A man's whole life is a succession of moment after moment. If one fully understands the present moment, there will be nothing else to do, and nothing else to pursue. Live being true to the single purpose of the moment.
—Hagakure, from the 1st Chapter
The Oslo skyline lined up like bedazzling baubles, glistening gems in the black night as the jet parted with the city. The cigar was great. Amazing. And yet and yet, Geoff had had better. Cigars weren't about price anyway, it was about taste. Hyper personalized. Geoff had even found that ten dollar cigars could taste better than hundred dollar ones, given the occasion, what you pair it with, what you’re celebrating, and with whom. Lots of variables, lots of cogs and gears. Like a watchmaker at work like clockwork on an infinitesimally small man-made universe of metal and machinery.
Geoff had one more measure of the Yamazaki, for good measure. One for the road. One for the road so far too by the way, he thought. Then he switched to Champagne. Just regular Clicquot. Not Moet. Too many bubbles, blasted straight into your mouth. He liked things a bit more refined. Moet just good for bragging in the club. Not that Geoff was above that, he had been part of that on some occasions. The seats were comfy and the flight wasn’t supposed to take long, so he dozed off.
That’s when the dreams came again. In a half-hypnagogic state, snug between dream and waking world, Geoff was in an altered state which was hyper palpable, so thick you could almost taste it. Two dreams happened in succession. Not fast. Slow, and intense, and burning, were the modes of the dreams, but the transition between was abrupt. Like a lesser demon being yanked from the inky void and forced into birth, forced into life by a superior demonic officiant. The dream fusion was a phantasm, especially when it coagulated into a third.
First, almost like before, the wolves. This time there were more. As in plural, multiple blizzard beads for eyes peppered across the snow tundras. Geoff hadn’t been frightened before, so he wasn’t this time too. A mistake. The shewolf of before bit him in the arm. Red blood spurted left and red like a fountain. Coating the white snow. Geoff fell down in a tangle of wolf and blood and powder white. As he crashed a diamond dust cloud of snow scattered and mushroomed into the air, right until it dispersed into dark nothingness. That’s when the second dream tried to take over. Tried. The shewolf kept holding on to Geoff in the first dream, as if she was holding a vigil, she stood all erect and like a monument made of stone just passing the time. As he was being yanked by rope, into the fiery red sandy plains of the second dream. Momentarily, he was caught between white and red, blue and orange gold. Geoff looked at the shewolf, gave a curt nod, she let go. Through the translucent dreamportal Geoff could see her just sitting there, comfy and at home in the snow, while her grey fur became white and one with the snow, merely the bright aquamarine orbs standing out, forming a constellation of crystal blue with the other wolves’ eyes. Then the howls let loose as the portal closed.
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