Nov 7th – The Dream of All Dreams

November 7th – The Dream of All Dreams

Inspired by here

20.02-20.12

All Dreams was wise. They all agreed on that. Although she was young, her voice was one they listened to: all of them. They spoke their fears to her; their hopes, their dreams, even. And All Dreams would listen to their words, before she slept.

Truth came to All Dreams while she slept.

Their life was simple: they moved with the seasons, followed the shadow of the sun and moon through day and night, and listened to the rhythms of the tides. And All Dreams was with them, speaking truths.

There had always been an All Dreams, as long as there had been time. When it was her time she dreamt the next, and the next would come to her and be given her secrets. This was the way it was, and the way it had always been. All Dreams was trust, and hope, and truth.

They had never seen All Dreams cry.

When they woke that morning, they woke to a sound they had never heard before. Women, children, men, even, followed the sound to All Dreams’ shelter. She was sitting outside, looking at the sky, her face wet with tears.

They stopped in front of her, each daring the other to speak. Finally one voice broke the silence.

“Tell us,” the voice said, “tell us the dream of All Dreams.”

And All Dreams gave words to the shapes she had dreamt. Boats unlike those they had ever known, pushed forward on an angry wind. White skin and metal faces, and screams, and blood.

“They’re coming,” she said. “It’s time to go.”

The Dream of All Dreams – Dead Deer

Today I wrote from 08:01 to 08:11

November Writing Prompts – Read more from the Dead Deer and follow it.

The Dream of All Dreams

She woke suddenly, sweating and gasping for air. Falling. Again. Almost every night her slumber was punctuated by this cliché of a dream. Falling, falling, falling, the shock of which awakened her prior to hitting the ground. Why? What can it mean? The common view is that it relates to a loss of control over life or some part of it.

Jenny had wracked her brains time and again, morning after morning. If anything she was too in control. She was the CEO of a major FTSE 100 international corporation that was going from strength to strength under her guardianship. She had a reputation here for not only steering the vast ship through the stormy waters of post-Crash Pre-Brexit Britain but also for being fully aware and informed of every small detail throughout the huge sprawling organisation. No, it wasn’t work that was out of control. The cover of Forbes showed her relaxed but clearly in charge.

At home her devoted husband was loyal and hadn’t even strayed in thought, let alone deed, throughout their 20 year marriage, and quarter century together. She was certain of this, she knew him so well, she could tell. In addition the company’s private investigators regularly checked him out. Yes, she was in control of that.

Attempts to oust her as President of the Golf Club had easily been thwarted. Yes, she was in control of all aspects of her life, so why the repetition of this dream of falling?

One night after another, falling (she never knew how) and being jolted into wakefulness before meeting her doom. By now it was less terrifying, more frustrating and a little boring if she were honest. She longed for something different, some alteration, at least.

Then one night in her dream she slipped before falling. This was new. It suggests that the dreamer will “slip up” in some event to come in life. Then the familiar falling, falling, falling, this time shorter than normal. Usually she could be falling for several minutes.

THUD. Wow, she thought, this time I’ve hit the ground. What could this mean? This momentary thought left her, as did all consciousness. Unknown to her there was indeed one part of herself that was out of control; Jenny had become a sleep-walker.

 

Read more from the Dead Deer and follow it.