who's reality is it any way

Laying in the sunshine with my eyes closed shadows from the clouds riding dark spots across the lids. The feel of grass soft and ticklish on my legs. On my legs, what a strange sensation indeed. I know this is the dream. It always starts the same. The astonishing feeling of grass upon my legs. I smile at that feeling, at that sensation. I flex the muscles that knot them, feeling their strength, feeling their vitality. Bending them to my chest and straightening them I relish the feel of their movement. I wiggle the toes inside my soft leather boots, point them to the sky.

Then a scream. Loud in the soft silence of the bright day. My eyes pop open, I jump to my feet landing on strong legs that even with the scream echoing in my ears feels like heaven. Quickly turning around I see a young maiden. She is beset by an evil creature. It hovers above her on leathery wings, clawed hands stretching down trying to grasp her slender shoulders. Its humped black back is to me, its focus totally on the tasty morsel it has come upon. My strong legs flex propelling me into a dead run. Reaching over my shoulder I find the pommel of my sword and pull. It whispers of death and pain as it slides from the well worn sheath strapped to my back. Leaping high in the air I swing cutter, my two handed bastard sword, in a great overhead swing. The wind shifts some what and blows across my back bringing my scent to the horrid creatures senses. It spins in mid air, unbelievably quick, and dodges the blow. Landing in a roll I come up in a fighting stance, sword held ready before me. The creature gains altitude rising above my highest swings. Rolling over it tucks its wings in and comes at me in a fast dive clawed hands outstretched, reaching for my throat. Starting in a low swing I spin on the balls of my feet my sword gaining momentum as i go in a complete circle. The creature is fast, I am faster. The sword is called cutter for a reason. It encounters the creatures outstretched clawed hands. Neatly severing them at the wrists, the dangerous appendages falling to the green grass of the field. Dropping onto one knee and rolling the creature goes over my head and drives into the ground hard. The crunch of its breaking leathery wings satisfyingly loud in the morning air. Spinning back I leap high. Cutter held in both hands I drive it point first through the back of this hell spawns head coming out its toothy maw to pin it to the ground. It struggles at first not yet realizing it is dead. I twist opening the wound larger, black blood staining the green grass, burning it with its touch. The struggles slow, then cease as the creature is sent back to the hell it came from. Pulling cutter from the grip of its shattered skull I wipe the toxic blood on one shattered wing. The wind carries the sound of distant wolf howls to my ears. Looking off in the distance I lean my head back. Foot upon the slack body of my adversary I raise my voice to the heavens, howling along with my wolf brethren. Striding to the maiden I sheath cutter on my back in one quick movement, the act done a thousand times and as natural as breathing to me. Reaching down I pull her from the ground where she has fallen. The look of terror still on her face as she eyes both me and the creature, now not sure who to be more afraid of. I look into her eyes and she knows, she has nothing to fear from me. She stands on her tip toes and leans in. her lips puckered she kisses my cheek. My eyes close as her soft red lips touch my skin.



The feeling of standing begins to pass. The feel of a soft bed against my back, shoulders and waist slipping into my awareness. There is no feeling below my waist, it stops at my hips. I know the dream has ended. My eyes flutter open to see my mother leaned in and kissing my cheek. Her soft lips and loving touch has brought me back to reality. The reality where I am a cripple, stuck in a bed by an unfortunate accident this past summer. I look into her eyes as the dreams feelings fade. I can see the sorrow there. See how tired she is. She has given all up for me. Taken care of my every need at the expense of her own needs. not living any more for other than taking care of me. She sees the tear begin to slide down my face as I think of this. she thinks it is for my self when it is for her. She wipes the wetness from my cheek and begins to talk in that cheery way she has when she thinks I am slipping into self pity. As she chats about the day to come she pulls the covers from my body. Lifts me and puts me in the wheel chair set there for me. We go down the hall together, her striding on her working legs and me in my wheeled conveyance. To the kitchen where she makes me breakfast and another long day starts.



Laying in the sunshine with my eyes closed shadows from the clouds riding dark spots across the lids. The feel of grass soft and ticklish on my legs. The dream begins. I smell the fresh grass . Feel the heat of the sun on my body. Off in the distance I hear the howl of wolves floating on the warm breeze. The note in them is one of challenge. Opening my eyes I leap to my feet. Scan the horizon. On a ridge at the edge of the field I see the outline of old grey. As the pack leader he is the only one that has the right to issue such a challenge. He raises his head to the sky and howls. Leaping from the ledge he goes into a loping run, the pack hot on his heels. They cross the field unbelievably fast. Looking as if they were hardly running they eat up the distance. Passing me on both sides i turn and begin to run with them. easily keeping pace with my strong legs we race across the field. Up into the edge of the hills and farther up into the rocky mountains. The miles pass till we near the top. I am side by side with old grey now. Digging in we race each other. Neck and neck we head straight for the edge a cliff that marks the end of the world as we know it. Neither one slowing we approach the edge at a break neck speed. Looking over at my furry friend he looks back at me and I know. he wont stop. Neither will i. at a dead run we reach the cliff edge. Never hesitating we both launch ourselves off into the chasm below. Wind whistling past my ears, empty space below us we sail into nothingness. The ground comes up quickly, the top of a plateau appearing below. Landing hard from the long drop my legs take the shock. I drop into a roll and skid across the rocky ground on my back laughing. Old grey seems to land a little more gracefully. His strong legs soaking up the fall as he leaps high into the air to land next to me. Tongue lolling out of his mouth he smiles at me. The wolf pack is raising their voices to the sky behind us, celebrating a challenge met and over come. Old grey lies beside me and rest his head on my shoulder. I close my eyes and drift off to reality.



