Creature Becomes Creator
Dreamed 2015/2/5 by Wayan
Dream 1: Silky Needs a Key!
I'm living in a big shared house in north-central San Francisco, in Laurel Heights. My cousins and sisters visit, but they go out touring the City so much on their own I barely see them. Feel lonely, bored and left out.
My sister Miriel went out with my girlfriend Silky, who's part unicorn and part krelkin (deer-sized, horsemaned & tailed, gracile as a grayhound; her clever forepaws have opposable thumbs).
I think Miriel and Silky also took our house pet along--a strange creature, a crossbreed between me, Silky, Miriel and a beagle, with unicorn/krelkin traits at both ends but short legs and a long low belly like a dachshund. He may be an animal not a person like krelkins or humans--sadly, he inherited a beagle brain.
But am I really sure he's doggy-dumb? Maybe just the speech center's primitive, not the mind behind it.
I feel a little guilty about Silky. She's always insisted on sticking to her furry form, even in bed with me. She's a werehuman, but won't change. A purist. Wears no clothes, not even ornaments, just her fur. She disdains all that human complication.
But purity has disadvantages. I've never even given her a house key. I have to let her in and out like she's a pet! Yet her forepaws could handle a key even without shifting to human form. Would she be willing to wear it as an anklet or a pendant? If it looked too dog-collary and petlike, I could make a radial pendant more clearly esthetic, that'd hide or carry the key. Or she could just hide it somewhere she can climb but a human burglar couldn't easily--up a tree, on the roof?
Anyway, she and Miriel and the unibeagle must stick together for now, since only Miriel has a key to get back in. Even though Silky lives here, and Miriel's just a guest!
It just isn't right. Offer Silky a key.
Dream 2: Dogs, but not Cats!
Two attractive girls live in my house. Our two house cats are closely attached to them. But then the cats have a strange history. They both used to be dogs, and just transformed into cats one day--we don't know how or why.
And even back when they were dogs, they were more than ordinary pets to those two girls. Lovers, or at least sex-toys. Loved to lick them, and quickly learned nipple-nibbling excited them so much they'd end up all in bed together licking and sucking away till they all collapsed in a happy heap.
But the girls, while keeping quiet about that, sort of think of it as a normal perversion. Girls and dogs, just a natural fit. Discreet, long-lasting, unpossessive lovers... all in the family. Extended family.
But when the dogs turn into cats, and the cats start licking their nipples and wanting to be petted and licked back, well, that's too weird, the girls get flustered. One must have standards!
Funny. Who'd have thought cats'd offer social bargains like that? Trying to please just seems unfeline, unnatural!
But really, why wouldn't they? They're in different bodies now, but they're the same affectionate souls--they love the same people. And even if you think of them as pure cat, they're getting a sexy reward--what's unfeline about that? Enlightened self-interest.
To me, the human girls seem to have a strange double standard. But then, I mated with Silky the unicorn/krelkin, and we have a part-beagle child. Next to the complications of my love life, my housemates' fuss over what's just kinky fun versus creepy weird, looks... trivial.
Dream 3: Creature Becomes Creator
Now my dream shuttles between my present--full of mixed-up, zoophilic housemates and car-mooching relatives--and historical scenes from the late 1930s--muted color, tinted the sepia of old paper. But not just viewed--lived. I'm there, between the wars, in Europe. I'm on a cafe terrace in wooded hills in rural Germany or Austria, talking with my god. My god specifically, that is--not yours. All over the world, local nature gods or spirits can pass as human. But they can take animal, plant or mixed forms, as needed, and can breed or even build from scratch their own creatures, in small numbers--Children of a Lesser God. Gods.
I'm one such experiment. I can shift to pass as human, these days, but I'm basically built on a deer, with snippets of unicorn.
At the moment my creator looks like a mustached, balding German in lederhosen and bright blue stockings (of course you know from the Kalevala that in the north woods, shamans and nature-gods all love blue socks). In the wild, my Creator prefers an animal or treeish form. Spent the whole nineteenth century as a twisted pine--very Romantic. My Creator's name is a two-root compound, half German, half Greek or Latin.
Then my creator and that Austrian cafe are gone, and I'm in the present looking back. My god died in World War Two! That rarely happens--gods don't age. But if their local source is burned or poisoned or paved, they can die. Not forever, unless the site stays sterile permanently, and that's rare--even Bikini and Chernobyl grew back, after all! So when a place-god dies, it usually regrows like a lopped-off tree, as life returns.
But in what form? If any of their creatures survive, one of them grows wiser and more multishaped until it's the new incarnation of that place-spirit. Creation slowly becomes creator!
I wasn't in Europe when the war broke out, but on America's Pacific coast, he'd sent me to learn from redwood spirits. Lucky; or was it foresight on his part? I was a just a deer, a shy talking deer with an alicorn bud on my brow, just learning how to heal, and quite unable to kill. In the Nazi era, I'd have been slaughtered.
So I survived. And I must have been the only survivor among my Creator's little experiments, for slowly, over the last 75 years, I've been imperceptibly growing from animal to nature-god! Or, looking at it spiritually, not physically, I've been a dead god slowly coming back to life, fusing with one of my descendants. Creatures.
So... I might as well quit worrying that I'm peculiar. On my way from animal to spirit, I'm just passing through human as well as passing for human. But humanity isn't my job. Never was.
And quit worrying that I'm so slow to change! 75 years isn't long for a divine resurrection. Brisk, even. It's going well.
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