In my dream last night, I was a child with many other children living in a cottage in a wild forest, but not too wild because there was what was basically an abandoned ski slope nearby. In our solitude, an unseen ominous threat became imminent when a semi-magical young woman showed up and saved us. She was a gypsy-like woman with beautiful long, brown hair and a lovely face, and all in her presence couldn't help but be completely charmed. She became a sort of mother figure to us but also commanded the forces of the forest like a general.
Well, somehow, a legion of monkeys overtook our encampment, and we became slaves to the monkeys and severely indebted in exchange for being allowed to continue living as we wanted and not by the strict and oppressive monkey rule. We were allowed this option due to the charm of our mother-figure. As a result, they were cruelly kind to us, an abusive relationship that seemed better but also oddly more tense and precarious than purely cruel.
Meanwhile, in a distant land, a rough and dangerous but very well-respected man was summoned by his kingdom from the ranch where he rode and herded beasts like cattle. He was commissioned to embark into the wilderness, which he was known to navigate expertly, as a general leading a small militia into the forest to vanquish the monkey mob.
A few of us caught word of this, through our mysterious savior figure who had connections far and wide, and we readied ourselves for the arrival of the liberating army.
During one of the regular, menacing tax collection visits from the monkey band, their messenger arrived and told the rest of them that men were coming on horseback to wipe them out. They, too, made ready for the onslaught by taking what they could and, on threat of death for disobedience, giving orders to the mysterious woman to take 4 secret documents and hide them in 2 different places, since it was now unsafe for them to be carrying them in case they were overtaken, and they would come to retrieve them later, and if they were missing, we would pay. These weren't nice monkeys. But they were cute.
They departed (in their miniature steam train, by the way), and the double-crossing began. To prepare for their return, the cottage was reinforced as a fortress, all remaining valuables hidden away so they couldn't be confiscated. The documents were left on a table, to be hidden later but not in the places agreed to.
The militia was advancing down the mountainside toward the encampment, following the power lines down the hill by the skill of their master navigator. That's right. Power lines. In this medieval-style kingdom. On a ski slope. To vanquish a monkey legion in a steam train.
Along the way, the militia men occasionally tried to harm animals or to harass passers-by, but the general showed his kindness and wisdom in stopping them and reminding them that they had one objective, and they are to leave the rest of the forest untouched, unspoiled, not create new enemies as they go.
A bit further along, however, they ran into a band of gypsy-witches, friends of the woman who had cared for and defended us and enabled our impending liberation. These gypsy-witches were not loyal to the kingdom from which the militia came, and they quietly, respectfully made that known when prompted. The general's kindness and mercy, at this point, darkened to suspicion and indignation. The apparent leader of the band was singled out and asked to step forward, which she did. The group became agitated with visibly nervous anticipation. What the militia men didn't know was that this band of magical wanderers could obliterate them with their powers, calling on the creatures of the forest to aid them and commanding the pure elements to protect and defend them. But the group refrained because they, too, recognized that there are true enemies and there are misguided people, and they did not start wars but only defended themselves when absolutely necessary.
Meanwhile, word of the militia's near approach had reached our camp, and we scrambled to make ready for their welcome arrival. Someone realized that the documents had been left on the table and, if found by the militia, would surely look suspiciously like we were aiding the monkey mob rather than double-crossing them because of their content, so I ran to grab them and hide them until we could explain why we had them without raising suspicion or distrust unnecessarily in the midst of an impending battle.
Back outside on the hill, the general commanded his men to seize the woman and pull her aside, then he stepped forward and walked to her. Word of this confrontation had since reached the cottage, which was just down the hill, and our savior woman ran out to the two groups to see what she could do to mediate. As she approached, she saw the general standing in front of the leader of the band, shotgun raised, ready to fire if she didn't declare her loyalty and subjection to the kingdom.
The band was aware of the savior woman's approach, so they made no move, knowing her grace and charm would be enough to stay the wildest of hands for at least a moment. She ran around to the back of the woman being threatened to wrap her arms around her (there was no room between her and the gun, and she feared setting it off by moving it). Thus she would become collateral damage if a shot were fired. She demanded the leader of the band of gypsy-witches be unharmed while they negotiate a deal. The general, not even acknowledging the existence of the newly arrived stranger, immediately decided to make an example of the woman and prove his own cleverness by quickly crouching to his knees, pointing his weapon upward, and firing it into her upper bosom, through her shoulders and head, which effectively missed her rearward guardian as the rest of her body slipped from our savior woman's embrace.
Both the executed leader of the band and the general slumped and crashed onto the ground. What the general hadn't known is that anyone inflicting damage on the leader of the band of gypsy-witches would experience the same effects on him- or herself because of a protective spell. The gypsy people had all hoped his wisdom would shine through, he would stay his hand, realize these were friends even if of a different social allegiance...but he did not. His kindness faltered. His wisdom failed. His mercy went cold. He failed to perceive his own peril. And now they both lay dead in the mud.
The savior woman called on every power she knew, and the dead gypsy woman was relit, picked up by an unseen force onto her feet, leaving an imprint in the mud where she had lain, puddles of water in the recent rain stained red. And the life that the general had forfeit upon killing her was bestowed back upon her to restore her to life in a simultaneously tragic and beautifully breathtaking ceremony of glowing light and warm wind. The general was forgiven by the gift of life he had sacrificed, and the band harbored no ill will towards the militia as they stood there bewildered and humbled by the stunning grace and fairness of what they had witnessed.
The dream ended there.
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