Header image by Asher Brown Durand under Public Domain.
Nearly a week ago, I had a dream I thought wasn’t particularly worth mentioning here, until I had a followup dream last night.
It started at the beginning of a summer festival. I was there with several friends, sitting on the grass and listening to the brief opening speech the frontman of the first band to play was making. It was mid to late afternoon; the sunlight was slightly tinted orange but there was no sense of desperation to finish the day’s activities before night fell. We simply enjoyed ourselves for what felt like, and what likely was, several hours.
Here, there was a brand of champagne everybody seemed eager to drink. Everybody including me had a bottle, though glasses were in short supply and unfortunately, I did not have a glass. After the opening band’s frontman finished his speech we all uncorked our bottles. Even in dreams I’m not all serious – I remember shouting “POP THE CHAMPAGNE” as a reference to a video I’d seen as I popped the bottle’s cork with my friends and their bottles.
As the band started playing, I wandered off to find a glass. I sauntered into a small stone brick building and looked around for any possible cupboards. Another friend passing by pointed me towards a cupboard containing glasses, but I found they were all broken…
I ventured downwards to try to find something and instead I found something…disturbing in the cellar. There was this…blue and black paint-like mass moving around on the floor and I knew that if even my foot touched it, I was done for.
I’m not sure where I found it, but I spent the next half hour using a hose to wash it away. It felt like a task greater than simply washing something away, and maybe it was. I wondered whether my friends would be wondering where I was by the time I was done. I left, and part 1 ends there.
The next dream was set not long after the end of the summer festival, at the same time of day. It seemed to be nearly the end of whatever was keeping us all here. We’d all be leaving the place soon, perhaps even on that very day. From the main castle-like building and the smaller buildings scattered around it to the set of buildings 15 minutes away people were walking to and from destinations unknown, saying their goodbyes. I made several trips to the more isolated series of buildings to talk to some friends there, though I spent just as much time in the main area. We all still had work to do here and a loose schedule, but there wasn’t any pressure.
I was idly browsing something on the computer in the internet café with some friends when I received a text message. I took out my phone and read it: it was a very strange message that on the surface seemed to be a message from a young unknown online video game streamer in the United States, perhaps sent to the wrong number, but it seemed there was something more, like it was a code or cipher of some sort.
Something in the text made me think of 1929. This message, or its sender, was tied to the year 1929 in some way, likely the US’ history in 1929. I showed the message to one of my friends. I referred to the message from then on as “1929”, but nobody knew what I was talking about.
There was a mystery behind this message, but I never had the time to figure it out in that dream alone.