dream report
A dream from this week, as vivid as a movie. A slender woman, beautiful with long hair, standing on a dock.
A flash forward, and she’s in the water, the sea.
“Yes.” said the man facing her, also attractive.
“What?” asked the woman, standing on the dock, not realizing he saw a very near future.
“Oh,” she said next, seeming to know, to realize what would come. She jumped in, and invited him in. He jumped in.
They swam towards the shore of an island. The rocks, boulders, monoliths surrounding it were mammoth and smooth, and upon closer look, were composed of hundreds of glossy layers in all variety of earth tones. The man swam up to one. This boulder looked like a face, with divots where eyes should be, a nose-shaped protrusion, and lips?
He turned to share his find with his partner. Another flash. Women, women of all types slowly crawling from the water to the beachy shore, slowing even more as they reached it, getting draped by invisible buckets of not-invisible paint, layer after layer, until they were multi-colour standstills, like the rock he had just swam by, but with the full colour spectrum, infinite varieties of melted rainbows in any order, all glazed and solidified on their figures, their figures all curves, their figures solidified for eternity.
His partner — he had to warn her. But it wasn’t a flash of the future, it was current reality. The urgency shot up. He treaded water, and she, standing on the sandy shore, away from the figures, looked out at him, both as of yet untouched. In horror she then received a flash of the future herself: his future. Her partner, walking out of the sea, and on his neck, his throat: a wound: broad, ovoid, bloody, festering.
