On the fall of night and in the depths of sleep came to me a dream.
Slowly walking toward a familiar place, a door made of simple wood, adorned with nothing but only what the poorest worker could afford. I entered this place with no circumstance. It was the home of my kin, a brother, and my father. The sight filled me with despair for, though my own life was not that of a king or even the lowliest royal servant, I had not sunken so far into wanton sadness as I saw there.
Filth lined the halls, dust clung to every surface. Plates of clay stacked high, most untouched by food. My brother and father were laid near, each to a worn cot of wool, and each slumbered not in sleep, but in misery. I approached my brother and inquired how such things could be for when last I saw them; they each were in service to a local governor.
“Brother, father!” I cried.
But no answer came.
“What has happened! Why do you lie in your own filth!” I pleaded further, but only a weary mumble could be heard.
In haste, I rushed to my brother and shook him violently but he only groaned and resisted my touch. They had fallen into such deep melancholy that no manner of shoving and pleading could stir them.
I ran from that place in anger as much as fear. I wondered what manner of terrible things had happened to cause such a desolate state of being. My kin had given up all hope for death. They were reserved to embrace that cold end which no man or woman could ever return from. They were my blood but I was powerless to save them from such agony.
I fell to my knees as I crossed the threshold out of that place. The water of pain fell from my face and splashed into the soft sand that my hands dug into with such force that my fingernails bent backward. I sought to scream out to someone or something but there was nothing and no one. My heart pounded, pinpricks covered my skin, and blood spattered the ground where the skin had broken on my hands.
And I ran. At first, I didn’t know to where so I let my feet run wild in whatever direction they sought of their own will. I ran towards nothing for so long that my breath came shorter and shorter until it was ragged and I was heaving. My lungs burned and my legs trembled but still, I ran. Then, in the distance, a spectacle of blue rose to greet the sky. It was a mighty cathedral, ancient like the stars themselves. Statues of gold lined the walls of all manner of royal beings. Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels, and Guardians stood in eternal watch over the world for untold eons. Some looked to the ground where humans walk in short moments and the gaze of others turned to the sky in judgment of what I could not see. All around the Cathedral of Time were great doors that stood higher than the highest mortal structure. They were of gold like the statues, but also like them, the gold was worn and faded.
I realized this is where my feet had chosen to go and wondered if I had been guided for I knew this place. The burning in my chest eased, the aching in my legs subsided. Whether guided or not, I knew I must go to this new, ancient place and beg an audience with those within.
I came to a door and stopped, transfixed on its magnitude. I want not to touch it in the beginning for I knew not if it was the mortal way but I resolved myself and pressed upon its weight. The door opened as if commanded by my touch with ease. I entered, afraid, confused, but determined. I wanted answers for the injustice wrought upon the world and my kin. Passed the first door, I was in a corridor that expanded to the left and right as far as I could see. Crossing over, I came to a second door that was equal to the first. I pressed on as I had with its brother and it moved with the same ease. Again, I came to another corridor, brother of the first, but its canopy was lower. I passed through the next door and the next, each the same but for a lowered canopy. It was the seventh door that I touched that gave resistance. I propelled myself into the worn door over and over, each time with more energy than the last but it refused to move. I became dismayed and wondered if I should follow the long hall to the left or right but my compunction demanded that I stay.
And I stayed for an age. I screamed at the door, beat on the door, kicked and banged and wept but it would not move. I became old and weary. My hair grew long and white. My skin became paper before my eyes. I ate not, slept not, nor gave in to relief. My clothes disintegrated around me until I was naked and even my shoes became dust on my feet. I thought of my kin and wondered how long ago they had died. I wondered if they had survived their own despair and made their last days more meaningful than mine. I knew they hadn’t. I knew I would join them soon and I longed to see them once more but it was for naught.
In my agony, in my own filth and want for death, I began to sing:
O Michael, O Michael! Come to me that I might see your face!
I found that even in my lowest sorrow, my voice still rang as it had when I was among the living.
O Gabriel, O Gabriel! Come to me that I might see your face!
And the door opened.
