Friday, May 11, 2007

Let me tell you about my dreams.

In primary school, I dreamt I was descending an endless shining escalator, down amongst a forest of neon buildings, and then I arrived at my doorstep. I do not know why, but this one refuses to be forgotten. Perhaps I remember it because, secretly, desperately, I believe it has a meaning I have yet to realise.

Now I am floating through all manner of places, forests, cities, and then - inexplicably - I am skiing down a mountain, and the snow erupts and swirls and I am falling into a maelstrom of the purest blue water. It is serene, and yet exhilarating at the same time, and I marvel at the whirlpool that drags me down and wonder where I am headed. When I woke, I could still hear the roaring in my ears.

More recently I was a rabbit, and in my burrow I found a hole that went down, so down I went. Through passages no wider than an ant and cathedrals of rock - a labyrinth deep below the world. And i emerged in a copy of the world I came from, a reverse-world. I saw my house, but it was empty and decrepit, devoid of sound. I was alone in the world, and all around me i was surrounded by ruins and silence - absolute silence.

Do you remember the last time you woke up with the remnants of a dream unfurling in your mind? Eluding all attempts at recollection, like water slipping through your palms. I really hate that, because - in a sorrowful sense - I feel like I am losing something very important, something I should be knowing.

Today in the range, I dreamt of a lady in a white dress, haughty and proud. But something woke me, a distant cough, or the opening of a door perhaps.

And she was gone.