autotelic, autistic, assonance-hole©.

She Who Dreams (roleplay, CoE, deity origination alternarrative)

*~The peaceful smile of the woman before you is at once calming and a curiosity; her normally olive eyes are transmuted in this moment, wreathed in what appears to be flame. Regardless, she is serene, somehow ethereal and earthy all at once… a paradox. She nods and gestures to the thick pillow on her left.~ *

“Welcome, friend,” the alto voice murmurs softly; “I understand you wish to hear the tale of She Who Dreams.”

Taking your silence for agreement, she places her hands carefully upon her knees. An observer might note with mild amusement that the position of her seating makes her look a bit like a triangle – a three-sided form, with her head as the apex.

She catches your eyes and it seems the sounds in the room disappear; or perhaps it is that your hearing has gotten better? No, it must be the quiet of this place; after all, you’ve been listening to the cricket in the corner preparing for his solo since you walked in… though now that you focus on it, the skittering about of the little insect seems impossibly fascinating.

Just as you feel yourself shifting your attention completely away, the woman seated before you begins speaking. It is a smooth, comforting sound in which the concepts that she speaks of almost seem to float. They come to you easily, and embed themselves in your mind like a droplet returning to the ocean. You focus on the sound of her voice as her invocation mantra ends and seamlessly blends into the tale requested:

“On the first day, there was only She, Herself, who slept wrapped in the wisps of Her dreaming. Where She came from, how She first came to know Herself as ‘being’, and what caused Her to awaken are questions only the wind can answer… awaken She did.

Once she did, she instantly came to know the seed of all mysteries – She perceived Herself as distinct, apart, separate, and alone.

Realizing the nature of awakening, She was eager to share the experience. So, She returned to The Dreaming; but this time, She used her knowledge of awakening to allow the creations of Her mind to spill forth into being; an explosive, manifold brilliance in which concepts of distance and closeness were first created, realized, and named.

As she reveled in the act of creation, an intricate universe expanded and rushed into the silent, cold emptiness; blazing hot, it bucked and flared further and further afield. Soon, despite Her own knowing of The Dream, this wild existence, layered in complexity, was so vast that it seemed exciting and new… even to Her.

And it made Her smile.

She spent aeons walking among it all, putting names to her first, transcendent creations. As she did, the labels that divide “this” from “that” gradually resolved themselves into concepts of astronomy, cosmology, physics, and the language of these things was mathematics.

She contemplated it as it rested like a gem before her; this incredible system of complexity within which so many humble things dwell. Then, gently, She swept it aside as complete. The naming of a thing and the summoning of a thing are inextricably linked. To contemplate a thing is to seek a name. To name a thing is to claim knowledge of it. To know a thing is to access its intrinsic power. To access intrinsic power is to find transcendence, as all knowledge is change and all change is eventually transcendent.

And it made Her smile.

As She completed this discovery and naming journey, She noticed the stray wisps of energy and miasma floating around and nestling the new creations. She moved to gather it together and was surprised to see the seemingly directed manner of the energies; they were difficult to grasp, impossible to name, therefore, to summon.

What new thing, this? She remembered the concept of ‘other’ and felt the tug of the attraction – could this be an ‘other’? Moreover, could it be possible to create beings such as Herself? ‘Other’ but still, familiar?

And it made Her smile.

With an eagerness that made the work of the preceding aeons pale by comparison, she returned to The Dreaming. Nestled among the shimmering lights of the cosmos, She gathered together the strands of concepts and contemplation on Herself and the notion of an ‘other’, and channeled them through a carefully held skein of wisping energy. The meeting and melding of these slowly coalesced and cooled, leaving behind a perfect sphere in which shifting energies ebbed, flowed, gathered, rested, and played.

And it made Her smile.

This grand delight drifted outward from Her and entwined with the swirling globe; it flared with an intense heat that immediately consumed the sphere but oddly, did not destroy it. She laughed her pleasure with this and the flaming sphere drifted like a mote upon the breeze, until it hung in the space before Her, sparkling as it burned with the secret fire; that which nourishes change and compels transcendence.

And it made Her smile.

Reaching out, She pulled more of these undulating energies into Her hand; carefully infusing them. This time, she played with the energies as they collided, careened, and combined. The lush gem resulting from Her second effort was an orb of greens and blues cloaked in intermittent trails and puffs of whiteness. She moved around it slowly, savoring the eddying of shapes and the variations of tones and topography.

And it made Her smile.

She placed the second sphere by the first, only to have it immediately consumed by the intense light and then, searing flame, leaving only a streak of vapor and ash to indicate it had ever existed.

And it made Her sad.

