Learning Parseltongue

Last night I had a dream that I was in the throes of labor, on a bed of skins and furs (I'd like to think they were synthetic), surrounded by a dozen bare-breasted women.  Some were drumming, some were chanting, some were painting my naked body with spirals and serpent figures that were echoed in the paintings on the walls. 

I was fighting the pain, arguing with it viciously the way I argue with everything that's good for me.  I am of strong, stubborn will, but nine times of ten I turn my will in the wrong direction, against myself; my life is battle-scarred from thirty years' war with myself, terrorism against my body, cruelty toward my spirit.  This time, again, I fought, and the women's voices seemed a thousand miles away as I lashed out violently against the tempest in my belly.

Finally, my attention broke as a stranger emerged from the shadows and knelt between my knees.  She did not speak, but took in my struggles and my refusal to join in with the chant and drum, and just looked at me, one eyebrow raised, a flash of wicked humor in her flint-sharp eyes.

She, too, was marked with the undulating forms of snakes, down her arms, around her neck...but hers were moving, their tongues flicking out in the firelight.  The others in the room didn't seem to see her; the woman serving as chief midwife (someone I actually know in real life, oddly enough, though of the rest I only recognized the head drummer) went about her work with relaxed confidence, her voice soothing and encouraging.  My eyes, however, were all for the snake woman with the flame-red hair...for I knew her. 

She sat back on her haunches and crossed her arms.  "Well?" she asked, her lips not moving, merely smiling slightly.  "How long are you going to keep this up?  I have all night."

It's taking so long, I wailed to her silently.  I'm so tired, and nothing is changing, and it's taking so long!

Now she laughed, and the drums fell silent, the tribe of women struck dumb by the sound.  Everything seemed to fade into mist and smoke as She said, "You know there's only one way out."

My head fell back and I stared at the ceiling, where someone had painted a sort of Middle Eastern Sheela-na-Gig, a woman giving birth to a snake. 

"Through," I said aloud, looking down at Her.

A nod.

I wanted to scream--and in fact I was about to get the perfect opportunity, as I felt the labor building again--but instead I just asked plaintively, "What do I do?"

She rose, put her hands on my knees, and tilted Her head to one side, smiling the way I imagine a cottonmouth would smile at a rabbit.  She leaned forward, nails digging into my legs, and said,

"Push."

Comments

[Luna]

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSssssssssssSSSSSSSSS!

Loved it!

[s1ren]

WOW!!! *chills*

[Thalia]

Kundalini?

[margaritaspirit]

It's taking so long, I wailed to her silently. I'm so tired, and nothing is changing, and it's taking so long!

It's startling to come online, not fifteen minutes after I was curled up on my floor wailing the same thing and reading that. I'm glad you got your dream. I'm just praying for mine tonight.

[Luna]

Remarkable storytelling! -- Luna Ray

[Teece]

this was amazingly moving. i have chillbumps.

thank you

[Danmara]

This makes me realize just how much I fight *myself*.

Damn I needed to read this. Thanks. :)

[Sandra]

What a powerful vision! I imagine that your psyche enriched your world significantly after such an encounter with the Great Mystery - She moves in such mysterious ways...Thank you for sharing such a powerful experience here with us. I am sure that you have given each of us who have read your post a gift of precious soul food - I certainly feel that it is so.
Brightest Blessings and Happy Yule!!!!
Sandra