Lately I have been adrift; a captain’s fear while in the vast unknown of the mind’s seas. My dreams have been anything but explainable, and certainly focused around a location I have visited not long ago. My dream log is filling up with this conundrum and though I can’t quite piece it together just yet, I believe that soon it will intertwine somehow.
It is absolutely important to always make note of a dream (at least I think so.) They are our visitors from another dimension who come along and take us on a mini adventure while the body rests. I have a dream dictionary I picked up along my travels (follow this link if interested: A to Z Dream Dictionary ) It has actually helped me make a little sense out of some of my more recent confusing dreams—a valid tool while wading in the waters of the vast unknown. I highly recommend it but must share with you that of course; with anything that isn’t an exact science, you must take everything shared in the book as the author’s educated opinion.
For fun however, I have decided to share with you my creative take on my recent dreams.
It had been a time since the traveler had seen another living soul. The roads were long and dry and nearly absent from the rest of the world. When he came upon the large dwelling, a mote of hope had become of him, though it all seemed so surreal. The building appeared as still as the days that preceded him. The colonial era structured home sat comfortably atop of a small incline that separated it carefully from the rest of the neighborhood. It reached high to the treetops and as far back as he could see.
He walked up to the front of the structure and noticed a silhouette of a woman in the doorway. He called to her, but his voice didn’t seem to travel any further than where he stood. He tried again; this time leaning forward in an effort to toss his voice forward through the thick … and … nothing.
The air was thick, and closing in on him. There was a sensation of feeling motionless against an invisible force that imprisoned him just in front of this doorway. He could see beyond the petite silhouette at a backdrop of stairs at the end of a long corridor. His heart provoked him to fight past the grip of the invisible so that he could enter this colonial era structure and explore what was within. Something about it seemed to need him.
He closed his eyes, and a moment later, he found himself inside a room at the top balcony looking down at a piano. The room was empty and stunning. There were pews symmetrically lined up towards the stage coated in black against the white painted walls. The ceiling was an artist’s interpretation of the sky that hung a crystal chandelier in its center. The glory of this room was mesmerizing to his tired eyes.
Again, he felt like something had held him completely still in his seat. He struggled for a moment to stand but found it difficult. The silhouette then walked up on the raised wooden stage and sat at the grand piano which was positioned perfectly in front of enormous glass windows.
After a few notes were played, he immediately recognized the piece as Ravel’s Scarbo. Chills immediately raced up his spine as he reached his hands out to feel the invisible box he seemed to be trapped in. He flung his fists wildly as he kicked and screamed. Again, the noise and effort remained trapped within this small space of existence.
The silhouette turned to him and almost seemed to enjoy viewing his struggle, and a moment later, she snapped her fingers and he now found himself in huge garden. The sounds of Ravel’s Scarbo were amplified to the point of his ears bleeding. Like a rat caught in a maze, he began through this garden. Laughter weaved its way through the angry keystrokes of that piano piece.
“Please!” He’d shout in a confused desperation while stopping aside a row of black roses; “let me out of here!”
A man appeared before him and replied; “But you keep coming back.”