Thousand Years of Dreams Day 21: Seth’s Dream Part 2


Day 21 brings us the second part of “Seth’s Dream” and while this particular dream-memory has more to do with unlocking part of the mystery that is the immortal fate of Seth and Kaim it still continues the theme and subject of prisons of solitudes we make for ourselves began with Part 1.

This remembered dream by Seth works best when paired with playing the game. Of all the 33 dreams created for Lost Odyssey these two remain the weakest in terms of emotional impact just for the fact that they’re more game plot related than stand-alones.

Seth’s Dream Part 2

I know you probably hate me now Aneira.

Or perhaps, as the descendant of the noble white-winged clan, you harbour no such vulgar emotion as hatred.

Kind and gentle as you are, perhaps you have forgiven me. Perhaps you have accepted what I did, and now you pity me for being trapped in the prison of solitude again.

But still, good, kind Aneira, I insist on making one last, selfish request:

Please hate me.

Please hate me for eternity.

If I know that you hate me, I can remain connected to you.

If I know that you have not forgiven me, the pain of that will enable me to feel you close to me.

Are you laughing at my convoluted reasoning?

Then let me say it more simply.

I am lonely.

I fear eternal solitude.

That fear has been with me ever since I killed you with my own two hands…

Nine hundred years have passed since we first met.

In the conventional way, I took a husband. Even more conventionally, I gave birth to a son.

Soon after naming the baby “Sed”, my husband died in an epidemic. At his bedside, of course, I cursed the fate that would not let me die.

Had you not been with me, Aneira, I would never have been able to find the strength to raise Sed by myself.

You said to me, “There is no greater joy than for a child to be born and to grow up healthy.”

Fitting words from you, sole survivor of the winged clan!

You also said to me, “You will be all right, Seth. You are no longer alone. Now you have Sed. You will never be alone as long as he is with you.”

I nodded to you in tearful recognition of the truth of your words, and you went on with some embarrassment:

“Leave Sed to me, I will train him to be a full-fledged man of the sea. If anyone should dare to threaten him, I will protect him with my life.”

How kind you were, Aneira!

How truly kind!

Even now I can recall the carefree smile on your face when you were playing with Sed.

He was such a frail little boy, but you steeled your heart to train him sternly, and on those days when he had cried himself to sleep, I often caught you in profile, watching him in sleep, your face sutured with ineffable gentleness.

How glad I am, Aneira, that fate brought us together!

In my long, long, endlessly long life, I can declare without hesitation that you were my finest companion.

So why, Aneira, did events play out the way they did?

To this day, I have no idea why.

Do you know?

Did you know why those things were happening to you?

This is what I would like to know.

All the more so because I can no longer learn the answer. I desperately want to know it

It happened thirty years ago.

I said goodbye to you and Sed, and made my way to the Tower of Mirrors.

For the memory had come back to me: the mission on which I had come to this world; The task I had been sent here to accomplish and the reason I possessed: memories of a thousand years spent in this world.

I was a pirate who prized freedom above all. And what I enjoyed most of all was living widely on open sea. Exactly why I was so drawth to freedom, I myself did not know.

But, that was when I learned: deep in the heart of one who desire freedom lays the pain of freedom denied.

It was you, Aneira, who first taught me the expression “prison of solitude”.

And it was true: I was trapped in a prison of solitude.

Not simply, however, because I was confined in a cave on a desert island. For me, being in this world was itself a prison of solitude.

When I came to realize this, I headed for the Tower of Mirrors in order to return to the world I had come from.

Nourished by my thousand years of memories…memories of having lived in this world…I would return to the world where I belonged.

In the Tower of Mirrors, he was waiting…Gongora, the man with who I was supposed to return to my original world.

I had no way to knowing, however, that this was a trap that Gongora had set for me.

I can never forget how he stood there, spread legged and defiant, before the Tower of Mirrors, laughing that arrogant laugh of his. My stomach turns when I recoil his hateful face, and my flesh creeps when I think of his cunning, fearsome trap.

Gongora had no intention of returning to our former world. Instead, he hatched a fiendish plot to make himself ruler of this world, and anyone who resisted him, he crushed without mercy.

I was one of those who stood in his way.

As soon I learned of his evil design, I flew back to my pirate ship.

Of course, such a monster could not be satisfied with merely waiting for me there.

Knowing him…

I felt a terrible foreboding.

“Sed! Aneira!” I screamed as I leaped into the ship.

