

and orange from the setting sun. Far above my head, a few of the brightest 

stars had come out. Venus, cold blue white, stared down from her throne. I 

smelled meat and something else cooking, as the wind blew the smoke towards 

me standing in the doorway. 



At the twisting and growling of my stomach, I felt myself going up to the 

foot of the fire. I sat down next to a man who was busily eating the meat 

off a large bone, ripping off bits with his teeth. It smelled delicious. 

Even the grease on his hands looked appetizing. He looked up, noticing I 

was blankly staring at the meat he held in his hands. Keeping my eye, he 

turned around, and pointed towards the other side of the fire. I followed 

his finger, to see where some indeterminate animal was roasting, suspended

over the fire on a green wood frame. People had gathered around it, and 

one at a time reached to it, taking what they wanted. I nodded, smiling, 

and got up. Before long, I had eaten enough so that the mere thought of 

food made my eyes cross. I went and sat under a tree at the edge of the 

clearing, to let my stomach relax. Now I remembered how I felt when I left 

my grandmother's every Thanksgiving. I vaguely wondered what that had been 

that I had eagerly eaten. Maybe it was better not to know until later. 



I lay at the tree's base, watching mothers play with children, children 

lightly fighting with each other, and men doing the male-bonding thing, 

comparing spears and telling stories. As time passed, more and more of 

the crowd gathered around the men telling stories, sitting with their arms

crossed over their knees, staring intently at the teller. He gestured

wildly, waving his hands around, and making extraordinary faces. Curious, 

I got up and sat next to some children to listen. True, I couldn't 

understand the language but it was fun to watch anyway. I could tell what 

was supposed to be the scary bits, and the funny parts, and had the correct

reactions. The night got darker, the sun totally disappearing. The stars 

brightened, and the fire got hotter as people threw more wood on it. The 

smoke kept away the mosquitoes quite well, I was happy to discover. The 

stories ended, and some people drifted off towards the huts, fuzzy shapes 

off in the darkness. 



Others got up and sat around another figure, who bent over a bowl he held 

in his lap. I rose and went to go see what was going on. Between his legs, 

he held a long hollow reed, like a smaller version of a blow gun. He was 

grinding up something, and mixing it with a powder he poured into the bowl 

from a gourd by his feet. I leaned over the shoulder of a man in front of me. 

The powder was a faint odd shade of green, bits of it were moist, making 

little balls that the man crushed out, grinding them against the side of 

the container. Listening to people talk around me, their voices sounded 

hushed, excited. I was becoming more and more curious to know what it was. 

Was he going to perform a ritual? A religious ceremony? All of these and 

other anthropology catechisms occurred to me, but none of them seemed right. 

I had no idea what he was doing. I guess I'd just have to wait and see. 



People had sat down to wait. I did the same. He reached down and put the 

bowl near the coals, to get it warm and dry it... Then he retrieved a 

small round container that had been next to the gourd by his feet. The 

women in the group moved back to let the men forward, who crowded closer 

to him, and knelt. This was getting more bizarre but it was definitely 

educational. He pulled off the lid and dipped his fingers into the small 

globe. They came out covered with what looked like a thick white paint. 

Which is exactly what it was. He smeared it onto the faces of the men, and 

their bodies, in intricate patterns. When he was done, the men had been 

transformed from ordinary to supernatural looking beings, the firelight 

giving their eyes an eerie glint, and their muscles a higher definition. 

One near me had swirls coming down over his biceps, turning into bold 

stripes that ended at his fingertips, and bars widening and narrowing up 

and down his legs. His hair was pulled back to reveal high cheekbones, 

and a wide sensual mouth. I realized I was staring rather blatantly at 

him when he turned and returned my look. As he looked me over, I remembered

one important fact that had escaped my mind hanging out with 99% naked 

people. I myself was absolutely naked, sitting there with my arms around 

my knees. When our eyes met, I wasn't sure what to do, I felt both 

ashamed and aroused. Looking away seemed the best choice. I felt someone 

poke me from behind. It was the woman who had burned my clothes. She 

had a conspiratorial look in her eyes, and she winked. I couldn't believe 

I had seen that. Must have been a trick of the light. I turned around, 

confused. 



The powder had dried. I watched the older man pull it up and stir it 

experimentally with his finger, and made a sound of sastifaction. It 

had some kind of mildly oily nature that made it leave a residue, but 

I saw some of it get caught in the breeze and mix with the dirt beneath 

his feet. The men were silent but the women chattered happily. Dessert? 

An aphrodesiac? A hallacinogen? More questions but no answers yet... 