Cold air poured out of the opening as the door swung wide and darkness greeted me. I dared not move until I heard a voice that beckoned me inside. The voice was feeble like that of an old man, like what my voice should have been. I stepped forward, first with trepidation then with curiosity. I looked to the ground and saw that just inside the threshold, the floor was like marble in contrast to the sandy ground on which I had lived the lives of ten men. As I moved closer, my eyes looked inside and to the left and I could see a faint reflection of light. I resolved myself once more and stepped fully inside.
And I was renewed.
But I wasn’t who I had been when I entered. No, I was transformed into my younger self. My hair was dark as night, my skin no longer tore like paper and my nakedness was covered with a cloth I did not know of the purest white. My vision was clear, my bones did not ache, and walking towards me was a sight of beautiful horror.
Statues of gold limped after me with horrid groans and whispers. It was as if they were in such pain that they could not speak. There were four of them, each farther from me than the next. Two of them I did not know, but two I knew well. The first was Michael the Archangel, but I recognized him, like his brother behind him, only by his face for his body was mutilated and he stood a full head shorter than me for his legs had been cut at the knee. My dismay was compounded further by what I saw next. The angels, all of them, were cut asunder from shoulder to shoulder, back separated from the front. Where the backs of the angels were, I knew not, but the mangled forms of those once glorious creatures approached me in earnest and stood before me.
I looked into the golden eyes of Michael the Archangel and my stomach became like the abyss. I touched his face, stroked it with my fingers, and felt the rough texture of his form and it was as unto ice. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came forth. His face contorted, his eyes widened, and his body shook violently as if he was trying to scream but no sound could be heard from the once-mighty archangel.
I grasped his face between my hands and pulled it close and again, began to sing:
O, Michael! Mighty Michael! What manner of carnage is this!? Gabriel! Hast thou suffered some great fate!?
A cacophony greeted me that shook my soul. Lighting shook the walls, and words rolled through the air on thunder.
” were the words I heard.
I looked past the angels gathered around me following their gaze into the distance, and there, set into the wall, stood an effigy of incomprehensible magnitude. He was the same form as angels and mortals alike, but his head would have been lost in the clouds had it stood on the earth as I. He was draped in robes of white and a wreath of great vines sat upon his head. In his grip was a staff of pearl, shining white, the head of which look unto a crown of brilliant colors.
Too long, we have tarried.” said the figure.
Michael and his angels turned to face the being that spoke as a mountain falling from heaven and we all watched as he stepped out of his space. The movement sounded like the rushing of a wave crashing on the shore and the step felt as unto an erupting volcano shaking the earth.
It is time!” spoke he again. “Come unto this place and be joined.
Michael turned just his head to me and beckoned with a feeble wave of his gnarled hand. I, and his brethren followed Michael towards he that called us and as I came into the greater height of the Cathedral of Time, I saw three other beings of equal stature to the first. Two were shorter, if only by a head, but nevertheless identical to each other. Their forms were more round, their heads bald and they walked with the same staff in hand as the first. Their robes were of purple and gold and they fell into pace with he that first spoke. Of the fourth, I saw only a glimpse, but he stood tallest of all with robes of satin.
Michael and his equals followed behind The Four, their withered forms barely matching the size of a single foot of their masters. I followed yet further back, having no contemplation of what my eyes beheld.
Along our path, I saw baubles of red lining each side. They followed ahead as far as I could see and arced around the circular form of the Cathedral of Time but for openings in the walls ahead into which The Four disappeared. Michael turned just before he and his kin crossed the threshold. I felt in my soul he wished to speak but could not. I searched his eyes for some implication but I beheld none. Then each of them crossed into the room ahead and were gone.
I held fast for a moment, just outside the doorway through which The Four and the angels had passed. I knew not what I was to do or comprehend. Doubt surfaced for a time but it passed without setting hooks into my mind. I looked to the room behind me and though it was without compare in the entire universe, it was empty and held no use to me. I faced the doorway once more and courage settled in my being and I stepped inside.
And I beheld darkness. Save for the steady red glow of the baubles that flowed inside and formed an appearance before me, nothing assailed my senses as much as the weight of emptiness. I turned to look out through the doorway but it had gone. My eyes returned to the silhouette that was surrounded by the now pulsing sphere of red baubles. I stepped closer in distance and reverie and beheld a figure in the midst of the orbs. I looked closer, daring to wonder who I saw and my eyes shed wonder for terror.
And then I awoke.