In the next second, I was with a gasp that my foreboding had been correct.

Both Sed and you where there, Aneira, on the deck.

Sed lay bleeding.

And you

When you became aware of me and slowly turned in my direction, you had a strange gleam in you eyes.

And there was something in your mouth.

I was Sed’s leg. You had ripped it from his body.

All sound faded.

Sed lay there in a sea of blood, his leg torn off, trying to cry out to me.

I couldn’t hear a thing.

I could read in his sorrow filled eyes, however, his plea: “Don’t blame Aneira! It’s not his fault!”

I’m sure I must have said something.

“What happened?” or perhaps “How did this happen?” or “Calm down, Aneira.” Or “Be strong, Sed.”

But Then again, I may have simply screamed, too rattled to produce coherent words.

In any case, I could not hear my own voice.

You were glaring at me, Aneira. Your eyes shone horribly.

You were no longer the Aneira I knew. You had been possessed by some wholly other being.

Why, Aneira, why?

You spit out Sed’s leg and let it drop onto the deck.

And then you came after me.

Sed’s voice broke the silence when he shouted, “Stop!”

Was he screaming at you, Aneira, or at me to stop?

The whole scene became enveloped in a white light.

When I regained consciousness, I was lying on the deck.

As I slowly opened my eyes and raised myself, I realized that my sword was gone. I had only an empty scabbard at my waist.

I looked around with a shock, and there you were, Aneira, lying on your back.

My sword had been plunged into your chest and stood there like a grave marker.

“Aneira!” I screamed and ran over to you.

I started shaking you, but your eyes were shut tight, and there was no sign they would ever open again.

I shouted at you to wake, to come back to me.

Then I shouted to Sed, “Hurry, Sed! Come here, Aneira is…”

But there was no reply from Sed. Having lost so much blood, he was unconscious.

If only you had been merely unconscious, Aneira!

If only you had been badly wounded but alive!

If only you could have started breathing again!

But my sword had done its job to horrifying perfection. It had pierced your chest exactly where it needed to in order to take your life.

I stared at your corpse uncomprehendingly.

O, Aneira, lone survivor of the proud white-winged clan!

Tell me…please tell me…what happened?

Was I the one who killed you?

I sense someone approaching from behind.

I turned to find Gongora staring at me, expressionless.

“You killed him,” he sad softly, his voice devoid of emotion.

I shook my head, winding.

“No. . .”

My voice was hoarse, trembling. . .

Gongora went on, as if slowly pressing his words into my ears.

“It was you. You killed him.”

“No! I would never do such a thing!”

The trembling of my voice spread to my entire body. To think that I might have killed you,  Aneira, with my own hands…that could never be! This was what I wanted to believe, but the reality before me was shattering such hopes.

Gongora threw back his head in contemptuous laughter, all but proclaiming his victory over me.

“You see now, Seth, what you have done…killed the one you most loved. You are on your way back to the prison of solitude!”

Again he laughed aloud.

And he was still laughing as he left the deck, this man who, knowing I could never die, set a trap for me that was crueller than death itself.

I collapsed where I stood.

Looking up at the sky, I felt the tears pouring down my face…tears of blood.

Again I was plunged into eternal solitude, never to be released from it by death.

Gongora succeeded in locking my heart in darkness again, sealing in my memories with it.

I wept uncontrollably.

I screamed until it all but ripped my throat to shreds.

If my heart…my mind and soul…were something lodged inside my chest, I would have torn it out.

Help me, Aneira! Help me!

Eddie Murphy?


As I’ve mentioned in the past, I don’t follow football, baseball, or any other sport created by putting something random before the word “ball.”  Why would I ever need sports when I’ve got the Oscars?  A few nights ago, I found myself asking Arleigh just what exactly was meant by all this talk of “fantasy football.”  Seriously, I assumed that it was some sort of football team made up of hobbits, elves, and talking Narnia animals.  Turns out I was wrong but it also turns out that whereas some of you have got your fantasy football drafts, I’ve got my fantasy Oscar season.  And you know what?  My fantasy Oscars always turn out to be a lot more interesting than the real Oscars.

But, ultimately, it’s the real Oscars that matter and, as we enter the Fall, the real Oscar season is heating up.  Not only are the self-styled Oscar contenders lining up to be released but the pieces of the eventual ceremony are starting to come together as well.