The elder got up, and taking a bit of the powder between his thumb and 

forefinger, inserted it into the opening of the reed. The man closest to 

him raised his head, proudly jutting his chin out. I watched as the older 

man put the end of the reed to one of his nostrils, and taking a deep breath, 

expelled it hard. The painted man fell back, landing awkwardly. Two near 

him took him in their arms, as he started to jerkily convulse. This lasted 

about a minute, then he stood, and began to dance, wildly. He circled the 

fire, his eyes crazed. Whatever that powder was, it was powerful. And 

frightening. The women were quiet now, watching as one after the other took

it. I sat at the end, when the last man took it. He came to me next. He 

looked at me quizically, lifting one eyebrow, and the reed in his hand. 

I turned around to see what the women were going to do. They shook their 

heads at my questioning face. I turned back, looking beyond the reed to 

the men who stamped and twisted, illuminated by the fire's light. They 

didn't look real. None of this did. Maybe it was all a dream. So, if it 

was, might as well do the impossible in it. 



I raised my head, and looked into his eyes. I'm not afraid, I said, even

though I knew he couldn't understand my words. Part of me shrank back as 

he put the drug near me but physically I hardened myself for it. The 

reed was smooth, cold. I felt him move slightly as he took a deep breath, 

then felt the warmth of his breath in my lungs, then an explosion. I tasted 

something strange and coppery on my tongue, but didn't comprehend it. 

My body was out of control, I felt my limbs moving spasmodically, dimly aware 

of arms on me. I felt like my mind had been ripped out of my body...and 

saw the forest in front of me suddenly. It was different, dark. The trees 

flashed past me as I ran, leaping over fallen branches. My muscles seemed 

like liquid power, the sheer act of moving was incredibly pleasurable. My 

breath came to me easily, rhythmatically. But the way I moved, the feelings, 

were different. I looked down at myself, and saw paws. Black as space, the 

moonlight shining off the curve up into the leg, into the bunched muscle. 

Panther. Chasing its prey, which ran in front of me, wildly crashing along. 

I could smell the fear coming from it. It was acrid, bright white. It saw 

its death and ran. I had been only pursuing before, but now I hunted. A 

massive gathering and leap, over the stick-like legs jerking, to a throat 

betrayed by a fragile jugular fluttering underneath. A scream resounded in 

my ears but I ignored it as it gradually faded to an imaginary echo. The 

blood, red, hot, bitter flowed into me and I was sastified.  



Somewhere far beneath me, my body rose and began to dance, gesturing to the 

fire, bending to its primal heat. I saw the flickering colors in it, and 

was fascinated by the waves of blue and pure white that moved inside the red. 

The coals, half buried in grey dry ash, looked like magical stones, the 

heat moving across their surface like unearthly water. I danced for them, 

until I fell to my knees in exhaustion. My body had betrayed me but the earth

still accepted me. I curled up into a fetal position, breathing in gasps. 



Someone touched me and I found myself rising into a leap, bound to run. I 

looked into the face of the painted man, who had been the first to take the 

powder. I didn't recognize him, but at his touch, I trembled. His eyes 

darkened, and he reached out again. His hand brushed over my shoulder, almost 

absentmindedly. His pretended distraction was a lie, I could see his tension

reflected in his mouth and body. At his touch to my lips, I froze. 

His hand came away red, shiny in the dying light of the coals. I realized the 

blood in my mouth had been my own, biting my tongue. 

It wasn't bad. I turned and spat into the flames, hearing the hiss, and 

wiped my mouth on my hand. What did he want? His fingers on my lips had felt 

electrifying... I reached up, gingerly feeling my tongue. He mirrored my 

actions, putting his finger between his lips and tasting my blood. I watched 

this, mesmerized. 



He licked his lips, slowly. I never thought that gesture could be extremely 

erotic until now. I could see his lips were tinged red still... I felt 

myself moving closer to him, then tasting his mouth. He put his arms around 

me, pulling me closer and down. Running my hands up his arms, I felt the 

hardness of the muscles under the smooth skin. The dried paint was slightly 

rough. I felt it against the back of my neck. I raised myself a bit, enough 

to kiss him, arms running down his body. There is a strange thing when you 

kiss someone, someone who is good at it that is. You lose yourself in it, 

sometimes even more than during the start of sex. Your eyes close. It's pitch 

dark. You wait, anticipating the first touch of lips against yours. They are 

soft, warm, moist. The wetness tastes cool, like a stream on a blisteringly 

hot summer day. You drink it and drink it and you never get enough. You press 

your body against his, opening your mouth to him. More more but you can't get 

close enough. There is only one way to be sastified... I felt him caress my 

breast. The nipple was hard, so I felt every nuace of his fingertip. It 

slowly circled, then he lightly pinched the tip. I groaned, feeling it like 

a hot bruise between my legs. 



