confined to fast in fires
Well, that was disturbing. I dreamed--just now, a few minutes ago I woke up and am still close enough to this dream to reach back and touch the feelings of dread that it gave me--that I was at a huge gathering of people in a country club or convention center or huge private home. I could not tell which. If it was a public function building it was unusually fancy and comfortable, with big windows and fireplaces, and lots of books and soft furnishings.
I was with people doing touchy-feely stuff like yoga, and they all seemed overwrought, with the sense of false intimacy that you get when doing something difficult together. There was a handsome woman of about forty and a lean gray man of about seventy who kept getting close to me. The man was creepy and kept staring at me, but when we were flung together by an exercise we were doing, he didn't try anything nasty, just leaned his arms on my shoulders in a circle with several other people while we did stretches together. They kept making extravagant promises that we'd never part and be friends all our lives.
Then I was summoned to another part of the building by an old man whom I knew and liked--possibly my uncle or an old employer, in the dream. I had to go outside on a well-lighted verandah, at night. It was a carriageway, with cars constantly arriving and people getting out, and well-dressed men running to and fro with baggage. There were other people with me who hated the place.
At that point, I heard people singing a song, or else I saw it written over the door of the building like "Abandon hope all ye who enter here." I'm not sure which. It was terrible. I remember thinking even at the time that it was something I'd heard in an inappropriately-gruesome "kids movie" that was only appropriate for adults. It sounded like something that should be sung by the cursed men from the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie, starving and parching endlessly yet unable to die or be healed. There was a lot more to it than this, and I had the whole thing in my head only a few minutes ago, but I only remember that it sneered at some past promise made to the speaker as being a big lie, and then went on,
I've labored here for a thousand years
And I'm still no nearer the throne of God.
...to a jaunty tune.
I went to help my uncle in the big theater attached to the building. He was a cheery old man in evening attire, making sure the caterers brought coffee and the corsages/buttonholes of flowers were handed out to the people pouring into the theater. I tore up a sugar packet in my fingers but didn't really provide much help to my uncle. The corsages were of poppies. Of course they damn well would be. And then I woke up.
I think I just dreamed myself into either Purgatory or the fairy realm. I'm not sure which, and either one has problems. The fear that came over me when I heard that song, or saw it on the wall, is difficult to convey. I want to run screaming, but I'm not sure from what.
I was with people doing touchy-feely stuff like yoga, and they all seemed overwrought, with the sense of false intimacy that you get when doing something difficult together. There was a handsome woman of about forty and a lean gray man of about seventy who kept getting close to me. The man was creepy and kept staring at me, but when we were flung together by an exercise we were doing, he didn't try anything nasty, just leaned his arms on my shoulders in a circle with several other people while we did stretches together. They kept making extravagant promises that we'd never part and be friends all our lives.
Then I was summoned to another part of the building by an old man whom I knew and liked--possibly my uncle or an old employer, in the dream. I had to go outside on a well-lighted verandah, at night. It was a carriageway, with cars constantly arriving and people getting out, and well-dressed men running to and fro with baggage. There were other people with me who hated the place.
At that point, I heard people singing a song, or else I saw it written over the door of the building like "Abandon hope all ye who enter here." I'm not sure which. It was terrible. I remember thinking even at the time that it was something I'd heard in an inappropriately-gruesome "kids movie" that was only appropriate for adults. It sounded like something that should be sung by the cursed men from the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie, starving and parching endlessly yet unable to die or be healed. There was a lot more to it than this, and I had the whole thing in my head only a few minutes ago, but I only remember that it sneered at some past promise made to the speaker as being a big lie, and then went on,
I've labored here for a thousand years
And I'm still no nearer the throne of God.
...to a jaunty tune.
I went to help my uncle in the big theater attached to the building. He was a cheery old man in evening attire, making sure the caterers brought coffee and the corsages/buttonholes of flowers were handed out to the people pouring into the theater. I tore up a sugar packet in my fingers but didn't really provide much help to my uncle. The corsages were of poppies. Of course they damn well would be. And then I woke up.
I think I just dreamed myself into either Purgatory or the fairy realm. I'm not sure which, and either one has problems. The fear that came over me when I heard that song, or saw it on the wall, is difficult to convey. I want to run screaming, but I'm not sure from what.