This was a dream from a few nights ago. I include it here because it speaks to the subject of this site, in this case the literal intrusion from another level of being through and into this phenomenal world (or that, as portrayed in the dream). It arrives as a coda to a greater dream-narrative, in which I lived in a solar system that had several populated worlds. This was a science fiction dream.
I’d left one large and densely populated, earthlike planet to visit a much smaller and much more rural, unpopulated and less developed planetoid. There I’d inadvertently caused this smaller planet’s rotation to stop by opening the tip of a great glass tube –a fluorescent light tube several hundreds of feet high – unstoppering it by some electronic control panel within so the tube could gather the light of the sun. This had activated the tube and caused it to light up, but this then had the unexpected consequence of halting the planet’s rotation, which in turn had vast consequences over the planet’s ecosphere.
I’d left the planet for a year or more, returning to it after a segue in the dream narrative, and could then see what sort of consequences had followed. Oddly enough, one was that the planet’s surface which now permanently faced the sun, and where the tall fluorescent tube stood, to gather energy, to stay brightly lit, had become colder. In another spot, where now it was night (and though this didn’t occur to me in the dream itself, this would by logic be to the other side of the sphere) I stood in a yard amongst trees with a small group of familiar people, though I was slightly apart from them, and I was talking with an older man, a man in a hat, who was a sort of mentor figure to me. His fedora may have held a feather. As we spoke, we at some prompt looked up to see the black, starry sky get spilled over by a widening and deeper blackness, like a stain of ink spreading irregular across the night from above – as if the sky were a glass surface that we could see from below it, and the spill spread over that from some metaphysical ultra-place, blotting out the here-ness of distant normal space. But then in this deeper blackness we could see, moving through it, like unicellular ultra-creatures, these vast geometric shapes – hybrid rhomboids of spirals, boxes, circles, the like – all flat and darkly vivid, as if glowing in blacklight, in purples and deep, deep reds and magenta-maroon. These shapes were moving. They crawled hugely through the ink-dark, and worked through toward this world. This was yet another consequence of what I’d done by lighting the tall tube and the stopping of the small world.