It was then that She realized, the need for an ‘other’ was more than just the selfish desire to see and be seen, share and having sharing. She needed an ‘other’ to consider these things and to protect them from the destruction that often comes with creativity. In that moment, She knew it would be impossible to know Herself from outside herself. That study of The Dreaming was exclusionary to the dreamer.

And it made Her sad.

She once more slept. Aeons again passed. The energies and first creations jumbled along, the dictates of their naming setting them upon a course that even they could not know until the moment of interaction with an ‘other’ or an event.

But the tears of Her sadness, freely wept into the universe, coalesced. And, eventually, as do all things, they too, changed. They awakened.

They found themselves apart, and alone, existing, and they were afraid. Scattering, they drew trails of energy and debris in their collective wakes; but it was the realization by each of the truth that is infinity that drew them back together. The silent scream of existential fear drew them back and they collapsed together, shuddering, but when they arose? They arose as one, the avatar of abandonment, apartness, aloneness, and angry for it, a dark reflection of She Who Dreams, cooling in the depths of space.

Knowing itself apart, it did not seek to wake the creator. Nor did it look to Her for definition, meaning, and purpose. Indeed, its very existence was defined at birth, by its circumstances, its crisis, and the decision made by its aspects.

The Avatar named itself for what it perceived itself to be – a concept of non-existence and those dark dreams that so often are found there; thus was the eternal conflict between The One and an other born… a dichotomy that beleaguers and betrays everything with which it comes into contact and has done from that day to this. The contemplation pulled to itself a skein of energies from which The Avatar created its own sphere – a dark, empty, cold rock punctuated by the apathy of its maker.

As a manifestation of its alienation, it is a beautiful thing, in so far as cold, distant, dead things may be beautiful. The Avatar named its creation and in that moment, realized the power of naming as it simultaneously named itself: Luna.

Deep within The Dreaming, She knew of it all.

And it made Her sad.

For the sense of loss and the loving upon which it was based, Her mind splintered and birthed an alter-being, Her creative force aspect, to be Luna’s deliverer and redeemer; he was to be a peace giver, a soother of pains caused during Luna’s involuntary solitude.

She named him “Eao” (pronounced “ay-oh”) and crafted for him a new sphere of the same swirled energies. He gleefully exulted over the gift and immediately named it “Elyria”, saying that the contemplation of the sphere ‘made lyrical music’ in his mind.

She intended to entice him with Luna in hope of reconciling but, upon observing his adoration of the pale blue sphere and remembering Her own delight in her earlier creative works, fell in love with him Herself.

Regrettably, her adoration of Eao caused her to abandon Luna once again to her cold, dead planet. She and Eao played upon the surface of the pale blue sphere of Elyria as it twirled slowly and at safe distance from its fiery, older, sister sun.

Their play was as potent as it was plentiful; soon enough, the twins Terin and Eosaemus (pronounced “O-sey-amus”) were born.

Under the parents tutelage, each soon took responsibility for the maintenance of the spheres basic systems; Terin preferred the ground and its many forms, while Eosaemus adored the swelling, shifting masses that flowed over the world and worked in conjunction with the ground.

With concepts of family, fealty, and faithfulness evident, it was not long before She began to play with less sophisticated versions of an ‘other’ to provide her family with the same gift of benevolence and adoration She enjoyed in them. They each took solemn oaths of devotion and care; for Elyria, for its eternal generations of flora, fauna, and any who might one day arise to follow.

They named themselves as gatekeepers; holding the keys of all life and reality. In the archaic languages this resulted in their being called ‘The Qindred’ or “The Qi”.

Regardless the many names since, all agree on the foundation tenet – they swore devotion and care for all things. So long as That-Which-Is remains, The Qi and their descendants will remain and will strive and aspire to provide and sustain a place for all.”

The wreath of flame slowly dissipates from the woman’s eyes as the tale comes to its end. The woman speaks to you no less kindly, but it is clear that she is deeply exhausted. She waves away the page briefly to speak to you:

“The oath which binds us to The Qindred is the same which binds us to one another; we are each a servant of the secret fire. If for no other reason, than that we each burn with the same sliver of that first and most brilliant light; but also because it is our duty in this life to reflect the light so freely given us. It is our duty to She Who Dreams as well as to one another.

As a revered teacher and former leader of our order once said,

‘In all the places, there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night, when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled and still love this beautiful place. Thus, you are never alone. You will never be alone. Therefore, be just and deal kindly with others, for the dead are not altogether powerless, and regardless all play of appearances, we are, in truth, one flame, carried within, a precious ember.

Do you see?”

With a graceful motion, the woman rises and accompanies you to the chamber exit. As the page walks you to the courtyard, you cannot help but wonder, what other tales might this scion utter, were she able?