tomorrow will be beyond imagining
There's fog outside. The entire world looks as though it's been softened with a white haze, and the still-bare branches of the nearest trees stand out starkly against the blurred reaches of something even as near as the houses across the street. It's not evenly distributed, either; I can see drifting swirls of cloud, dipping with lazy grace as they move by my window, reaching out with wispy tendrils as they pass.
It'll probably burn off in an hour or so, but it's such a rare thing to see here in this city that it just adds a level of surreality to the day.
I've been awake for a couple of hours already, and what sleep I did get before that was broken and scattered with odd dreams-- I'd say nightmares, almost, except that they were at least interesting. In the one I remember most clearly, I was lost somewhere in the annals of the Library of Congress. If there's a set of stacks there that looks like the one in my dream, I've not yet seen it -- but somehow I was very certain of where I was. Newly bound books stood side by side on tall shelves with tomes so ancient that their pages were crumbling even as I watched. I wasn't alone, either; as I wandered deeper into the stacks, my unseen companion walked with me, quietly explaining that I had stumbled into a lost pocket of time and was drifting between both years and places-- which, incidentally, is why I couldn't actually see him. "This is what ghosts really are," he murmured. "You'll get used to being one too, in time. That's all you have left here, anyway; time and the infinite reaches of knowledge to explore. There are worse places to be."
He was probably right about that, but I was still oddly relieved to open my eyes and see more familiar space surrounding me. Well, mostly, anyway; with the mist still blanketing the world outside, it doesn't quite feel as though I've yet returned to this earth.
Oh, well. There are worse places to be. :)
It'll probably burn off in an hour or so, but it's such a rare thing to see here in this city that it just adds a level of surreality to the day.
I've been awake for a couple of hours already, and what sleep I did get before that was broken and scattered with odd dreams-- I'd say nightmares, almost, except that they were at least interesting. In the one I remember most clearly, I was lost somewhere in the annals of the Library of Congress. If there's a set of stacks there that looks like the one in my dream, I've not yet seen it -- but somehow I was very certain of where I was. Newly bound books stood side by side on tall shelves with tomes so ancient that their pages were crumbling even as I watched. I wasn't alone, either; as I wandered deeper into the stacks, my unseen companion walked with me, quietly explaining that I had stumbled into a lost pocket of time and was drifting between both years and places-- which, incidentally, is why I couldn't actually see him. "This is what ghosts really are," he murmured. "You'll get used to being one too, in time. That's all you have left here, anyway; time and the infinite reaches of knowledge to explore. There are worse places to be."
He was probably right about that, but I was still oddly relieved to open my eyes and see more familiar space surrounding me. Well, mostly, anyway; with the mist still blanketing the world outside, it doesn't quite feel as though I've yet returned to this earth.
Oh, well. There are worse places to be. :)