Song of Storms

Cropped header image by Nik Cyclist under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic.

This morning, I woke up feeling very ill. There didn’t seem to be much else to do but wait for recovery, and so I slept.

In my first dream, I was on holiday in the summertime, staying in a bedroom on the top floor of someone’s two-storey house on the borders of a town at the countryside. The grey sky cast a layer of shadow over the house, and the rain fell lightly outside. I briefly looked out the window, and saw a small park on the ground level, a road outside the house leading both left or right, and rolling hills occasionally interrupted by lines of trees all the way to the horizon.

I was preoccupied with the room itself; I had been here before, in my childhood. It seemed more like I’d grown up here than visited – there were photos of me with people I didn’t recognise framed in the room, and scattered across the floor were items I got a familiar feeling from, ones I remembered from my childhood. I remembered everything from my childhood, and eventually came onto the subject of other dreams. I realised that I was in a dream, thus ending the dream. Continue reading



Header image by Alessandro Antonelli under Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported.

Last night I dreamt I was visiting a quiet town in an unknown country with my family, all of us staying in an expensive suite high up in a hotel. It was a really nice town too, you could see all of it from this high up; the hotel was on the border between the edge of the town and a large river, and there was a dining area at the base of the hotel to capitalise on that. There was a canal cutting through the town about halfway from here to the hills, and halfway between that and the hills was a clock tower, which was the only building other than this hotel which could be called “tall”.  Continue reading

Story A Day, Day 1 – Beyond

Header image by ForestWander under Creative Commons 3.0 United States.

Weary from their travels in the late afternoon, the three gazed at the semi-familiar town rising over the surface of the water, its pathways arching and dancing over and around the town’s structures, touching water and heading off out of sight, or even below the surface. Unsure whether they’d been rendered deaf to the world before this begun or simply staring at a town that would never stare back, they headed silently towards the nearest building to see if anybody was in.

The breeze felt uncharacteristically heavy against their faces as they trudged nearly reluctantly looking forward, each occasionally shifting their eyes to focus on something when they thought the others weren’t looking. The town itself was the same sight they’d always seen from below, however this time it was in quite a different context. Continue reading


Header image by Wikimedia Commons user Dexter Raymaker under Creative Commons 3.0.

Sometimes in my dreams I get lost in my own hometown. New streets appear, old streets loop back to new streets and buildings gain additional floors.

One town over does this a lot. I never know this town much to begin with. I would be making my way to wherever I wanted to go, a friend’s house perhaps, and finding my way there would be impossible. I would find a new street and try to correct course, only to lose myself along a new network of further streets; the streets have always felt strange at night, but never like this. Continue reading