Animals are

Animals are invading my dreams. Moose, bear, wolves–they’re all in my head and popping up in my dreamtime. I attribute this to Dana Stabenow, whose 8 or so books about Alaska native Kate Shugak I have read in the last month or two. I love these books, these people, this Alaska she writes about. I picked up the first one because it was a mystery, which I read a lot of, but have learned to appreciate Stabenow as one of the more accomplished writers in any . . .

Write the first 50 words of your piece about “Animals are” in a comment.


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

15 thoughts on “Animals are”

  1. …dream. I see her, spear in hand hunting Narwhal in the dark – necrolytic, phosphorescent eyes roaming the surface. Beneath her shawl she waits – babushka of the ice pack. And there He is, unicorn of the ocean; corrugated, nacreous lance piercing the darkness, waiting for her to leap on board… descending deeply to where no one has been.


  2. I’ll play, Giovanni! . . . where no one has been . . .

    “Come, child,” she calls to me, her voice eerie in the frigid sea. She points with her spear at something in the depths and I plunge in, fearless.

    As we descend I see my dream animals and soon there are people in the dim depths. Seaweed drapes their shoulders and waves in the dim light. There is . . .

  3. There is…life in the abyssal depths in kingdoms of ice where all the proud have come to be. There is Raisa, her lips a’red, and hair as blue, as blue can be. Coral swathes her weaving form, her dorsal nudges me, and I take hold as we descend, deeper, and deeper, in the frigid sea.

    “Where are we going?” I ask this proud divinity.

    “To the mines, to the mines!” She answers, whisperingly.

    You’re it! I think we’re on to someting here.

  4. …She answers, whisperingly.

    I strain to see through the gloom. She pulls me with her, deeper and deeper yet. I see a faint glow. As we approach it grows brighter and brighter.

    When Raisa stops, I see the glow emanates from a portal into a cave. “Go,” Raisa urges, and pushes me toward the entrance.

    Inside I see a multitude of lighted, many-faceted balls. Each brilliant ball seems to represent . . .

  5. Each brilliant ball is a multi-coloured world of incandesence; dulcet sounds emanating, swirling vortices calling forth memories left behind in other times, pulling my heart closer…desire and a deeper desire within me; giving in to everything that I long for. I am struggling to be observer; instead I am observed.

    “Raisa!” I call. “Raisa! Help Me! Where have you gone?

    Through the portal a tentacle reaches for me; gripping; injecting elixir; withdrawing, and I am whole again – hearing the siren call now like Ulysees lashed to his mast. I can choose again.

    I swim to the silver ball. Touching it I am drawn in like fluid; and before me lies the vast…

  6. lies the vast . . .

    map of all my imaginings, my dreams, my connection to the great cosmos of consciousness. Like heat, elixir swirls through my veins opening me into wider and wider worlds of awareness. I am at once removed and yet connected to myself. I decipher mysteries previously hidden to my conscious mind, I understand the signs and symbols of my past and the paths of my future.

    The silver ball cradling me expands, floats, and I drift in a . . .

  7. Mmmm…I like your last post very much. I’m getting ready to go out right now, but I’ll be back this afternoon to continue our little adventure. Your site, by the way, has been very helpful to me. I appreciate the lovely fragments you present for writers.


  8. and I drift in a…(n)

    amniosis of brilliance. The ball: membranous, receiving nourishment, giving waste, squeezed peristaltically through the channel of life from which I will emerge, reborn. I no longer know where I begin and end; I am one with the light that reshapes; my bones are reknitted, flesh congeals around them and “the map of all my imaginings” has prepared me.

    A rush, a surge…I emerge, and Babushka catches me. “I have been waiting,” she says with eyes that glow. “I have been waiting for you.” Moose, Bear and Wolves suckle me, and I…am…ready…

  9. I…am…ready…

    ready with a sense of infinity and a calm warmth that seems to radiate outward from my newly formed beingness. Babushka hands me a brightly laquered, egg shaped doll, which I open like an Easter egg. It’s a puzzle, with one doll inside another until you reach the center. “These are your tools, child,” Babushka says, “these are love, peace, honor, healing, and compassion. Take them back into the other world and use them well.”

    As her voice fades, I seem to spiral away, spinning and spinning into nothingness, leaving Babuska and my dream animals is a swirling cloud . . .

  10. in a swirling cloud.

    I have returned from the depths where no other has been. And from my apartment window I see the dawn alight. The giant red sun emerges from the ocean and I imagine Babushka riding Narwhal, herding that ancient orb of life. And I remember Raisa: hair of cyan, undulating form, pathfinder to metamorphoses. Who am I now? What will become of me? Who will teach me to use my tools?

    The ocean of traffic and hurried throngs, they call me. But into these depths I bring a new tomorrow.

    The End?

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