I don’t know where I should go.
Too many choices.
Neither of them will be the way I remember, and that makes it even harder to decide.
To change the subject: I was thinking about nothing in particular when I was showering today, when this dream that I’d forgotten I had burst in on me with the sort of bone-chilling awfulness that you may read about, but never expect to dream of yourself.
It was a small fragment of a dream, but it was like the smallness of the fragment made it that much more terrible.
In my dream, there is a fjord. The water at the bottom is so black and so smooth that it seems like marble, and the cliffs are so high that the sun does not rise above them, but there is always a hint of light above the cliffs, so it’s like the sun never sets, either. The cliffs themselves are presumably rock, but it’s impossible to tell because they are so white with snow and ice. Maybe the fjord is just a fissure in a massive glacier.
The cold at the bottom of the cliffs is torturous.
Eventually, there is a very slight bend in the channel, and from there on it is a straight path towards a pair of Gates. These aren’t little gates. They are massive—as tall as the cliffs themselves, and as white, and all the time you think you should be getting closer, but they never get closer.
And finally, I notice the boat I am in. it’s a longboat, and the sides are low to the water, but from stem to stern the boat is immeasurable. You cannot see both ends at once, or measure the boat in feet and inches because it’s not a boat made of matter. It’s made of time, and it is eons in length.
This is where my dream decided I needed a little extra weird in my mental life, so it zoomed outward to show me that the still, black waters of the channel were a gradual darkening and solidifying of the starry cosmos, and the icy cliffs were so huge that my dream perspective could not zoom out far enough to fit them in its view…it was not possible to see what was beyond the colossal gates…there was just an impression of high, barren wastes in greys and blinding white.
The impossible sense of size and time in this dream were bad enough, but it was worse because, though I could not see anyone else in the eons-long boat, I got the distinct impression that there were others sitting alongside me, and that these other travelers were motionless, and had given up all thought of moving or of trying to find out more about our destination, or of hoping to ever reach it in the end. They were just there…alive…and yet…effectively dead. And invisible.
It was a very nasty dream. I am not surprised that I put a little extra (though ultimately futile) effort into forgetting it.
And…I mean…I can only assume it was a dream. It felt like a dream. I doubt I would be able to mentally construct a scene like that (outside of a dream) and not be aware that I’m doing it until the scene was complete. That’s very unlikely.
I don’t recall reading it, either…although there is an unpleasantness about it that makes me think of both R’yleh and Vastarien. Except that in our own reality, there is no possible way that the place I saw in the dreamworld is real. (Unless there is and I just don’t know. Which I am okay with.)
Stuff like this makes me wish more and more that I could go back and figure out where exactly I started to go wrong with the kinds of dreams I have, and what exactly it means.
In other news: I added another colour to the painting I’m making for Jodie. If I weren’t so lazy, it would be complete and in China by now.
I am still looking for someone to read my last poem.