I could feel him, hard, pressing against me. Urgent purpose, so serious. 

This was truly something to be serious about, the search for pleasure. It 

was a release from the everyday pains of life, taking you out of yourself 

more than any drug could. For some reason, maybe it was the powder, but 

my skin seemed to be more sensitive than normal, and the most bizarre 

thoughts kept occurring to me. As his hair, now released, dragged over my 

breasts, I felt it like a broom, made of the softest bristles. His mouth 

took in a nipple, sucking on it, flicking his tongue over it, lightly 

biting. Ah... I moaned, stretching my body out. The dirt was cold, rough 

against my back, making his skin seem more silkily warm. He had removed 

his cloth. I closed my hand around him, surprised at the heat. The skin was 

as soft as the inside of a lip. At the same time I touched him, he ran a 

finger into me, his thumb going between the lips, to the top. The combined 

feel of his teeth on my nipple, and his hand touching me made me inhale 

sharply. He found the wetness in me, drawing it out, caressing. His hand 

began to move faster, freed by the slickness. I felt open, very warm. My 

legs felt sluggish, but my heart was beating fast. The pulse at my neck 

attracted his attention, as he bent to it and bit lightly. 



My hips rose to him uncontrollably, moving in time to his demands. I gasped 

in time to the too brief movements of his thumb over my clitoris... But 

suddenly it became exactly right. I anticipated each stroke in my mind, 

feeling it building up. The fragile link to the climax grew stronger, and I 

knew it was inevitable. Just as I arched to him, he moved from above me to 

between my legs, pulling his hand away. The fever of my movements slowed, 

and I despaired at the lose of what had been so close. He surprised me  

by sliding his legs between mine, spreading my legs apart and moving up and 

into me. His fullness made me realize how empty I had been before, not 

knowing. He slipped in deeper, going exquisitely slow... Moving 

through the tightness. I ran my hands up his back, resting them on his 

shoulderblades, and raised my legs so that my feet came to his calves. 

Feeling his muscles bunch beneath my hands, and his hips begin to move 

against mine, I was silent. Only our breathing broke the quiet of the night 

beside the whispering coals, falling in on themselves. As the wind moved

the ashes, and blew the coals into a temporary glorious brightness, we made 

love. Connected to him, I imagined our blood flowing together. Back 

and forth from him to me, as he slid in and out again and again. I ran my 

hand under his soft hair, letting it run over my hand like water, turning 

to kiss his mouth again. He raised his head from against my neck, stroking 

my hair, and returning the kiss. As we moved against each other, I felt 

his breath in my mouth. Warm and sweet. I breathed it in, and felt his 

lips moving away as he raised himselves up onto his arms and looked down 

at me. 



Above his head, the waning moon looked down voyeuristically. His eyes were 

black, shining only in the silvery blue light that fell down onto the 

clearing. I lifted my hands to touch his chest, running my fingers over

his nipples. Dark brown circles on a field with a coppery sheen, moistened 

by his sweat. I stroked them, watching his eyes half close. His breathing 

was deepening. His hair, long black sheafs, slid over his shoulders as 

he bent forward and back. The moon's glowing whiteness shone down... I looked 

up at it, beyond him. His movements kept me there only. The orgasm was 

very close, but I continued to stare at the sterile silver lakes and 

mountains so many miles away. I drew in a deep breath, feeling the heat 

opening me up again, losing my mind for that brief moment. His cry was 

sharp... I heard it, deaf to my own. 



Winding down, he leaned down to me, whispering something I couldn't know,

and kissing me gently. I closed my eyes, feeling my heart move in time 

with his, as he pressed against my chest. It was all drifting off again, 

falling away, to blackness. Soft fields of nothingness, that reached out 

to me. 



I opened my eyes. I was looking up at a bare white ceiling, broken by the 

fixture of the plainly functional flouresecent the University had 

installed. It was over, and I remembered. Gathering up the energy, I sat up. 

The sun was rising outside, over the bare trees of Sylvan. The leaves had 

drifted down, littering the ground with peels of orange, rust, and red. The 

sky was covered by heavy sullen-looking fall clouds. I felt a wetness in my 

eyes that beaded into a tear that fell from my cheek to the comforter. 

I looked down to watch it land, soaking slowly into the comforter. As 

my eyes moved over the comforter, I felt my lips turn up into a smile. 

On the comforter's cotton surface lay a single leaf, such a bright green 

it looked like an emerald jewel in that dull dorm room. Picking it up, 

I put it on the bedside table, and got up for the shower. Another day, 

another class....





                              ----The End----  

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