10-08-2015, 04:53 AM
I don't treat dreams as just dreams anymore. I treat them as truths -- they either have happened, are happening, or, but only very very rarely, will happen. And it's sort of weird that whenever I succumb to any of my usual vices, I usually forget my dreams, both pre and post vice, easier, which only heightens the hype.
Biggest dream I've ever had is quite a story. A simple story, the dream itself, but how it affected me is, well, borderline delusion. Or maybe it ain't really a delusion, since I already read it as such.
"About four years ago (and this time, it really is four years ago), the vault opened, and I dreamed. I dreamed I was in this vast, Baroque, badly-lit library, with a lovely red carpet for a floor, and a well framed set of eggshell-white and ruddy-brown panels for a roof. All of the books were old and covered in dust, and most of them were printed in texts I couldn't understand (one of them, though, had the letter Я on its spine) -- I remember looking for a book, though for what cause, I did not know.
Then, out of the darkness, this doorway opened up to my left -- unlike the rest of the library, it seemed to be lit brightly from a light source on the floor, and the floor wasn't so carpeted. Curious, I entered the room, and saw the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life, reclining on an ancient, Grecian chaise longue, with her two green (or blue, or grey -- but I remember green) eyes locked at me, her two sweet lips smirking, and her hot head of red (dark, auburn red -- she might actually have been a brunette, though, since the light was orange) hair dancing wildly down her back and shoulders. I remember talking to her for a long while, playing verbally with her -- I remember her sweet red dress, I remember my awkward trench coat -- I remember her sitting up, her giving me the deep, intense gist of something -- I remember loving her, right at that moment, as I have never loved anyone yet.
I remember there were many other interesting things in that room: another old, Grecian vase, an oaken desk, a marble bust of some long dead Greek guy, silver and bronze implements of whatever, more books, maybe a globe, a telescope, and a bunch of other knick knacks and paintings -- it was an office, and a very sweet one, very Victorian; it all felt very familiar. And I remember there was a hearth to her right, framed with a large, stone mantle. I remember large glass windows framed by thin boxes of rusting steel above the shelves, on the highest point of the walls below the cornices -- it was night then, until it wasn't night, and my physical body finally sensed that it was the morning. I didn't want to go, but I was woken up anyway, as a great flame consumed everything -- and I remember she was telling me something, and I really, really didn't want her to go, but she did anyway, as did the rest of the library, and I never found the book, and I slowly, very very slowly, woke up, believing it was all a dream.
Until I let it fester in my head, and I realized that her face, her face I remember never having seen before (or, perhaps, since), and I started thinking, believing, remembering that it wasn't just a dream -- that it was a gift from the vault, a revelation, perhaps, or an epiphany or a prophecy, a connection -- a call to adventure, like the one Kamar-al-Zaman received from the efreet in Arabian Nights -- and then that is all. I never found her, and though I have had many opportunities to look for her, I don't think finding a literal dream-woman is a reasonable thing to do in today's reasonable world. So, I waste away now, filled with a supernatural longing only the supernatural can satisfy, and that is all."
Biggest dream I've ever had is quite a story. A simple story, the dream itself, but how it affected me is, well, borderline delusion. Or maybe it ain't really a delusion, since I already read it as such.
"About four years ago (and this time, it really is four years ago), the vault opened, and I dreamed. I dreamed I was in this vast, Baroque, badly-lit library, with a lovely red carpet for a floor, and a well framed set of eggshell-white and ruddy-brown panels for a roof. All of the books were old and covered in dust, and most of them were printed in texts I couldn't understand (one of them, though, had the letter Я on its spine) -- I remember looking for a book, though for what cause, I did not know.
Then, out of the darkness, this doorway opened up to my left -- unlike the rest of the library, it seemed to be lit brightly from a light source on the floor, and the floor wasn't so carpeted. Curious, I entered the room, and saw the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life, reclining on an ancient, Grecian chaise longue, with her two green (or blue, or grey -- but I remember green) eyes locked at me, her two sweet lips smirking, and her hot head of red (dark, auburn red -- she might actually have been a brunette, though, since the light was orange) hair dancing wildly down her back and shoulders. I remember talking to her for a long while, playing verbally with her -- I remember her sweet red dress, I remember my awkward trench coat -- I remember her sitting up, her giving me the deep, intense gist of something -- I remember loving her, right at that moment, as I have never loved anyone yet.
I remember there were many other interesting things in that room: another old, Grecian vase, an oaken desk, a marble bust of some long dead Greek guy, silver and bronze implements of whatever, more books, maybe a globe, a telescope, and a bunch of other knick knacks and paintings -- it was an office, and a very sweet one, very Victorian; it all felt very familiar. And I remember there was a hearth to her right, framed with a large, stone mantle. I remember large glass windows framed by thin boxes of rusting steel above the shelves, on the highest point of the walls below the cornices -- it was night then, until it wasn't night, and my physical body finally sensed that it was the morning. I didn't want to go, but I was woken up anyway, as a great flame consumed everything -- and I remember she was telling me something, and I really, really didn't want her to go, but she did anyway, as did the rest of the library, and I never found the book, and I slowly, very very slowly, woke up, believing it was all a dream.
Until I let it fester in my head, and I realized that her face, her face I remember never having seen before (or, perhaps, since), and I started thinking, believing, remembering that it wasn't just a dream -- that it was a gift from the vault, a revelation, perhaps, or an epiphany or a prophecy, a connection -- a call to adventure, like the one Kamar-al-Zaman received from the efreet in Arabian Nights -- and then that is all. I never found her, and though I have had many opportunities to look for her, I don't think finding a literal dream-woman is a reasonable thing to do in today's reasonable world. So, I waste away now, filled with a supernatural longing only the supernatural can satisfy, and that is all."