A journal with orders to write: Tenyjah

[Tenyjah Villette]

I have been given this notebook to keep as a journal. Master Mister Lucien has given it to me with directives to write in it as often as is possible. It is my job to fulfill what he wishes, and so, I write. This is the first time i have been told to do something with my penmanship. The last time i had the privilege to hold ink to paper, i was still at the training house. Even then I had been told that most masters did not want their acquisitions to be that literate but, because of my own unique standing, i was taught either way.

There were suggestions of what topics I should fill these pages with before he trailed off with a statement that I should also find topics that I would prefer to write about. I fear most times, when my master leaves me with such a bend to his shoulders, or uncertainty hanging in words not completely delivered. It is as if Master Lucien finds me most unfitting of an acquisition. I will work harder to rectify these unspoken wrong doings that are hidden within the mechanics of my own training.

Master Lucien is part of a gathering of faces here, that are as elevated, educated and as commanding as he is. There seems to be about the place a sense of community amongst those that live here, permanently and/or temporarily therefor, should Master Lucien be away, I am to follow the instructions of those who have remained at the house with me.

I do not understand these free orders I am given by both Master and those within the household. I am not here to choose nor was it by choice to have come here but, there is no regret for either process since these processes are not to be granted to one such as myself.

I only wish to please those that have endeavored to taking me into their ownership and so, I want very much to please Mas Mister Lucien and those within these halls. I try but, attempting to do something does not redeem the task. It is luck, fate and the soft hearts of those here that they have not taken me to The Darkness to be taught what I must do, and reminded that I am not to upset those who have been so gracious to me.

It pains me to know that i still unsettle those elevated above me, as I have been here for more than what would be considered a visit, and my training chastises e for the very same fact. All in all I shall try harder, be better so that the household can find themselves in comfort as they should.

[Tenyjah Villette]

It has been days since my last entry, since upon query to Mister Lucien, he has expressed that it is not imperative to write in ones journal every day, only as frequent as one sees fit, and that he has mentioned perhaps once a week, or once a month at best, I will attempt the most frequent, as I hope this will please him much.

This entry will be about a dream. The same dream I've had since i was a girl, I am surrounded by a ripe opulence. A room so bedazzled with gold trim, lights so bright they shine like diamonds and there is music playing. The music tempts me to sway, to move with its line of lyrical speech, ebbing to crest and recede with this stroke of a bow over the strings of a violin, accompanied by the golden aromatic voice of a finely tuned piano.

The air is sweet. I can smell sugar plums, chocolate, strawberries, custard and beyond the haze of gold and diamonds there is a long table and I can make out the silhouette of a spread laid out on the table, along with sparkling wines and brandies.

The music works a massage, soothing and placating under my skin, into my muscles and even into the very marrow of my bones and I am filled with conflicting emotions towards movement while my logic rightfully intervenes. I have never been taught to dance, it is not an act that is permissible in my station. I have been privy to watch, and have been instructed with the musicality of various instruments and song, as i do sing but, i am never to dance...yet in my dream, this music plays and I want only to move.

The more the urge grows, it is as if my eyes had been clouded, and I am able to see others within the room. There are couples, beautiful couples draped all about, held together with smiles and rhythm, dancing to the waltz, swaying like autumn leaves in the wind. So remarkably beautiful, it is a shame to have them around me, the immoveable one that I am and so, I find my footing and begin to exit the room but, I am tossed about by the couples enthralled with one another, as if I am invisible to them all.

Suddenly the crown parts with the fettering sound of polite applause,and I find myself standing beside a gleaming white piano. There is a woman playing. She sits in a gilded cream and yellow trim gown, while her mate wears the same colours, but in a proper suit. He wears no jacket as it would be cumbersome with his dexterity of play, and so a vest is what compliments his cream long sleeve silk shirt. I dare not look beyond my peripheral vision, and so from my stance, I can only make out the dark hair of the woman and the sunlight blonde of the violinist.

The applause stops and I hear a familiar tune; Nigra Sum. All eyes are on me, and it is only then that I move to look over my mode of dress, a gold corseted dress with white trim. My toes have even been painted gold and i wriggle them over the gleaming hardwood floor.

I look out onto the room, the players still in my peripheral vision. Gently as instructed at the training house, I clasp my hands ever so slightly in front of me, and I take my first breath to dedicate to the song. I open my mouth and...It is over, I wake up.

Dreams are peculiar if one can remember the ones they have. I have read that there is some credit to give to the subconscious for these picture shows during times of sleep. I wonder how the body is rejuvenated during such times if the mind is an eternal track of discourse.

I am not bothered by this recurring dream but, only curious that my mind should cling to this fantastical fiction. If it were a memory, i would understand more as memories have a sort of emotive stamp, original, sacred even to those that hold them. I understand memories because I have some of my own, of my teachings, always inlaid into every aspect of the life i am given.

This dream is only a point of curiosity of the mind in general. How peculiar and yet wonderfully interesting.