Stormclouds gather

Dreams can change my mood. Dreams can affect my thinking. Dreams have that rare ability to raise my lowered head, my powerless body from the ground. Dreams make me cry or laugh in the mornings; they influence me greatly.

I had a dream yesterday...

Before beginning, start the music below. No, I'm not making it more emotional: this song was the background music of the whole dream (if the embed won't work, try it here, here or google Clint Mansell-Death is the road to awe):

I'm at home. Szentendre, Hungary. Stormclouds are gathering outside. I have  a growing fear about the immense mass of clouds. As they slowly take over the last blue spots of the sky, light diminishes. Wind blows into my face as I close the windows. They are bringing the smell of something... that I'm afraid of. Misi, my brother (he is 12 now) helps me and apparently his happiness won't be bothered by my heavy thoughts on the coming storm. Nor Andris (now 9), who keeps fooling around as he always did. My mom though feels what I feel. We are looking through the window, as the darkness deepens. We are afraid. She says something like 'we can't run away'.

The scene changes. The blanket of the clouds painted by the colors of woe is appears to be broken a bit. Sunbeams punch holes on these massive, gray bodies. I'm looking at a great landscape as I roam through a vast green field. Mountains high as I saw in Georgia and grasslands green as in Hungary, this breathtaking view transforms swiftly, as I'm only a thought which travels through the land. I arrive on the top of a skyscraper. I see a small city below, people walking on the streets and cars passing on the roads. A friend from Eger sits atop, waiting for me. I'm concerned about the storm: the clouds are a mute danger of something none of us want to experience.

'Sit down' she says. My fear grows as I feel something is approaching: it's not the storm itself but something related to it. I know somehow that my brothers are dead now. I still see my mother, this time standing in the field next to our house, eyes full of tears but looking deep into the heart of the clouds. My friend continues. 'You know you gotta jump' she says 'That's the only way of escaping'. I'm heavily disagreeing as we are at a top of a 50 storey building. I throw down a rock which clatters and breaks to pieces as it reaches the ground.

'You never trust yourself, Peter. Jumping is not death. It's trusting yourself.' I'm on the verge of crying as this thing beyond words is approaching me, as it is coming obviously for me.

I jump.

Landing easily, my feet touches the grounds, and bending my knees I get enough power to jump again- but this time to the sky. Am I flying? I... can't. I'm almost reaching her, but I fall back. As my friend looks at my receding silhouette I hear her thoughts.

'You learnt how to fall Peter. Now you know how easy it is to survive. But you won't fly now. Stay on the ground and learn how to fly. That is the real road to awe.'

(...)

My eyes pop out. The music still plays in my head. My eyes are soaked with tears. What was this? My chosen road is sending me an approval message? Or tries to scare me away?

I'm not tired although I was for the previous two months for every morning. My mind is clean as if it was lyed with the liquid of true vision. I dry up my eyes. It has to be cold out there, I'm freezing...

I pull the curtain aside.

Stormclouds are gathering outside. I feel patient as I look at them. As they slowly take over the last blue spots of the sky, light diminishes...

I step to street and wind blows into my face.