Last night I had a dream.
I dreamed of an endless expanse of forest.
A cold rain was falling, the kind that gets into your bones no matter how you try to stay warm. It was a dark rather and forbidding place, this forest. I was lost and alone there.
Here and there I began to notice campfires. I walked to one of the brighter ones and introduced myself to the people gathered around. There were many people there, most talking quietly, a few arguing amongst themselves. Sitting next to a pile of firewood was a storyteller. When she started to speak the group grew silent, fixed on her tale.
I sat and listened as the storyteller spun tale after tale. She told of the adventures of strange people in far off lands. She told of strange creatures and people who do the silliest of things. Some of the tales were funny, some were not, but all taught a lesson.
As I walked from fire to fire I noticed a common thread. Every fire had a storyteller who kept the fire burning and the guests entertained. They all had stories to tell and people were happy to sit with them at the fire and listen in. Some burned brighter and hotter than others, some had a large crowd, some just a few close friends.
Time passed as I walked from fire to fire listening to tales and making new friends.
I started to notice as I was making my rounds some of the fires were slowly dying. The storytellers stoked the fire less often. The crowds at those fires became smaller. Some fires were left unattended completely and slowly burned to coals, perhaps with a few people gathered around the dimming fire waiting for the storyteller to come back.
Here and there a storyteller would announce that the stories were done, put out the fire and move on to new things.
New fires were started, new stories were told. Yet as the older storytellers left I found I could feel the cold a little more, and the lights grew a bit dimmer in the forest as they departed.
As I floated back from the dream to being fully awake It came to me that I should have thanked all the storytellers I had visited for the stories they had told.
To all those who’s fire I have visited, thanks for the tales.
Filed under: World of Warcraft |
Hulan the Holy has a bloglist where in more than 20 or so bloggers have stopped their blogs. It was relatively sad. The majority of them didn’t say goodbye. The blog just got forgotten 😦
To the bloggers that have said their inner most thoughts and loved the game and the community – thanks for saying you appreciate us…your readers.
Thanks for writing a good blog Dechion. It’s clear that you enjoy writing and sharing with us, including your own dreams. While some bloggers do get very discouraged without a single comment, I can only hope they enjoyed blogging while they were there.
*sigh*
Seeya on with the rest of the twitter gang.
Dech that was beautiful.
*sniffle*
Thank you.
What a way with words you have Dech, brilliantly written, and so true!
Beautiful imagery!
Thanks for the kind words folks =)
Very well done, Dechion. I don’t get a lot of comments on my blog, but then again, my blog is really a journal of sorts. If people read and enjoy, great. If not, oh well. I hope to be around for a long time to come, as writing is one of the few things I do really well. Humanity’s greatest gift to this universe is the care and feeding of the written word. The fewer we have crafting fine stories, amusing anecdotes, and just plain-ol’ ego massages, the darker the world is. I’ll greatly miss GLDC and Resto…no one else may leave the blogosphere from here on out.
[…] Posted by Dechion on March 31, 2009 Last night I was once again in the forest. […]
[…] If it wasn’t Blood in the Water he was talking about it might have been this one. Not really seen through a characters eyes, it tells of a dream I had the night Bre, former co-host of the Twisted Nether Blogcast as well as the former author of Gun Lovin Dwarf Chick, announced she was closing down her blog. I called it And the lights grow dimmer. […]