Fog & Trains.

Some months ago: The dream began at an afternoon party in somebody's upscale beach house (though we were nowhere near water). Much of the home and the clothing people wore was white and crisp, though I still felt relatively comfortable in my black lace dress. The party was being thrown by my mother-in-law and her family (all new faces). I was milling around the spacious island that separated the kitchen from the living room, drinking sangria and chatting with her and her sisters. I kept polite but couldn't find much to talk about. After I finished my drink, I set my glass down on the pale, terra-cotta countertop and walked through the back door, passing a number of colorless men in clean suits, lounging around the living room with melting drinks in their hands, on the way.

Outside, I found an endless expanse of dull sand and fog. The sight was still beautiful and the smell of rain and feel of cold fog on my skin was incredibly welcome after the blanched air inside the party. I could see nothing in any direction, but smiled to myself and began walking. After a time, the looming shape of a great, brown brick building came out of the fog. A squat, wide building it was, and I walked around to the side of it and found a doorway inside. Once in, I realized it was an abandoned train station. After the brightness of the foggy sky outside, the station was very dark, windowless, and quiet. There was still a good feeling about the place, and I found a set of old green steps leading up to a partial second floor. Through a crumbling white door, I discovered a small bathroom and sat down on the sagging toilet. As I went to the bathroom, I noticed some reading material piled in a basket on the floor. There were half a dozen faded travel maps, marked here and there in a lovely cursive script. I unfolded one and traced a road with my fingers before putting it back.

After getting up and leaving through a doorway on the opposite side of the place I entered, I was surprised to find the sandy domain full of people. They were all darkly muted and far away, but they were wandering about everywhere. I made my way forward, toward another old train station. This station had a windowed, half-domed roof and was amazingly vast and wide. Opened completely on both ends, I found myself standing in one end, gazing silently at the place. Here, it was night-time, and the windows above were laced with a thousand tiny white lights, strung across the entire ceiling. These little lights were the only illumination for the large building, and gave the whole place a great, magical glow. The hall was teeming with people, so much so that there wasn't an open space to see the floor. Despite this, the station still had a very airy, wide feeling because there was so much space upwards.

I stepped down, onto the floor, and noticed everybody was walking in the same direction- towards me. I heaved a sigh and started to make my way forth, through the throng of people. Every face I saw I recognized: here, an old study partner from college; there, a boyfriend from third grade. As I walked, I tried to make eye contact with all of these forgotten people, but not a single person would look me in the eye. I wasn't bothered, so overtaken with the magic of the station, and continued to make my way through.

Skulls & Stars.

April 20, 2011: A night of confusing dreaming ended up with a short, memorable bit. Through some tangled way, I found myself and a few friends wading through the half-flooded hallways of a junior high school (it was my school in the dream, though it wasn't familiar to me). There were water plants swaying around our legs and animals swimming or flying among us. It seemed normal, and we carried our books above water on our way to class.

In one large, opened room (gymnasium?), there was a giant cage, partially underwater like everything else. I peeked my head inside the opened door and saw a few dejected-looking orangutans. For some reason, I knew, or assumed, the apes in the enclosure wee caged because they were "crazy" and unstable. One, to my right, was obviously very old and seemed incredibly tired and worn down. His fur was gray and black and his eyes were drooped with sadness. To my right, I saw a smaller, younger-looking ape lying across a rope. Her face was also long and weary, and she had a small baby clutching to her underbelly. They both peered over at me with uninterested eyes. After seeing the baby, I wondered why she was able to keep him/ her if she was a lunatic. I shook my head and noticed a small, round, rock-like object float past me in the water. Through the moving surface, I saw a glint of red, and then a brown tamarin quickly darted after the stone. I shrugged my shoulders, left the cage, and returned on my way to class.

Then I went through the same scene again through the eyes of the tamarin, who was hanging about underwater inside the cage. I saw a pair of legs wade to the doorway, saw the blurry outlines of orangutans through the water above, and saw a muddy, skull-shaped stone pass me in the current. There were red-glowing rubies set in each eye socket, and I knew it was immensely valuable. I bounded after it, very at-home in the water. I swam past reeds, logs, legs, and walls. After a corner or two, I quickly caught up with the stone and snatched it up in my small monkey hand.

I kept swimming down a side hallway, which was darker and painted blue. The water was gone, though it felt like my body was still swimming. I chanced a few breaths out of exhaustion and was glad to find that I could inhale, though I kept holding my breath in. There was a window display of a hiker or animal to my left, the only illumination in the hall. A heavy wooden door across from the window was ajar, and I went in. Inside, there were more hallways and doors branched off, and people, busy in work, scurrying this way and that. I noticed a blue counter manned by a young archaeologist in flannel. I approached the counter and said, "I have the livelihood, sir." The man looked up at me, his brown eyes burning. He swept his long hair out of his face and asked to see it. I felt in my pocket for the skull and came out with a mug of hot, swirling tea. I could see ash in the tea; the skull had been burned or crushed into powder and added to the water. I set the mug down on the counter between us, and he non-chalantly thanked me, picked it up, and walked off.

I shook my head again, feeling very small, and turned to a little table set up next to the counter. Covered in a decorative fabric, it displayed a few dusty pamphlets, a small, opened pouch, and a dish full of tiny charms. Curious, I used my finger to tip the pouch toward me, and found that it was full of ash similar to the stuff in the tea. The charms were very old-looking in antiqued bronze and depicted small sets of constellations. On the pamphlets, I could also see illustrations of constellations. I soon realized the powder in the pouch was the ash of ancient, incinerated constellations. I dusted my hands off and left through the doorway.