Its night, late by the feel. A pale moon light shines through my window creating ghostly shadows from the belongings in my room. The dream fading from my mind I realize there is noise that shouldn’t be there at this hour. A ruckus down stairs, the sound of hurried steps approaching my room. My mother bursts through the door, a wild and panicked look in her eyes. Spinning she tries to slam the door shut behind her. A foot slips into the jamb stopping it. A hard push and it flies open sending my mother across the room to land hard on the floor. Two men are silhouetted in the open door way. A smaller man standing next to a much larger figure. The larger man rushes into the room and grabs my mother. I try to raise up on my arms, to see what madness is going on around me. The large man has my mother now holding her in a rough embrace. The smaller man looks at her, then at me. The look of evil in his eyes rivals anything I have ever seen in my dreams. There is no love in this man, no compassion. He strolls over to my bed and looks down at me. His black beady eyes seeming to take pleasure at my helplessness. He pushes on my forehead forcing me to lie back in the bed. With out a word he slips the pillow from under my head. Looks at it and slowly places it across my face. My world goes black as the softness covers my eyes. Covers my nose and mouth blocking the air from my lungs. At first it is just uncomfortable, this weight upon my face. I reach up and try to remove it but the small man is far stronger than I am. He pushes the pillow tighter against my face. I can hear my mothers whimpers of pain, of anguish at seeing her little boy being smothered. My lungs straining for breath that wont come I begin to black out. The world fading from my mind the last thing I hear is my mother screaming. Loud even through the muffling softness of the pillow.



Laying in the sunshine with my eyes closed shadows from the clouds riding dark spots across the lids. The feel of grass soft and ticklish on my legs. A feeling of dread upon me that shouldn’t be here in my world. Then I hear the scream coming from some where across the field. Jumping to my feet I hear the howls of the wolf pack racing across the green field towards me. Looking in the direction they are running I see a door. A door so out of place in my world. The screams are coming from behind that door, the screams that I know to be my mothers. Springing into a dead run I pull cutter from my back. The wolf pack is all around me now, running with me. Flying across the field I reach the door, never hesitate as I put my shoulder down and burst through it. The splintering wood drowns out the sound of my mothers screams for but a second. I am in my room now. The two men standing over my mother as she screams her last. Turning they see me, a puzzled look upon there face. The wolf pack streams around me as I start toward them, a look of pure hatred in my eyes.



The two doctors walk into the room. Look over the chart of the young man laying under the too white sheets of the hospital bed. His eyes are closed, machines hooked to him beeping in time to his vitals. The doctors softly talk. Talk about how there is nothing physically wrong with the boy other than being crippled. He should be awake, should be alert. Of course after what happened in his room it is probably just as well he is so out of it. The police are baffled. They say it is nothing like they have ever seen. The boy was found comatose like he is now. The mother lay dead on the floor, her neck broken. That in its self isn’t so unusual in the world we live in today. It was the two men that were found in the room with them. or more accurately what was left of them. literally they were torn to pieces, hacked to pieces. The blood thick on the floor showing soft boot prints and the prints of what appear to be wolves leading out the shattered door but never reaching the hallway. With shrugs they set the boys chart down. Guessing no one will ever know the truth about what happened.



Laying in the sunshine with my eyes closed shadows from the clouds riding dark spots across the lids. The feel of grass soft and ticklish on my legs. The feel of the sun hot upon my skin I lay there just enjoying. The sound of my mothers voice softly singing a lullaby she used to sing to me soothes me. I open my eyes and look over at her. She is beautiful, her skin glowing in the brightness of the day. I love her so much and she loves me. We will be together for ever. That is a fact I know deep in my heart and soul. The sound of a lone wolf howl drifts over the field. Turning my head to look I see old grey standing off to the edge issuing his challenge. Turning to see my mother she just smiles at me, giving her consent to go and play. Leaping to my feet I race across the field and join old grey. The wolf pack folds in around us as we race across the ground. The smile on my face and in my heart is true and pure. Life is good here. I think I will stay.



Reality. Its just a word. A concept created by man for man. Civilization pushes their concept of reality on us each and every day. Telling us what is real and what is not. Who is to say for sure though. Is the world this young man lives in any less real than one that he has been told his whole life is real. if I were to squint my eyes and see things just a little differently than society tells me I should am I to be marked as crazy, unstable. To be chastised because I do not conform to the norm. I think the world would be a little better off if each of us were to live in the reality of our choosing instead of the ones forced upon us.

After all. Who’s reality is it any way.