Gently Down the Stream

[poliphilo]

I had a dream the other night where I found myself in a country house with a moat around it. Someone was talking to me. "Do you know what this place is called?" they asked. I knew I knew, but I couldn't quite get hold of it. "The Interpreter's House," I ventured, "something beginning with an 's'".

And then it dawned on me that I'd been coming to the house at intervals for a long, long time, and that this was my real life. The people in the house were teaching me, training me. I felt so happy.

The rest of the dream involved an initiation ceremony. First I had to pretend to cut the throat of a tiger. Then I had to run an obstacle course with my eyes bandaged with red gauze.

I passed all these tests triumphantly.

I woke and there were lights flashing in the bedroom. Only there weren't. I guess it was just something my brain was doing. I was so sure the dream was a break-through that I committed it to memory before I went back to sleep.

But, look at it, there's nothing there.

Comments

[solar-diablo.livejournal.com]

Sounds like you passed through one of those "thin" places in your dream state.

Avalon's the first thing that comes to mind, but that's probably from having read Marion Zimmer Bradley too much.

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

A "thin" place. I love that idea. It did feel as though I was close to touching some other reality.