The Falls, the Gallery, and the Drones

I had a hard time trying to go to sleep last night and it greatly frustrated me.  And so I guess that was why I dreamt about trying to fall asleep but being unable to.  I was wandering across a mountainous terrain of white rocks broken quite occasionally by beautiful, cascading waterfalls and pools of water.  I remember I was looking for something beneath these elusive beds of small, delicate flowers – some engraving, I think.  The flower beds were odd in that when I reached them on a white rock face next to a clear pool, they would appear and I could lift up the entire bed like a blanket to peek beneath it.  But as soon as I moved away, the flowers blended their pale colors into the white rock on which they grew and thus disappeared.

I crawled along these rocks among all these streams and waterfalls until I [lay] down upon one of the rocks, beneath a blanket of some sorts – perhaps it was beneath one of those clear, almost invisible, flower beds.  I remember thinking that if I looked under my blanket, I’d see a stream of water running just past my feet and a bunch of flowers next to my lower leg.  I pulled up my blanket to peek beneath it, and indeed this was the way it was – I was sleeping on white rock with a stream and flowers beneath my blanket.

But I kept tossing and turning and couldn’t fall asleep.  I then found myself in a house I’ve never seen before but that I recognised as my house in the dream.  I was trying to sleep on the couch in the living room – a dark room with a tall ceiling and a large fireplace set with clocks.  I remember there being pillars somewhere and a dark kitchen on the other side of a counter.

I then had to go to school.  I remember having to go on a field trip, I think, to see an art museum – a fellow student’s work in particular.  Going through the hallways was odd – like a rollercoaster ride through wooden, mining tunnels – very convoluted but not quite as dark as mining tunnels would be.  It was sort of like I was riding on one of those carts used to transport coal in mines.  But I remember colors and other people whizzing by me.  […]

I arrived in a main gallery room – with quite a few display cases and a head sculpture swirled with shades of purple.  It was a grotesque piece, with many faces on the head – I remember I had a sort of repulsion towards it.  This was the fellow student’s art piece – propped up on a white pedestal in the middle of the room.  Another girl from my high school was also at the gallery – one whom I wasn’t quite close friends with – I cannot remember who it was or if she exists in real life at all.  But I [went] up to this girl and I asked her how much sleep she got the night before.  She answered something which I have now forgotten and then returned my question.  “None!” I said.  “I am so tired!”  I thought I had just kept tossing and turning all night for about seven hours.

The next thing I remember, I think I was some strange, nymph-like creature flying around in a sort-of grey, wooded terrain in a square path – or a square room that was truly not a room at all.  I flew fast and deft[ly] – maneuvering beneath bare branches and over grey, fallen logs.

When I stopped, I was in a small house – with a typical appearance – white-washed walls and the usual furnishing.  But the many people who filled it weren’t all truly people and neither was I – although we appeared so from the outside.  We had a master who was derived from me and from this master […] derived all his other followers.  Our job was to protect him and serve him – but I think we were part of some larger operation, some larger goal, or purpose.  There were those among us who were truly part of the enemy and who sought to kill our master.

Once, one of the people in the house leapt forward to destroy the master, but several of his followers stepped forward and annihilated him with supernatural powers – a glow of pink sparking from their raised palms.  I stood by and watched – weaker of the followers even though they were, in truth, all derived from me – even the master.  Suddenly, another murder attempt was made on the master’s life – a man in a dark suit, plunging through the crowds with a large, bloody knife – a strange sort of medieval ax with an intricate blade.  Directly in front of me, he lunged towards the master with the ax raised above his head.  Gasping, I leapt forward and grabbed the man’s grip on his ax, struggling desperately with him.  Petrified I was that he would send the blade into my heart as he seemed to be winning the struggle while the other followers looked on with stone faces and robotic postures.  I cried out that they should help me.  I think it was the master who finally commanded that they do so – and they utilized their powers to destroy the attacker.

I then found myself in the kitchen, sitting cross-legged on the counter in front of the master and several other followers who were all preparing a meal – chopping vegetables in particular.  The master was the only one who acted human – the other followers all seemed very robotic – like mindless drones, with very precise, perfect movements […].  I was complaining to the master about how none of the other followers lifted a finger to help me.  “Well,” said he in an almost casual manner, “if you’d get a figure.”  He was commenting on the shape of my body – or lack of shape, rather.

