Friday, 16 August 2013

Dreamscape: Lifetime

So... this is a bit of an unusual one. I am currently working on a novel, and it struck me that the parts that I enjoyed writing the most were the dream sequences. So I thought to myself... why not just do a fun old dream sequence? So that is what I did. Turned out kind of dark in places, but overall I think you can appreciate what i'm going for. So yeah...

A-Is for Abandonment: Alone in a vast plane of emptiness and darkness. A
Baby, crying and starving on the ground, its tiny lungs gasping for the air it is deprived of, its miniscule hands reaching out for the touch of another human being- someone- anyone. Now it is fumbling, falling through the vapid emptiness of space, only to land in the empty seat of a
Car. The baby is in the passenger seat, in the driver’s seat is a man with a look of desperation and concerned etched upon his face, a sweat upon his brow and a tear threatening to drop from his eye. He is trying to start the engine- so determined, and so destined to fail. He looks to the horizon ahead of him and my eyes follow his, and as I look I see light beginning to trickle into the darkness-
Dawn is breaking. On closer inspection however I see the landscape littered with the walking
Dead. A hand clasps tightly onto my shoulder. I turn to see two pairs of dead eyes gazing at me, I instinctively know that they are the baby’s parents. They do not linger for long. They simply request I take caution on the road ahead. The whole scene shifts and suddenly I’m standing on an
Escalator, but I’m going the wrong way. The escalator is going down, but I’m struggling ahead. I persist, sweat dripping from my brow, knowing I must fight the tide, but not knowing why. Some thought buried deep inside my head has morphed into fact, and the fact is that something is waiting for me ahead and that something is leading me onwards. The escalator suddenly begins to drop, the steps becoming level and still at my feet. There is a boy ahead. He is reading a
Fable to himself, speaking the words out loud. The book he is reading from is beautifully crafted and the pages are a brilliant white, but the words he is speaking are morbid and curious. I begin to wonder whether he is reading the story of my life, but the notion strikes me as ridiculous. The scene around the boy and myself begins to shift once again. Trees grow ominously tall and dark, imposing on us both, but the boy barely seems to notice. I see a trail make itself known through the newly constructed forest, and somewhere in the distance I can see an old, dreary, worn out, decrepit
Gate, swinging open and then shut. I follow the trail and pass through the dismal gate, the hinges screech and I wince at the sound, as my ears protest the sudden rise in pitch. The forest begins to thicken and the trail becomes more and more obscure. Fear begins to consume me, I feel bile rise in my throat as my stomach acid begins to boil. In the distance I hear a faint, but haunting,
Howl. Maybe it is all in my mind, but I feel the wolves closing in on me, their feral eyes leering at me through the underbrush, their teeth bared, ready to gnarl, gnash and gnaw on my flesh. Then the
Insects begin to buzz around me. I have disturbed their nest, and now they are seeking vengeance. Fighting my way through the endless onslaught of the forest’s weapons, I realise that the wood around me is no longer in the form of trees, but exquisitely carved and crafted benches and desks and stands. I am in a courtroom. The buzz that previously belonged to the insects now belongs to the crowd and the jury, and is eerily similar. I stand in front of them all and look up at the imposing
Judge. I hear the jury tutting and sighing and silently but surely judging me. The judge is speaking nonsense, but his tone clearly conveys his disgust and disapproval. It all becomes too much, suddenly the buzz in room grows louder, and the temperature increases, and the room gets smaller, and I cannot take anymore. I see myself- an adolescent- jump from the box in which I was sat, and
Kill the judge with a blade. The buzz becomes a roar and the whole room becomes chaos. Everyone lurches for my adolescent self, but before any of their prying hands reach me I stab the knife through my heart. Through the devastation, much to my relief, out of the corner of my eye, I spy a
Ladder. There is a woman there, holding it steady for me to climb, and she smiles, her teeth gleaming white. I climb up, out of the mess and the madness, into a place where it is constantly
Midnight. I look around at the scene. A clearing littered with candles, all burning brightly, and radiating warmth. As I walk however I become aware that my feet are bare. I realise I am
Naked and exposed. I begin to search for clothes, but there is nothing in the surrounding area aside from trees and candles. My eyes adjust to the dark and I see bodies on the ground. They are moving. All of them intertwined with each other, squirming, wriggling; limbs wrapped around limbs, lips pressed together. The cold, night air is filled with the sound of moaning and hushed whispering. The
Orgy I have found myself in is odd to me, although my nakedness somehow now seems far more appropriate, and I am comfortable with myself. In the middle of the clearing, out of nowhere, a
Podium rises from the ground. Feeling more comfortable than ever- I step up to it- above the mass of bodies below and I begin to speak. Just as I open my mouth however, I spy another podium in the distance. There is a figure stood at this podium just as I am, high above the people below. A
Queen. I squint to try and see her better in the darkness. I spy a heart, stitched into her dress. I suddenly become struck with fear and step down. As I do I trip and fall to the cold ground where a
Rabbit, white and energetic, bounds past my face at an unnatural speed. I crawl across the ground following the rabbits trail. It take forever- or almost a minute- to arrive at a small, sandy cave that is illuminated by an unseen light source. I look around and immediately feel at home. I know this is a
Safe Haven. I must leave some time however; I cannot linger in this haven forever, lest I forget what is really outside. I stay for as long as I can, enjoying the warm, salty, night breeze and the sound of the sea gently falling against the sand. I watch the playful shadows dance against the roof of the cavern and feel at peace. I have to leave. As I step foot outside the cave I am immediately shoved to the ground, it takes me some time to realise what has happened, but it becomes clear that a
Thief has stolen something precious from me. Not knowing what has been stolen, but certain that something has, I pursue the shadow that is bolting away from me along the beach. Just as I am about to reach him, he changes course and begins to run into the sea. I follow him into the depths,
Underwater, the shadow continues on into the darker blue regions of the ocean. I pursue him further until eventually he relinquishes the item that he stole. The photograph of my parents drifts past me, and then begins to float towards the surface, out of my reach, lost forever. The shadow is gone, but I am still deeply submerged. I look through the murky water; imbedded into a rock I see a
Valve. I have an insatiable desire to turn it. I swim to through the heavy waters that are bearing down on me and wrap my hands around the cold metal wheel. With great difficulty I begin to turn it, with a loud, satisfying ‘click’ the water from the ocean begins to drain. I see the surface rapidly approaching me from above- I close my eyes. When I open them again, there is sunlight, I’m in a
Warzone, with the heat from above bearing down on me and the sound of gunfire blazing through the air. I run through the turbulent atmosphere. Bombs, bullets, shouting, screaming, blood, sweat, heat- I can feel them all, shooting towards me like I am their primary target. I manage to locate a tent and quickly manoeuvre my way inside. There are several officer and generals stood around a map. I pick myself up from the ground, covered in dust and dripping with sweat. I look at the map.
‘X’ marks the spot. The map doesn’t resemble anything even remotely sophisticated, it is instead a hand-drawn map of a series of islands, with a giant ‘X’ blotted on one of the land masses. Confused, I step outside of the tent, hoping the air will clear my head. The scene has once again changed. The heat has remained, but I am no longer at the centre of a warzone. I am on a beach, on a tropical island. The water is terrifically clear- I can see all the rocks and fish beneath it. In the cove is a large
Yacht, which is evidently mine. I look into the sky and see that it is littered with an army of
Zephyr planes. I begin to laugh, and spread my arms wide, feeling the tropical breeze wash over me. I’m suddenly an old man, with his wrinkled, old feet submerged in the sand, but I feel overall contentment.

And then I wake up. 

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