Galaxy Quest Letter

In deep sleep, in morning hours, the oh so familiar flash peeled me away from my dreamless sleep and shoved me into consciousness. As if the three of us were one, we all sat up slowly silently staring into each other. Without the need of speech we knew- somehow- that it was time to continue our journey through- into the unknown. Though sequence seems to play little role in our play through the maze, the things which had happened went as follows: First consciousness, then confirmation, then connection through context, and finally conscious awareness of freezing cold. In that order. Winter had come, full on while in our sleep. Wind that once combed through our hair, and soothed, now turned on us violently biting at our naked cheeks and numbing our hands. This winter had started last night, but the call of the wind kindled warmth from inside out. That once present experience now seemed nothing but dimly lit coals- allowing the elements to reach us. Quickly as we could, we all stood and started our journey of the day into the now conservatively covered wood. As we walked the trees flaunted their new robes of snow and gloves of ice. I couldn’t help but smile at this thinking of an iron tree of a much older story.
Through the trudging, and labored steps of our daily stride in the snow- like the winter of this world- a mountain appeared before us and taunted with its covering of all sides. It seemed miles to the left, and miles to the right. We all looked at each other, each knowing in one’s own way, and confirmed that we must be prepared to climb the mountain before us. As if waving us with a smile, and comforting us the make the first steps, a light- the light- flashed from the top of the mountain. A friend holding our hands, beckoning us to dig deep- assuring us of the way home.
The climb was treacherous at first, each step a slide from side to side as if our feet were confused on the directions we were giving. The wind had begun, again, to pick up its argument from earlier and lashed out against us in all hostility. Heart still wore the crown, and won the day- head was forced to take a knee and obey the new rule. As we gripped one by one the rocks laid out, and as we got higher and higher the wind pushed and yelled and swore- and we bit down and we climbed against all sense.
The world was a white room, and visions of snow blinded our intentions and paused all actions. Something inside me drove me on, our guide yelled inside and burned for one more push. One more rock to climb. One more. Just one more. Though the white room faded into a black swirl before my eyes, I awoke on a ledge in sheets of snow. No more talk from the wind, no more blinding white room, no more push. I sat up. The other two followed my actions like shadows. Winter had not gave way just yet, but the blue sky looked down on us and the calm, crisp air let us finally relief ourselves of a sigh of contentment. When all my faculties caught up with my liberation, a color caught my eye that broke the natural flow of winter white and stained the blanket under us with red wine-at least that was the color. At closer examination, I found that carved in the rock face were carefully placed steps- like stairs.
These stairs were created, they were designed. These steps came not from the summer rains, or the bite of time- these were designed. Designed and dressed with velvet. The sight was as if someone- or something- placed before us honorary passage to the top of the mountain.
I was the first to blemish the red of the stair with the snow of my boot. The climb stretched as long as the endless curve of the stair, though they never lost their velvet nor faded. The final step was the only one not dressed, but humbly covered with snow content in its grand simplicity. The summit, again, yielded our sight with another surprise. Some distance from where the ascension plateaued and the extension merged back from smooth step to rocky terrain, there was a great gate that stood mighty before us.
Its stern features shining in the evening sun, welcoming us in possibly the same way a giant king could: with sovereign reign over the mountain-top. We approached it with hallowed meekness and, with respect, offered ourselves under and through its iron rule. As if our pledge had triggered the unlocking of the sky, small snowflakes gathered anew on our clothes and on the gates mighty arms, adorning it with diamonds. The sky had switched from ocean blue to a ceiling of grey fog, as if changing its cloths to some worthy of the ceremony. A coronation of sorts. Lavishing diamonds on and around us, and on and around its high king, and its sovereign majesty.
We were at the top, we made it.