Nightmares

I am studying H.P. Lovecraft. I for some reason have a special edition of At the Mountains of Madness which is an ex-boyfriend’s who I know wants back, however during some strange demonic panic upon falling asleep years ago, when not even any prayer I then knew alleviated the horror, an image of the book cover came into mind, and relieved me. I therefore have no plans to return it, and have since had a strange infinity toward Lovecraft, though I have never read that book, nor any of his other works. 

But I took out one of his books that is a collection of stories from the library, and his timeline is sublime, mundane, fantastical, and tragic. And while I knew instinctively that there was something remarkable about him, I am now certain he was a genius in an age where intellect didn't matter, and an alcoholic in an age when treatment was punishment. He lived a hard, though productive life, where he experienced much love and hatred from the public and his peers. I saw that he wrote one of his stories based on a nightmare he had. I felt so inspired that I have decided to post a sample that I was going to submit for a writing program. I got three pages out of the required fifteen before giving up. This was inspired by the most disturbing dream I have ever had. Here it is.

January 30, 2017

Prologue

It was late at night when she went to see the queen, who had been sick. But that was not the reason why she went. Rather, the baroness had been accused of a most serious charge, though she was ostracized before she could be informed of her transgressions.

During an expedition, something went wrong with the navigation, and the ship landed in a territory where there was no letters patent to explore. It was like no-man’s land, and therefore outside of the law. Lady Aria had some explaining to do, but it was as though she had amnesia when she arrived before the queen. All that she could remember was the incredible feeling of loss and rejection when she was removed from the crew, and then when she saw the queen, how much she loved her.

“Did you do it?” asked Queen Amedalia. Seeing the scar over the queen’s right breast, Lady Aria dropped to her knees, overcome by fear for loss of the queen and sadness for herself. 

“I don’t know”. And she meant it. Though she did not know the charge, she really didn’t know if she was guilty. But the way that she was treated by the others, she could only assume she was. Her conscious nagged at her. She knew. She had done it.

Moved by compassion, pity, and mutual love for the baroness, the queen’s eyes softened, and she comforted her, running her hand from the baroness’ hairline, down toward the top of her head. The baroness looked up, backing away slightly. She was sore. There was a bump on her head, but she didn’t know how it got there. “It would be best if you stayed at the auberge tonight, Aria. We will discuss this matter tomorrow.” Aria nodded and rose. 

The queen lowered her face, raising her eyes intently toward her subject. “We will sort this out”, she said, blinking gently. She had always quietly kept a lookout for Aria.

Chapter One

While Aria had the title of baroness, it was because of her affiliation to the Most Ancient and Most Nobel Order of the Rose; she was not married to a man of stature where this title would be inferred upon her. If fact, she was married to no one. It was customary for women of a certain rank to adapt a life of exploration as the Crown rose in power, and to not reside to the comfortable life of matrimony. As a result, Aria had been offered a quarter in the palace, although she was without the royal blood. In a way, she was a true adventurer, and that is why the queen chose her to be second-in-command of the mission. Aria suspected that her crime was more severe not because of its nature, but because of the ranking who committed it.

Aria found her stay at the inn to be comfortable. She was grateful for the queen’s kindness, though the night in a rented bed reminded her of how unstable her life really was. It saddened her to think that she had devoted her life to the Order, and to the Crown, with no certainty that she would have a home at the end of the day. Queen Amedalia was a generous ruler, but she was sick, and it was uncertain if she would make a full recovery. What would become of the baroness, now that her reputation was shattered?

She shook her head back and forth for a couple of seconds. Aria knew that to survive a mission, only full optimism was allowed. Even when off-duty, she had to maintain this mentality. Expeditions could be so uncertain and dangerous, that there was never, in her mind, a moment where she could submit to fearful or defeatist thinking. She was always in training, even when dressing. One way or another, she would have a home, God help her. 

Aria walked toward the palace, and along the way, she crossed paths with Lieutenant Benson. He nodded at her hello, and she found herself in a fit of insecurity. Does he know? Surely he must. Though he did not participate in the excavation on Birtha, bad news travels fast.

“Good morning Lieutenant.” Aria said as professionally as she could amidst a panic.

“Good morning Miss Blakesley.” He replied. While Aria was very careful to be proactive, she at times had trouble not projecting. She remained calm enough to interpret a genuine greeting. Feeling a bit more confident, she walked up to Willowdale Palace. She returned to her quarters, and laid down on the bed. Looking at the cracks on the ceiling, she wondered how she could ask for that to be tended to, given that she might soon be subject to a royal inquiry. Fear of the unknown washed over her again, where would she stay if she becomes banished from her royal family? But she took in a deep breath, and strongly exhaling, sat back up. She looked around the room and decided that it really wasn’t hers, anyway.

Chapter Two

Aria waited to hear from the queen, who decided to live at Stonegate House. She wasn’t sure why she needed to spend the night in the inn, but she never questioned or protested. This, she suspected, was a big reason how she got to be second-in-command. She used to wonder if she would ever become Captain, and she suspected she could, with her discipline, will-power, and guidance from the queen, but now, there might not be a point in aspiring for such ambitions. Even if nothing were to come of this charge, there is a stain that, she was sure, would be permanent. 

Aria’s training kicked back in, and she shook her head back and forth. She was hungry, and was just in time for brunch. Going down to the dining room, the butler welcomed her warmly, “Well Miss Aria, we did not hear you get in last night!” 

“Oh yes, well, no mind then!” That really wasn’t lying…

“A light lunch will be brought to you immediately if you so wish?” 

“Please, Henry. Thank you”.

“Ma’am.” He nodded and turned toward the kitchen.

Gender equality

I have been considering what to write about for my March entry. I have been feeling uninspired, maybe because we are in the dead of winter (With some plus double digits in the middle to late February......). But today I had a really important revelation.

In a city in Australia, they have been making "gender equality" pedestrian walk signals. The person is now a female, noted by the standard skirt that we see for public washrooms. I actually felt offended, but I also know that there is a part of me that is very traditional, and that views women as, let's say, the fairer, sex. So for me, it really seemed like a downgrade, laughable, really.

It really got me into a head space, and I started wondering, why do I believe that women should be on the sidelines? Do I hate my own gender? 

And it hit me, this signage is actually sexist, because it denotes an age where women weren't even allowed to wear pants (so of course, we use the image of a skirt to indicate them).

I don't know any woman who wears dresses or skirts, other than maybe something casual during heatwaves. And I work in an office.

So I, being the know-it-all opinionated control freak that I am, with a side hope for fame through profile views, wrote a comment to the article. Actually, it really inspired me, because I had that "Ah-ha" moment. I typed, they should use breasts instead.

I realized, we ARE supposed to be on the sidelines, because our sexuality places us in a really vulnerable position. Breasts are used as a sex symbol, and in North America (I heard in Europe is more relaxed) it is illegal to even expose them. So what WOULD happen if we used breasts as the distinguishing symbol in society. What would happen? For me, it would remind me that my place is to play second to the man. Maybe I am being sexist, but I think if we called a spade a spade, and used our breasts, instead of some outdated dress, then we would be recognized that by our very nature, women are weaker than men because we can be overcome much more easily, both physically and by our wiring to be nurturing (and therefore more easily manipulated).

But I don't mean to belittle women, because what we lack in physical power, we more than make up for in psychic power, aka intuition. So let's start to level the field that way, instead of some embarrassing outward symbol that really does make us look like we don't belong.