I have begun to create narratives around my dreams. The following is an account of one of my most vivid dreams and is put together in a short story format with three separate chapters. These chapters are characterised by my interpretation of the main focus of each dream sequence. I have tried to stay as true to my memory as possible.
Into The Tunnels.
They were reminiscent of an abandoned
subway station. The people who lived there never went outside unless
it was necessary. They were sparsely decorated and whole families
lived in crammed conditions in small makeshift homes. The family I
was living with were humble and very welcoming. They had two young
children with characteristic smudges of dirt on they’re cheeks and
bruises from climbing games.
The Inventor.
The Father of the
house was a solitary creature. He worked away in silence in a small
cupboard like study in a dark corner of the ‘house’. He worked
away by candlelight making what appeared to be mechanical inventions
of some sort. The only sound he made was a deep grunting as he
cleared his throat and a sigh that could only signify contentment
with his creations.
We went on a tour of the subway
tunnels, picking up scrap and collecting all manner of historical
artefacts along the way. We stopped at an intersection where two
tunnels met and a mural was drawn on the wall between. The mural
depicted a train conductor in a royal blue uniform and embroidered
cap. His eyes, like his clothes were startlingly bright and his beard
was thick and white with a light scattering of silver grey. Two
figures loomed ominously behind him, one at either side. They both
wore an expression of shock and awe on their indistinguishable faces.
They’re gaze was fixed at a point. They appeared to be looking
towards the tunnel to my immediate right. The entire scene was fixed
inside a decorative frame of red and white squares arranged in an
oval shape around the figures. I followed their gaze to find a
waxwork sculpture depicting the most baffling of scenes.
A man lay on the ground
His face fixed in an
expression of both pain and fear
A fox was tearing at his
flesh
While a woman was sewing
up the gaping wound?
Another waxwork figure stood a few feet
away. He was wearing an array of different fashions from every period
of history imaginable. The mother of the household whispered in my
ear
‘My husband made all of this from
memory’
A Timeless World.
Later, we ventured out of the tunnels
to pick up some supplies. The city seemed, at first to be deserted.
Before long the streets grew busy with people, all dressed much like
the waxwork figures from the tunnels. Some even appeared to be
sporting futuristic attire. The peculiar thing was that everyone
seemed to be wearing some kind of timepiece, from pocket watches to
hourglasses.
The streets were littered with objects,
significant artefacts net to scrap metal, all piled on top of one
another in mountainous heaps. Something shiny caught my eye and I
felt the compulsion to pick it up. The object seemed to be the wrist
and hand of a piece of medieval armour. At the tip of the index
finger something flickered. Lightly at first but then a little
brighter the longer I held it in my hands. A flame, much like the
Bunsen burners we used in science classes in high school. The flame
was at once made of fire and solid glass. The lucid notion that I was
dreaming hit me with a sudden wave of recognition as a passer by
called out to me like a distant inner voice.
‘You must never let this light go
out’