Each year, one of the most important pieces of the ceremony is the announcement of just who exactly will be hosting the big event.  Last year, James Franco and Anne Hathaway were announced as hosts and we all know how that eventually went.  Perhaps that’s why the producer of the upcoming show, hack director Brett Ratner, has decided to go the opposite direction.  Rather than picking someone who represents the future of Hollywood, he has instead picked someone who very much represents the past. 

The host of the 84th Academy Awards will be Eddie Murphy.

Perhaps not coincidentally, Eddie Murphy is also appearing in Ratner’s upcoming film, Tower Heist.  (By the way, I’ve already predicted that Tower Heist is going to suck just on the basis of the trailer.  Hopefully, I’ll be wrong because, quite frankly, it makes me happy when Ben Stiller gets to appear in a good film.  But seriously — even the title is lazy.)

I can’t really say for sure how I feel about Eddie Murphy as host of the Oscars because, to be honest, I really haven’t seen that many of his films.  I thought he was kinda good in Dreamgirls but otherwise, Eddie Murphy has always come across as being … well, the term that comes to mind is “washed up.”

Personally, I’m a part of the minority who feels that Anne Hathaway and James Franco weren’t half as bad as everyone seems to think.  Hathaway, I felt was likable and goofy and Franco — well, I kinda sorta like James Franco.  The fact that the two of them were so ill-suited for their hosting duties brought a very nice sort of unpredictable vibe to the show.  You never knew if James Franco was going to suddenly chop his arm off on-camera. 

Say what you will about Eddie Murphy, I know he’s not going to chop off his arm on live TV.

Quick Movie Review: Arachnophobia (dir. by Frank Marshall)


When I was a kid, my grandmother used to keep this clear shower curtain of a large black web, complete with a big red spider on it. It scared me so bad that I was actually more willing to brave the darkness of the basement bathroom than to have to deal with that monstrosity in the well-lit one. Between that, my brother’s EC comics and the original “The Fly” with Vincent Price, it’s how I developed Arachnophobia. It’s a fight or flight reflex that occurs when anything spider related appears. It seems fitting that as I’m writing this from a location that’s full of Black Widows, Arachnophobia is the topic for this review.

Arachnophobia marked the first directing attempt by Frank Marshall, long time producer of many of Steven Spielberg’s films. The film turned out to be a success when released, and manages to feature one the greatest Human vs. Tarantula battles ever filmed.

Although the film has some horror elements, it’s kind of hard to classify Arachnophobia as an actual horror film, despite the deaths that are in the film. There are some humorous moments (particularly from John Goodman), and the scares don’t come too often. For anyone who’s bothered by spiders, though, there are a number of jumpy moments that occur without being excessively gory. The story is a little misleading. It starts in Venezuela, South America, where a deadly tarantula manages to sneak its way on board a trip back to California. You’d think that from here, the Tarantula would end up finding another Tarantula, and thus pull a Kingdom of the Spiders with a whole town full of spiders. The writers, however, end up making a mistake in having a Tarantula mate with a common house spider, thus breeding dozens of other smaller spiders.

That’s like a Tiger trying to mate with a house cat. I’m not exactly sure if that’s even possible, but I’m getting off track. This actually ends up helping the story because now the town has to deal with all of these smaller spiders that are easy to hide around. I always considered that to be pretty effective.

Jeff Daniels character, Dr. Ross Jennings suffers from Arachnophobia in the worst way. Moving to the town of Canaima with his family, he trades the big city for a more relaxed, rural setting. Of course, it’s a happy ideal situation until various deaths start happening around town. Eventually, he and the authorities come to realize just how bad things really are. John Goodman’s character was an interesting touch as a funny exterminator, but really wasn’t used as much as he could have in this film. Then again, when he does tend to steal the scenes he’s in. Arachnophobia has a number of other supporting actors, but the film mainly belongs to Daniels, Goodman and the the spiders.

Chris Walas, who won an Oscar for his effects and make up work in The Fly helped to create some of the more mechanical spiders and close-ups when necessary. While you can tell where you’re dealing with real tarantulas and their synthetic counterparts, he did a great job in getting the fear factor out there, especially during the final standoff of the film. Without giving much away, the last 20 minutes of the movie are brilliant in that the final battle is much more than the simple “find it and squash it” scenario from Kingdom of the Spiders. It’s almost a violent chess match.

Arachnophobia is a treat. It may not be the best film about spiders in general, but if you do suffer from the condition or know someone who does, it definitely worth seeing, just to jump and squirm now and then. It’s much better than knowing there are real Black Widows to contend with.