Showing posts with label creative writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creative writing. Show all posts

Tuesday, 22 September 2015

I Dream of Butterflies

I was afflicted by one of my butterfly dreams again last night.

It's an odd sort of thing to be afflicted with, but it is true to say that these days, I have recurring dreams involving flutterers. I swear to god, I've seen more of them while resting in the Halls of Morpheus than I have when I'm awake this year. Butterflies. Glorious butterflies.

The pattern is always the same. The dream will be wending it's often rather mundanely surreal course through my brain, when unrelated to any of the action at all, I'll see a butterfly somewhere.

Last night, it was in the clothes department of a John Lewis type store. For some reason, after every rail of clothing, there would be a sort of wooded alcove - !!! - and within one of these alcoves, there was the largest speckled wood butterfly I'd ever seen, sat there, wings half open with an smaller, extra set poised at a steeper angle.

Next to it, sat an even larger one, motionless as statues of dryads, unaffected by the Inception projections parading around the shop floor. Except when I tried to take a photograph, at which point they waited until just before the camera came into focus before fluttering off into the pink flowered hedge.

Then there were red admirals the size of my hand, outstretched, beautiful, painted like icons onto a tree stump. Neon green brimstones. A swallow tail basking in the sun mysteriously shining as the scene shifted to a Byron-esque river bank overlooking waters full of silvery glinting trout.

That was just the ordinary species. My dreamscape created exotics too, butterflies the like of the birds of paradise of Borneo and Sumatra. Purple forktails with streamers a foot long, golden peacocks, emerald fancies, fancied starstreaks.



None of them would allow me to take a photograph. The only way I can prove to you these species exist is to tell you about them.

But it was a more non-descript species that was the oddes. Violet-grey in colour, wren sized and furry of body and wing, it decided that the best thing to do everytime I raised my camera was to fly into my face, and settle upon my lips, fluttering its wings against my face.

What nectar, pray tell me, would it find there?

Enjoy the nature of your dreams.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 23.09.15