A little something I wrote in class in first year.
I had a dream last night...
... where it was pitch black and as cold as a dream could imagine. There is nothing to hear. After a few minutes of aimless wandering, I hear something like the clicking of a lighter, fire emanating from the thin, silver instrument. The light is not a great deal, a weak, small flame, but it is worth walking towards.
The closer I get to the lighter, suspended in thin air, the brighter it feels. I hear a pulsating whooshing sound and everything goes white. It burns my eyes, the pain becoming almost unbearable. I wonder why I’m not hastening to cover my eyes from the visual smoulder.
As soon as I cover my eyes I hear what could be glass breaking, except the sound of its shattering is magnified, shards of white light scattering like a slow hailstorm around me. The shattering sound still echoes in the atmosphere, its ghostlike wail ringing in my ears.
The shards scattered around me still glow like luminous crystals. Everything has returned to black apart from the blinks of light dotted on the floor; so again, I wander without direction, crushing the strewn debris with my feet, the ‘crunch crunch crunch’ following thereafter. The time taken for the sound to reach my ears is peculiar, as if there was lag between sound and light, the resonant ‘crunch’ sound of the remaining shards still echoing without origin. My feet bleed as I walk on the debris. I want to whimper with pain, but I’m not capable of speech.
I pick up one of the remaining specks and examine it closely. It could be a crystal of light, maybe it has all the answers I need. I have little time to ponder as the shard stops glowing and as if in a sonata of silence, so do the rest of them. Again, I do not know why I am dreaming this, nor do I recognise its importance. Maybe it is worth contemplating over once I am awake.
I walk again. I feel faint; it’s possible the loss of blood from my feet has made me lethargic. I guess I’ve made a lot of bloody footprints with this endless trekking. Such a tiresome dream. When will this end?
I stare down at the darkness, willing for some change in the atmosphere. I then hear the sound of slow droning. It reminds me of rusted gunmetal. This puts me at unease, as repetitive chimes abruptly illuminate the room. Where is the source of light coming from? I recognise the faded red trails on the smooth floor as my own. Again, the incessant change begins, only this time it is the floor which begins to crumble. Nothing will help me, so I submit myself to the unknown and close my eyes.
The sound of shattering echoes and I fall. As if I am descending into the core of my subconscious, I open my eyes and spread my body downwards and then close them, succumbing to the darkness. I see any no form of civilisation here, and I realise I am not falling, but flying. It feels windy but my ears do not get the rushing, soaring roar or the howling of the wind.
The air seems to be more controlled now, with my body soaring down the darkness... well, not complete darkness, as I see a blip of white in the horizon. I assume this is where my destination is, as my body feels more at peace, and the ‘wind’ has died down. I fly through the emergent spot of light and arrive within seconds. The light causes me to fade out for a while, until I recuperate my senses.
Darkness. This time, I decide not to walk, for aimless wandering leads to unfulfilling conclusions. I stay at this very spot, arms folded, not moving. Minutes pass like this, or was it hours? Maybe seasons? I’m not sure. The atmosphere dislikes, nay, hates this notion, and I feel its anger towards me. I fear its torment, and it smells my fear. Within seconds, the darkness is replaced with a sweltering red neon aura. I am circled by symmetrical flames, they surround me and dance feverishly. Everything spins until I pass out...
...and then my dream ended. What just happened?
