The man, Sorren, had an unusual life. He was a man who could communicate with the world only through his voice and his ears, until the day when his benefactor gave him the gift of reading and writing. While we all have to attain these skills, we mostly accomplish them at a very young age and can really never remember a time when it was not so. Sorren could remember this time. What must that time have been like? To my way of thinking this is what all storytelling tries to do, to imagine a time which never was. Sometimes we are fortunate to have not lived in those times. But there is also a part of us which yearns for those elusive and mysterious experiences. How would we have handled the threats and promises of the day? Would we have been worthy to have our lives recorded? And when we eventually learned to read would we have realized that the world had just changed, that our voice was now more than just a form of communication and of song, that our voice was not a mechanism for utility but rather a window to our soul?
Aristarchus’s Dream of an infinite Dream within a Dream
Aristarchus was and is a dream maker. He is perhaps the greatest dream maker ever to live in this or any other world or in any other universe or universe within universe. There has never been and never will be another dream maker like Aristarchus now or forever into the future. Aristarchus was there to fulfill the very first dream that has ever been; it was a dream of his own, and still he manipulates that dream which is so special to him. It is a special dream that only he knows, but sometimes he lets certain people see just a glimpse before he hides the dream again, and sometimes just a glimpse of Aristarchus’s dream is enough to wake the dreamer into a different part of the dream. And sometimes, the dreamer is even allowed to change the dream of Aristarchus, but the changing of even a small dream can cause reverberations that emanate from an infinite source and are never heard again by the dreamer.
But the dream of Aristarchus is so special because the dream of Aristarchus contains the dream of all and every creature great or small that ever dreams. And so, every dream takes place within the dream of Aristarchus, and even the dreams that are soon forgotten are part of his dream because his dream allows the merging and fusing of many dreams together. As such, the dream of Aristarchus is very special and requires constant attention, so it is rare indeed for Aristarchus to take a holiday. But when he does . . . when he does, all havoc can sometimes be loosed. That is why Aristarchus never goes on holiday, but that does not mean that he does not allow himself a little fun once in a while, or that he does not fall asleep.
Just as a winding road is more joyfully traveled than a straight road that disappears into infinity, a life can be better lived through the vicissitudes of fate than through the fear and certainty of death. And that is why Aristarchus decided to have a dream. It was his dream that the dreamer would wake to the dream of Aristarchus and realize that they were in a dream not of their own making.
When Gabrial and Myn left through the tunnel beneath the lighthouse, Aristarchus went back to his study and closed the door. Rubbing the back of his neck he reflected at how long his dream had become. Every dream has an end, as did his own, but that did not mean that it had to be perfect. He allowed himself a slight smile. Perhaps he could change his dream just a little after all. Then he smiled from ear to ear as he whispered to himself. “Why don’t I let them have it?” he said with joy. “Why not let them all have it?”
So Aristarchus set to work. First he had to remember his own dream so that it did not become inexorably merged with the dream of King Bartholomew, because even though the dream of the King was contained within his own dream, the dream of Bartholomew was unique in a small way. When he examined the King’s dream carefully he realized that other dreams would have to be changed to accomplish his goal because Bartholomew’s dream was entangled with several other dreams including a bishop and a servant and a group of exiled cats and a small boy named Albian. So excited was Aristarchus about his new plan that he completely forgot about the storm outside that he had created, and he nearly blew the lighthouse down from inattention. Then he remembered the pirates on the other side of the wall and he increased the fury of the storm and tossed some lightening around just for drama.
What is it in this strange sky that has me mesmerized?
What is it in this dark sky that howls like a wounded cry?
And yet I find a peace that shimmers in the day and then is lost
I long to hold that peace but at what cost?
Strange sky make my spirit fly
What is it in your strange eyes that has me hypnotized?
What is it your dark eyes that howls like a wounded cry?