Dreaming of Pan -- Redux

Be still my pagan heart...

I'm quite fascinated by this image a friend sent me today. Have been dreaming of Pan again. Maybe it's because I found a cache of old messages from the person whom I based the character of Pan on in SAURIMONDE I while tidying up my inbox last week and have been toying with resurrecting him for the next SAURIMONDE book.

One day when we have the headspace, Melissa and I will have to write the tell-all about who the various characters were based off of in SAURIMONDE I & II, and some of the real life events incorporated between the pages.

But for now, I'm reposting this entry from a couple of years ago.

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From the private journal of Scarlett Amaris - April 29th, 2013, Montsegur, France:

I took a long walk through the forests this morning trying to shake myself from the dream and yet, I found myself not wanting to let it go at the same time. Even though it's the end of April it's started to snow again. I hate the cold and my feet are still frozen as I type this, but there's something pure and magical when the world lies within an unbroken carpet of white--there's a stillness which filters down to nothing, save my frozen breath against the wind. I love when it's so quiet I can hear my own heartbeat as the ghosts of my life give rise within the playground of my mind.

The dream...

I dreamed of you again last night. I was on a bus heading across the border from lands unknown to Mexico. I fell asleep in the dream, and when I was jolted awake by the gears shifting in the old bus, I was in a dusty, tumbleweed strewn town straight out of a spaghetti western. The bus stopped at a light pink, stucco hotel faded from the relentless sun. An unseen mariachi band played a mournful tune in the distance. I walked through a large group of tourists milling about the courtyard to the cool inner recesses that led to my room. As I dug in my purse searching for the hotel key, you appeared dashing as ever. A part of me in the dream knew you were dead, and had been so for quite some time and yet, there you were, much younger than when you passed on. You asked me how I'd been and I couldn't stop staring at your handsome face. The sound of your gravelly voice sent shivers down my spine--reminding me of endless, sweaty nights wrapped in your embrace, and what it was like to feel safe again. Your heart may never have been on offer, but there was solace to be had from our encounters. Maybe because we both knew they would never last. Standing in the dimly lit hallway, I told you about the new book, about SAURIMONDE, and that it was hard and full of sex and you would probably love parts of it. You laughed and said you always loved hard sex. Then you grabbed from behind, wrapping your arms around me, growling you were proud of me before biting me on the back of the neck. My knees went weak, along with my will. You knew I'd written the character of Pan based on you. He has all of your sweetness, sexiness, and rock star swagger. I wanted to stay in your embrace. I wanted it to be real, but even within the dream, I knew it was a dream. I breathed you in, leaning back into your warmth as you whispered against my flesh I still owed you a naked ritual exorcism. Laughing, I protested there hadn't been time yet. And then you were gone. You vanished without so much as a whisper. As I searched for you, one of the locals told me in broken English you were somewhere hanging with the boys, and I hope wherever you are now this is true. I imagine you telling some ribald tall tale, a cigarette burning between your fingers, and a half drunk tequila resting on the table in front of you. You will forever be this man in my memories.

End of dream...

The character Pan was based upon a very charismatic friend of mine who died suddenly quite a few years ago. He was on tour for most of his life with various musical projects, and wherever he was in the world, he would send me exceptionally naughty fairy tales involving the two of us in uniquely perverse circumstances. He had quite an imagination, coupled with a charming British turn of phrase, and through the years we accrued an arsenal of personal jokes between us. I stole the line 'maybe the chance to worship at your temple door' directly from him. I miss our banter more than anything else, and I'd like to think with the curious timing of the dream, now the book is finished, and due out any day, that my friend was giving his stamp of approval. I always thought of him as Pan; lusty, earthy, sexy, and mischiveous. He was no woman's man and every woman's man--great fun while he was around, but you always knew he was only passing through.

All hail the Great God Pan! May he make another nocturnal visit sooner than later...

Much love from where the worlds touch,

S - xx

p.s. Stage one of the new secret project with Melissa St. Hilaire is finished and we'll be sharing it within the next few days. No, I haven't posted the new excerpt from DESIRED PYROTECHNICS--I'll get to it, I promise.