In the dream, you are in an ice
cave. It is starkly beautiful, suffused in blue light from an outside source. There’s
nothing to eat, no sustenance, just the angular planes of ice crystals. It is stunningly
cold, well below freezing. Your breath billows in front of you; perspiration forms
a frozen rind on your neck. You can’t stay here long. Then you notice creatures
working industriously along the far wall of the cave. They’re oblivious to the intense
cold. From the strange smell you guess that they have antifreeze running through
their veins. This place is clearly their home.
Then you awake. Not to your bed,
but to another strange world. You are on the shores of a river, with canyon walls
that rise up and disappear in the gloom. The river is acrid and filled with the
worst kind of industrial effluent. The water is so acidic that it sizzles as it
passes over the rocks, which are themselves discolored by chemical residue. The
smell is foul and metallic and it almost makes you gag. As your eyes get used to
the twilight, you see shadowy figures in the water. Amazingly, they are unperturbed
by the toxic environment. Some of them are splashing and playing, some are drinking
the water, and others are gathering lumps of metal from the sediment on the river
bank. The scene would be idyllic is if were not so bizarre.
You wake again, with a start. But
you are still not in your room. You’re encased in a metal shell, something like
a submersible. A porthole in front of you is made of glass several inches thick;
you sense the phenomenal pressure of water beyond. By your hand there’s a switch.
Flicking it illuminates a fantastic scene beyond the porthole: smoky fumaroles emerging
from fissures where the magma glows dull red, and rocks crusted with colorful minerals
and crystals. The water shimmers with intense heat and you can feel it leeching
into the submersible; this is another place you cannot stay long. Wonder and claustrophobia
are warring within you. Then you notice graceful creatures gliding through the gloom.
They are translucent in this place where sunlight never reaches. They graze at the
edge of the deep-sea vent, just yards from a seam that reaches down miles into the
crust. You sense that they have lived here for eons.
You wake once more. This time it
is to the familiar landscape of your bedroom. You marvel at the lucidity of the
dream; the real world seems a bit disappointing by comparison. Another realization
hits you. In your dream you had been miraculously shrunk to microscopic size. The
tableaus you explored would pass unnoticed in the everyday world.
Then you awake.