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Omri's Notes - Pollen Memories

Courtesy of Omri Azar

  Spotting a white pollen puff drifting through the air, I sought to investigate it. Touching it seemed to inflict a state of altered consciousness on others, so I sought to make use of the tools in my arsenal to understand it. I peered at the pollen puff through a lens of abstract truth and found myself still somehow affected. Knowing what I know now of the glass this may have something to do with it being of faerie make and of another reality. I would urge caution regardless. Visual observation is fine. Interaction is what triggers it, it seems.

First pollen experience:
  I found myself seeking a friend of reliable sort, Bright, and happily facilitated a meeting between him and my sword, who I also was sure was my friend. The crown I saw upon his head made it so such a conversation was possible, I knew this to be true. There were trees whispering with wind and plants brushing against me but that hardly took my focus. Bright acted a little concerned with my behavior for some strange reason, at one point magically curing me of disease, which had no apparent effect.
  When the memory faded, precipitated by a sneeze, I found plants had become people and Bright had become Pawldo, although the sense of reliability remained, perhaps anchoring him as the stand in for Bright in this memory? Whoever this memory came from had viewed Bright favorably, and viewed him and Ophelia as their friend.
  Now knowing what was going on, I ventured another go at the pollen puff. A quick smack got enough out that I was quickly transported again.

Second Pollen Experience:
  This one was less intrusive, if it could be called that. I found myself compelled to sing a song I hadn’t known before, until I had sung it three times. Later I learned this was only part of the song known as the Mushroom Song.
  “Sleep of the Earth from the land of Faerie,
  Deep is the lore of C’noc na Sidhe-
  Hail be to They of the Forest Gentry,
  Pale, dark spirits, help us free-
  White is the dust of the state of dreaming,
  Light is the mixture to make one still-
  Dark is the powder of Death’s redeeming,
  Mark but that one pinch can kill-”


  Above I noted that using the glass to peer at the pollen transported me into a memory anyways. This effect was not replicated with viewing the flowers with the lens, although that may have something to do with the fact the flowers I looked at were plucked. Perhaps more study should be done, if able.
Created by Fern Eberhardt (Kelly Perfetto) at 12-13-23 04:55 AM
Last Modified by Fern Eberhardt (Kelly Perfetto) at 12-13-23 05:37 AM