I craned my neck up to look at the heavens, but there was only empty space. No stars twinkling in the night sky, no purplish clouds of the universe filling up the Milky Way. Was it night, or was it day?
I couldn’t tell. Everything looked the same as I continued my slow, methodical march through a blackened field of ash and silence. Gone from this world were any signs of life; only history held the echos of noise, love, laughter, and violence.
Breaking through the noiseless void above me was a flash of grey. I had turned just in time to witness a flock of dead birds flying through a broken sky. Nothing in this place made any sense. Life could not be supported with such an abandonment of color. To live here meant simply living to die.
My feet trudged over mounds of jagged rocks and burnt wood, but I was not connected to the actions of my lower half. I could only focus on the black sky and the soundless flapping of the dead wings. This world was not meant for my eyes. Try as I might to make sense of what I was seeing, I knew deep down I could not understand such things.
No sound. No air. No life. I walked because I didn’t have the choice not to. My legs moved without input from my mind. My mind, what had become of it? This world wasn’t real, wasn’t of my creation. I realized what I had to do.
I closed my eyes. In an instant my legs stopped moving and a breath of life filled my body. My senses returned to me as well as my mind. I had control again. I understood the lies.
That world wasn’t real. It was only the workings of a distant dream. A world between conscious thought and slumber. It is the world we do not remember, but we go to as we wait transportation to another realm. The realm of dreams and choice. The land of ash and silence serves only as a reminder of what happens when we refuse to drift in slumber’s stream.
Don’t forget to check out the rest of the 12 Nights of Dreams series.