It was sort of a casual conversation and I was half-joking when I said, “What!  I have figure!  Why, look at – she doesn’t have as good a figure as I and yet – !”  I indicated one of the followers who was bringing an armload of vegetables to the counter.  Then the drones all began to chop the veggies – extremely fast and precise in their work so that I was taken aback and dismayed at their ability – that I could never work up to their level.

I remember once pleading with the master, saying something like, “Have pity on me, whose body you once inhabited.”

The entire drone house had quite a disquieting feel to it – very white and bare were the walls.  There was more to it, I’m sure, but I cannot recall […].  I think I remember something about the ax-murderer being locked in the basement or in one of those underground shelters you enter from the outside of the house – or perhaps it was me locked away.  I also vaguely remember blood somewhere – standing out in its red hue amongst the white house. […]

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A Fallen Fairy and Flowers

I was watching this dream the way I watch many of my dreams.  I was inside of a cave – a rather large one whose walls glowed red and hot.  In the center of it, the ground fell out to reveal a deep chasm that burned with fire and scorching embers.  Seemingly nailed high up on the cave walls were […] fairies – thin, delicate, pretty creatures – all hung in a row that encircled the cave.  And from the ceiling there grew the strangest organism – the master of this cave – a thing that was half plant, half animal – tremendously large, nearly filling its entire cave.  It was like a mammoth spider that hung from the ceiling, except instead of legs, it had branches filled with the most beautiful flowers that possessed all sorts of colors and had parts that shimmered and glowed when caught at the right angles.  These branches came in bundles and hung limply like willow wands – each bundle grew its own kind of exotic flower so the flowers were the same within bundles but different from other clusters of flowers.  The organism was able to move its flowery limbs in a circle around the cave so that the flowers brushed across the fairies hanging on the walls.

There were two fairies who weren’t hung to the sides of the cave, and they stood at the small entrance […] that was connected to a tunnel.  The flower organism told them to bring water before it moved its limbs in a full circle around the cave or else it would kill one of the fairies on the wall.  […] the limp flower branches began to move; a bundle of flowered willow wands parted and engulfed a wall fairy within its colorful jaws as if to eat it.  But the organism was only playing, and it withdrew its deadly flowers from around its victim, leaving it unharmed.  Then this giant being moved its limbs and did the same to the next fairy and then to the next – all the while, slowly turning in a circle.  Finally, it got to the last fairy and parted its flowery wands, engulfing the delicate thing within a smother of beautiful, magic flowers.  The fairies on the ground cried, “Quick!  Where’s the water!  Bring it!  Bring it!”  The water had been right outside the entrance all along, but only now, at the very last minute, did they scurry to lug it into the cave in a pail.  However, it was too late.  The organism removed its flowers from around the fairy – and it was as if strings had been cut, for she fell from the wall and into the mouth of the burning chasm below.

[…] they fed the organism the water before somehow pulling the fallen fairy from the depths of the chasm.  She was unconscious – perhaps dead – as she [lay] there on the ground at the edge of the chasm.  She was a very pretty thing, with golden hair and a shimmering golden dress.  There was some water still left in the pail and the other ground fairies (there were now several of them) scurried to try to revive her with it.  It was some sort of magical water and I remember thinking as I looked on, Now that they have the water, they could do it – they could do anything.  But they […] couldn’t revive the fallen fairy.

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Forest of Death

I was standing in the middle of what looked like a dead forest – the bare remnants of some catastrophic fire.  But the trees weren’t burned, or charred, just dead and gray – like a bomb had exploded not far away and left in its wake these bare, silent sticks that rose into the air or fell naked across the ground.  And everywhere there were scattered dead people whose bodies were pierced through by the limbs of the trees – and thus they hung still in their death, with cold, gray branches stabbing through them – through their bellies, through their hearts, through their shoulders – like a most ghastly, grotesque, and twisted crucifixion.

I was aware that a young lady had brought me here – she was not with me but I could feel her presence almost like a ghostly image.  She was wearing green attire – a green, short-sleeved shirt with a long, green skirt that was intricately patterned and made of what seemed like a light, translucent fabric over a darker silk material.  She reminded me of a fairy.

But she was only a light image – very faint and brief in her presence – and I was alone in that forest filled with gruesome death.  I looked around for a moment at the bodies all around me – blue and decayed with dark rings of dried blood surrounding the places where the branches had [bored] holes clear through the flesh – and I screamed. […]

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