lost tales found.
I was in my work van when a pair of huge praying mantises (mantids?) landed on the windshield. And by huge, I mean several feet long, with limbs comparable in width and structure to crab legs, if not a bit thicker. As I was trying to fumble my camera out, the larger one crawled around to the driver side window, which I realized in horror was slightly cracked.
I snatched for the knob but it was too late- it slipped inside and landed in my lap. I was instantly almost blind with panic. I flung myself headlong out the door and ran whimpering across the parking lot, flailing and trying to scrape it off with my elbows (no way I was touching it with bare skin).
Some of you will recognize that part of this story has actually happened to me.
One of a large band of warriors, allied with a rival tribe against a greater threat, led by the gods to a strange land full of stone markers bearing symbols. We tried to interpret them according to our own mythemes; The Eye, the Spider, the Thunderbolt. Under an eerie twilit sky we sought any familiar sign for comfort. Then, on the horizon, a pillar of smoke rose against the sunset.
The pillar of smoke became a great cyclone, cast in blood red by the rays of the failing sun, that towered up into space, as if both infinitely large and infinitely far away. And within the cyclone was Raven, and Raven was the cyclone, His feet planted beyond the horizon, His great dark head brushing the vault of heaven.
Gods in my dreams are always like that- many things all at once, both separate and unified simultaneously; as if a being of such incalculableness can only be apprehended by the human mind through metaphor and symbol, and even then is too much to contain. This particular “Lost Army” has shown up before, they seem to be a favored plaything of various gods: homeward bound.