dreaming again

This is just another one of those dreams. I know it’s not real. It still feels so real when I first open my eyes that I have a hard time telling reality and dream apart. It all just feels so real but I don’t feel that earthy connection I always sense when I’m awake, when I’m in the garden or out in the park or playing with the cats. When I’m awake, I something, I don’t really have a term for it. I don’t know if I’m the only one who feels it. If it might have to do with what I am or what I’m not in the end.

It might just but I don’t know who to ask. Eoghan said something about Alexis being the oldest of us four, maybe he would have some information or some what to know what I really am. I guess I know how Quentin feels at times, not knowing exactly or or what he is. I only feel this way in my dreams though. That earthy connection isn’t there but there’s something else, like this place is where I really was born and I can’t explain it.

It doesn’t really feel any different from Dunkerque at this point, at least not in the general sense. There is grass and there is the sky though at times I swear I can see the sky waver as if it wasn’t completely solid. There’s no way for me to reach out and touch it so I can only try to imagine that since this is a dream, my imagination is supplying me with these strange sort of sensations and views.

When I walk on the path I ‘land’ when I wake up in this dream, I come to a fork in the road. I’ve walked both at length. At times I’ve done nothing but walk in these dreams. One fork leads to a home of sorts. I’m not sure what to call it. It almost looks like a castle but it looks like it was carved out of the mountain face. From the front I can see doors and windows and the top of the rock face. So maybe it’s more a really large cliff than a mountain, I don’t know. I’ve never gone inside that place before.

The other fork leads me to barren lands, to rock and more rock. Like I’m about to step into a cave but there’s no ceiling, just the at-times wavering sky. The more I walk the barren lands, the more it seems like there is nothing there but eventually I come to a large body of dark water. I haven’t gone into the water either. I feel like it would swallow me whole and never spit me out again.

I’m at the ‘house’ now, whatever term I should use for it. I walk forward, put my hand to the oversized door, thinking that at this size I’ll never be able to get in and I take a moment to study the rather intricate designs on it. They make no sense to me at this point. I push just lightly, barely at the door and it eases open inward without so much as a protest from the hinges.

It really looks like it was carved out of the stone face of the wall and I can’t help but catch my breath. I thought the designs on the doors had been intricate but the whole carving is breath-taking. When you think cave you think at times rough edges or smoothed-by-rain edges but this… this was like someone had build a house and then just painted everything rock coloured. I’ve never seen anything as detailed as what was I was seeing.

There is a slight wardrobe on the left, a small wooden bench just there as if they expected people to have to sit down to maybe change out of their winter shoes to not track snow inside. It’s strange to imagine snow in a world like this. I haven’t seen a single hint of a cloud in the wavering sky. Then again I suppose that this season is like the summer season we’ve having in Dunkerque, or maybe it’s the beginning of autumn. That is what we’re working with when I’m awake after all. The colours starting to shift. It’s beautiful but not half as beautiful as this.

At the end of what I assume is the entrance, the foyer maybe, there are a couple of staircases though they both lead to the same second floor that I can see from here. There are hallways on either side leading to I still don’t know where. I don’t want to explore too far and get lost, though I guess I’ll wake up anyway once I have slept enough.

So I take the stairs, I head up to the second floor and from there if I look back I realize that one of the hallways has a hidden staircase leading to a part of the second floor that does not seem accessible from the main one. Maybe next time. I know there’s going to be a next time, I’ve had this dream more and more often as time goes by. I suppose I should tell Quentin but tell him what, that I dream about a world that’s like ours but different? I don’t know what he would think.

I don’t much dare explore the rooms on either side of the stairs though there is one at the end of the very hall and its door is open. It is grand, for a room that essentially has no window to look out to. Though it is clear and I see no source of light. As if the room itself had its own invisible fireplace or light-bulb or something. The room has a small circular staircase and I head up. I don’t know how many floors this place has, from the outside view I recall windows that seemed to span five or six floors but I could have been wrong.

If memory serves me right at this point, this small staircase has brought me to the third floor. It’s a simple room, like an infant’s room almost. There is a crib in one corner with slightly fluttering curtains. When I look up I can’t help but notice things I hadn’t before. There are slight holes at wide intervals on the ceiling. I look down and they’re the same. Tiny things, who knows, it might be for air circulation. I can’t imagine that air would circulate so well in a place carved out of a rock wall.

I will myself to wander the halls a while more. I head back down to the second floor, looking down extra hallways and staircases. At one point I’m back to the front of the house since I can see through one of the small windows that I recall having noticed while I’d been outside. What catches my attention before long, however, is the soft sound of music coming from one of the rooms not far from where I’m currently standing. So I stay quiet, listen and head that way. It seems the best solution after all. I hadn’t heard anything else to that point and I feel like I’ve been wandering for hours, my legs have begun to tell me that they do ache.

The music comes from a large, airy room. I’m not sure where it is at seeing as it seems to open to air at the back. I don’t recall walking that deeply into the whole place that I would be at the other edge of the rock wall. Still, I don’t question myself too much, I just step in and take stock. The wide balcony with the breeze ruffling the sheer curtains, the bed against one wall with its own sheer curtains flowing lightly on the draft. There’s a hand peeking from the side of that curtain and this startles me. I hadn’t heard or seen anything or anyone yet in these dreams.

So I step closer, carefully. I don’t want to wake or disturb the person resting there. I stop by the curtain and carefully brush it aside. I can only scream at the sight that greets me. I close my eyes.

When I open them I’m staring at the worried face of Quentin, sitting at me side, shaking my shoulders lightly as he tries to pull me up from the dream I was having, more like nightmare at this point. I can only move towards him and huddle in his arms. I hadn’t seen this particular face in my dreams for a long enough time at this point, I hadn’t wanted to see it again. “It was Sterling, he was in my dreams and he was bleeding out and I just…”

It’s easier to just cry and let it out.

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