Dreamscape
Paint your piece of the dream. Ten dreams float out there on their own little islands, and every one is a wall painted by a small crew of sleepers, one piece each, eyes closed, hands steady.
The Falling Dream
deep in the dream a bottomless sky of stacked cloud floors climbing up forever, each layer lit a different hour of night, slow birds circling between them.
drifting closer pajama clad sleepers falling gently upward past the clouds, one reading a book on the way, one pouring tea that pours up, one holding an umbrella opened the wrong way that is working anyway.
at your fingertips one bare foot and a trailing blanket corner in close view breaking through the nearest cloud, a lost slipper and three feathers hanging in the air beside it.
The Flying Lesson
deep in the dream a round green hill floating free in the night sky, a small schoolhouse with lit windows perched on top, other drifting hills far behind.
drifting closer a flying lesson in session off the hill's edge, a patient goose instructor demonstrating form, a line of sleepers with their arms out, one already soaring in delighted panic, one gripping the fence and thinking hard about it.
at your fingertips a pair of borrowed paper wings in close view strapped over striped pajamas, one feather working loose and hanging in the moonlight.
The Endless Staircase
deep in the dream a tall stone tower adrift in violet sky, wrapped in staircases that climb back into themselves, arches opening onto further arches.
drifting closer sleepers climbing the impossible stairs in every direction at once, two passing upside down to each other and tipping hats, a cat strolling a railing that becomes a step that becomes a ceiling.
at your fingertips one worn stone step in close view splitting into two directions at once, a dropped candle standing on it perfectly level both ways.
The Sea Above
deep in the dream an ocean hanging overhead where the sky should be, its lit surface rippling upside down like a glass ceiling, small boats moored to the chimneys below it.
drifting closer whales cruising the overhead sea with lanterns hung from their fins, rooftop fishermen casting lines straight up, a gentle rain of silver fish drifting down onto the town like leaves.
at your fingertips one fishing line in close view running from a chimney pot up into the glowing water, a small fish descending it the wrong way with an apologetic look.
The Late Train
deep in the dream a railway platform built on a shelf of cloud, wide night all around it, a station clock tower whose blank face carries far too many hands.
drifting closer the dream train pulling away in no hurry at all, carriages glowing warm, a sleeper in pajamas running for it while the platform politely lengthens, a conductor sheep holding one door and consulting a pocket watch.
at your fingertips one slippered foot mid stride in close view above the cloud boards, a paper ticket escaping from an open hand into the air.
The Parked Moon
deep in the dream a small town at night with the moon parked far too close, resting in the square like a visiting ship, every rooftop silvered by its nearness.
drifting closer ladders leaned against the moon from all sides, townsfolk in nightgowns polishing it with brooms and soft cloths, moths the size of kites orbiting happily, a dog barking at its own enormous shadow.
at your fingertips one wooden ladder rung in close view with a polishing cloth draped over it, the moon's cratered curve filling everything behind.
The Library of Lost Names
deep in the dream bookshelves standing freely in open night sky with no walls and no floor, aisles of them running back toward the stars, ladders leaning on nothing.
drifting closer an owl librarian ferrying blank spined books between the shelves, sleepers browsing in dressing gowns, one book lying open on the air by itself and releasing a slow spiral of pale light.
at your fingertips one open book in close view with softly glowing empty pages, a sleeper's finger about to touch the place where a name should be.
The House That Rearranges
deep in the dream a tall narrow house standing alone in the dream sky, windows lit in mismatched colors, a front door opening onto open air.
drifting closer the rooms of the house drifting apart and reattaching in the wrong order, a bathtub docking onto the roof, a staircase wandering off on its own, the kitchen trading places with the attic while a sleeper carries a bowl of soup carefully between them.
at your fingertips a brass doorknob in close view mid turn on a door that is quietly becoming a window, a small house key floating just out of reach beside it.
The Orchestra of Small Sounds
deep in the dream the inside of a sleeping house grown vast as a concert hall, moonlight through tall windows for stage light, dressers and armchairs risen into balconies.
drifting closer the small sounds of night performing together, a metronome conducting from a matchbox podium, the dripping tap seated at percussion above a silver bowl, a purring cat filling in for the string section, floorboard creaks side by side in the brass row, a kettle warming up backstage.
at your fingertips one drop of water in close view mid fall above the silver bowl, caught at the exact moment before its single perfect note.
The Waking Shore
deep in the dream a pale shoreline at the edge of the dream where night thins into peach dawn, the dark sea of sleep lying calm behind, morning arriving in slow bands of light.
drifting closer dreams beached along the sand like little painted boats, sleepers wading ashore in pajamas carrying whatever they managed to keep, a lighthouse whose lamp is a great alarm clock swinging its light gently over them, gulls made of folded paper circling it.
at your fingertips one footprint in wet sand in close view already filling with morning light, a small dream still held in one hand like a snow globe.
Dreams mid dream. Seats open under the covers.
The Falling Dream1 dreamt · 1 open seat
The Falling Dream1 dreamt · 1 open seat
The Falling Dream0 dreamt · 8 open seats
The Falling Dream0 dreamt · 2 open seats
It is almost seven.
Every dream ends at the same shore. Carry what you can.
