2/25/11 To slumber

This came from a dream I had last night. In the dream I was marrying somebody besides my fiance. I told the girl she wasn't my fiance and the dream fell apart from there. But the rest of the dream is where this came from.

I was awoken too early.

I was incomplete.

I was not ready.

I remembered little from waking up.

I felt the rain.

Rain. It was cold.

I heard the wind.

It was loud.

The wind bombarded my ears.

It scared me.

I felt my wrapping being torn from my atrophied body.

Those who woke me from my slumber tried to be gentle.

Three hundred years was a long time to be resting. Learning. Preparing for this.

What was this?

I found out.

Three hundred years ago I was wrapped in gauze and buried eight feet under gravel and dirt and flowers and strange herbs. The smells of the flowers and herbs permeated my wrappings but were no longer present in the soil from which I was resurrected.

“Wake up.” The voice said.

My eyes failed to open.

“Is he blind?” A second voice said. The sound of the second voice was much younger than the first voice.

“No. Wipe his eyes clean.”

Cold water splashed on my eyes. I felt the gunk and grime of three hundred years of sleep wash off.

“Wake up, the demons are coming, we need your help.”