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.
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