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Tetch's Dreams

Dreamer: Tetch, unknown which one
Date: 05/28/2014
Where dream occured: Many places
Interpretation included: Unsure, just re-scribing.
The following are records of several dreams I had relating to the subject.
Some of the significance is easy to determine, some requires a bit more introspection, and some are a mystery to me.

Dream of the Library:

The room molds itself into a temple to the Kal... frowning, she sets her mind to a different image. It takes her a long time to manage it...

A library.

Unlike Reeve's, this place has slightly more comfortable accommodations. The main 'room' where she is has a desk, a comfortable chair, adequate reading light. The ceiling has the glass that normally accompanies the room. Spokes of hallways, lined with books wind off in eight different directions. When she is more satisfied with the effort, she allows herself to pace the halls for a while, letting her fingers wander over the bindings, not really looking at the titles or anything. She makes it familiar to herself, she makes it hers, she makes it safe.

Eventually, she comes back to the center to rest a while.

Standing, she goes to the stacks, letting her hands fall on the tomes.

"Explain to me how the aspect of Nature called Magic was corrupted."

The room shudders and cants to once side unsteadily. Books fall or fly from shelves, pelting her, the walls, the floor and other shelves of books. It sounds like nothing so much as a giant has grabbed hold of the little safe box within the Dreaming that she has made for herself is pawing at it. Groping for a weak spot.
"RUN!" an eerily discordant and familiar voice commands her. It is not a warning. It is a preamble to a threat.
Grabbing hold of a shelf edge and tossing books off of her, she leaps to her feet, agily scrambling on all fours away from the the spot she was in.
Something's inside. Something pervasive. It tickles her mind, groping with sticky little fingers in the dark corners of her mind, flicking long forgotten fears out of the sediments of her subconscious.
Mad with flight and fright she brushes past a richly dressed middle-aged man puttering around with elixers and potions. She hears glass, wood and bone splinter as something comes down hard at her heels, crushing the alchemist.
She hooks an arm out to her left and turns between some shelves, actually running more on a shelf than the floor. Primal terror keeping her moving and sure-footed.
She leaps from the shelf as the room tilts again, catching hold of another which is firmly anchored to the floor which is now a wall relative to her.
There is low, malicious chuckle coming from inside her head, but making the very air shake.
Hauling herself up onto the shelf, carefully stepping on the cherrywood boards rather than the books wedged between, she begins to flee further still.
Jumping a gap between shelves, beneath her she spies, with almost perverse clarity, a yawning abyss of swirling colors, mists, obscure shapes, and arcane postulations written large on nothing more than the fabric of the surreal fog. The very air is alive with energy.
And the whole of it sick with some pattern imbedded in the chaos which makes her head hurt.
She lands, the second shelf disintegrates into component boards and a shower of books. Tumbling, she gropes in all directions for anything to stay her descent. Her shoulder cracks hard into another shelf. Her right shin hits still another. Then, for a miracle her hand hooks through a shelf and she slides, catching splinters all the way but no longer falling uncontrollably.
She dangles, her feet the lowest points over a true chasm of nothingness. The ceiling, now, is an impossibly large maze of mostly empty book shelves: a library turned upside down, emptied, broken.
- ...oh..oo... -
There's a tortured screech as the nails of fastening the end of the board she hangs from start to pull free. Carefully, she clambers up the rungs of the shelves, bringing herself closer to the upturned floor, not really seeing any hope in the situation.
"I'LL HAVE YOU NAME WHEN HE FALLS." The voice assaults the unreal world around her. More books fall.
From the end of the aisle in which she clings, an unfamiliar man strolls along the 'floor' as if he's just wandering a library. Though he isn't looking at the shelves. He's looking her in the eye.
"I'LL HAVE DRAGONSBURROWS NAME AS WELL." It is not the voice of the man walking towards her. Or if it is, he did not physically speak. He's dressed in black robes with red trim and golden threads tracing intricate patterns.
She backs up from the man walking towards her on the ceiling find the end of the shelves rather quickly.
- ...uh...id...oo...oo
The man walking at her opens his mouth as if to shout. In the yawning blackness she again sees that collage of color and energy, objects and writing. Then the mouth snaps shut. And he grins knowingly at her, still advancing.
"The living breathing magic. The ether. Invested in me. I am a god."
He passes right through her.

She wakes up.
Created by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 05-28-14 10:27 AM
Last Modified by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 05-28-14 10:27 AM