Dream Stub: Interception?
Tuesday, 23 August 2011 08:50 pmLast night's dream involved some sort of complicated secret plot. I have a gnattering it had religious and/or political overtones, but I can't remember the specifics.
What I do remember is that, at several points when I was evading or searching for enemy agents, a voice called to the dreaming me, "Fra Angelico! Over here!"
I turned and saw a hole in reality, a rectangle with sharply defined lines, as if someone had taken a subtle knife and cut a door into the living, breathing world like it was a backdrop. Inside the door was pure white with no distinction between floor, wall and ceiling except what looked like a row of black ladders with rounded, stylized supports; it was the behind-the-scenes machinery of reality, and I was being offered an escape from my pursuers there, or a shortcut through it.
I resisted. I didn't know who was calling out to me, or why, and I suspected their priorities were not compatible with my current mission.
I have a neighbor named Angela; my windows face south so the afternoon light is wickedly bright, even with the white blinds; and my hammock is black, with angles not unlike a ladder. It's entirely likely that someone decided to look Angela up midday and I stirred just enough for this to remold my dreams.
But I still wonder what they wanted with me, and why I was a crime-fighting saint.
What I do remember is that, at several points when I was evading or searching for enemy agents, a voice called to the dreaming me, "Fra Angelico! Over here!"
I turned and saw a hole in reality, a rectangle with sharply defined lines, as if someone had taken a subtle knife and cut a door into the living, breathing world like it was a backdrop. Inside the door was pure white with no distinction between floor, wall and ceiling except what looked like a row of black ladders with rounded, stylized supports; it was the behind-the-scenes machinery of reality, and I was being offered an escape from my pursuers there, or a shortcut through it.
I resisted. I didn't know who was calling out to me, or why, and I suspected their priorities were not compatible with my current mission.
I have a neighbor named Angela; my windows face south so the afternoon light is wickedly bright, even with the white blinds; and my hammock is black, with angles not unlike a ladder. It's entirely likely that someone decided to look Angela up midday and I stirred just enough for this to remold my dreams.
But I still wonder what they wanted with me, and why I was a crime-fighting saint.