Aegean Geography
by
, 05-24-2019 at 02:41 AM (410 Views)
The dream begins in large building of indefinite function—mostly a large, open space with various rooms branching off, somewhat like a mall, although it doesn’t have the feel of one. At one point, I enter one of these rooms. It’s filled with plush toys of various kinds. On top of one cabinet is a series of small narwhals. One of them is gray and fuzzy, with a string going around it. On it are a few metal beads with letters on them spelling out a name. It’s exactly like one my friend Nina made for me when we were children, and it occurs to me that seeing it here can only mean one thing: I’m dreaming.
I walk back out into the larger room, where I take a look around. The floor is made up of black and white tiles in a checkerboard pattern. I could have some fun with that. In response to my intention, the black tiles glow red, blue, a whole series of bright colors in succession. Then I decide to change things more dramatically. I simply intend for the floor to change, not specifying how, and in response, it shifts into an abstract pattern, tendrils of color curved across a white background, made out of smaller tiles than before—like a mosaic. They’re predominantly salmon pink with subdued green, as well as tiles in darker colors, which give the patterns depth and contrast.
Looking across the large room, I see a wall of glass windows. Beyond it, the sky is visible, and a bit of the landscape below, as if this place is located somewhere high up. Some people are gathered out on a landing on the other side. I decide I’ll go over there next. But the floor is changing again: this time, into blues, greens, yellows, touches of orange. It’s a map now—specifically, a topographical map. I didn’t do that.
Rather than heading over to the windows, I examine the new floor. There are words written over locations, like they would be on an actual map, but there seems to be more written here than just names. However, the language is an unfamiliar one—possibly Spanish. But, I think, that shouldn’t be a problem for the place names since those tend to stay much the same between languages.
I am standing over the part showing the Aegean Sea. The island directly in front of me is labeled 'Mykonos'—and memory tells me (and Google confirms once I’ve awakened) that it does indeed have that island’s distinctive shape. I look over near the Turkish coast, but the islands there don’t match up nearly as well. They don't even seem to be the same islands at all. I look around various areas of the map until I wake up.
22.5.19