I was watching a movie on television except I was inside of it – not participating in it but just within it. I saw a man – a warrior – wearing odd, intricate armor with a detailed headpiece like something out of a fantasy novel. He was walking along a most peculiar sort of bridge – a long, slender thing that turned and twisted across the dark surroundings much like a pathway. This odd bridge was made out of a kind of reddish-brown rock and dirt that matched the twisted mountains in the background. However, the most unique aspect of this bridge were the arches that curved over it – built of the same rock material. The setting was such that this intriguing bridge looked not a touch out of place – it fit in perfectly with the dark tones of the sky and the deep red hues of lava that flowed beneath it, covering the entire land. I got a close-up view of the warrior and saw that he was upon a horse – a white one with an elaborate bridle. Suddenly, the man lifted his face to the skies, alerted of a possible threat of danger, and his headpiece moved mechanically over the sides of his face as he prepared for a potential combat.
The next thing I remember, he was standing at the foot of a waterfall. The sky was clear and a leafy, green forest showed itself at the edge of the blue waters. He was standing within these waters, up to his waist, his helmet off and his long, dark hair hanging in damp, wild strands around a toughened face. His features were not particularly good-looking […]. He did not seem like the warm, genuine character he is often portrayed as – but instead, like a man hardened by his life, void of any ability to express warmth and affection. His heart was full of vengeance […], for his younger brother had been murdered. In front of him, his sister appeared – a beautiful woman in red, flowing garments, also standing in the waters at the base of the falls. I remember she had long, red hair intertwined with silken ribbons. She tried to persuade him not to seek vengeance for, I think, the perpetrators were also family. But the man (Hercules, I now realized) showed no signs of complying.
Suddenly, I saw a giant orca leap from the waters, ascending into the air. Then I was inside of a cave looking out. There were two men inside – the perpetrators who were scrambling about as the orca appeared at the mouth of the cave followed immediately by a wall of water which blocked the cave’s entrance, trapping the two men within. The water did not spill itself into the cave but simply remained where it was, as if behind great glass panes. I watched as the orca swam away – a dark silhouette within a deep ocean.
The rest of the dream involved the two brothers trying to escape from their prison […]. At one point, I think I became one of the brothers – or perhaps, briefly, I remember once thinking myself Hercules. Trying to find my escape, I recall climbing out of the cave, along its steep sides. I think I was looking for a way to rescue my brother who was still waiting for me inside – for the plan was for me to return. I remember clinging to the slippery, moss-covered rocks, making my way around until I was almost to the cave’s mouth, when I came upon shelves of books which I felt compelled to rescue. I tried carrying them by the armloads but they fell to the ground and I was only able to salvage one – Le Petit Prince. I dashed back to the cave and slid it onto a shelf but I saw that I already had a copy of it. I might’ve taken it out again – I don’t remember – but I think I tried convincing my brother to help me rescue the books. As we were attempting to do so, the cave began to collapse. We were clinging to the outside of it, trying to salvage the last of the books – only the cave no longer appeared to be a cave, but instead, appeared more like an ancient Greek structure with white pillars – much smaller, though, almost diminutive in comparison to the actual buildings. This structure started to cave in, the pillars crumbling and the roof threatening to fall in. With all my strength, I held it up – just a second longer, so the books could be evacuated. I was Hercules, I could do it, I thought.
I don’t remember whether or not my brother and I succeeded, for that is all I could recall of the dream.