realization
I stood slowly and went inside. She was swinging on the front porch, eyes flashing through the last halo of daylight pulled from beyond the horizon. Nothing to say and the cold winds touched her alone. I wandered through a dream house, dark hallways floored in pine needles, soft underfoot, that whisped stories of the past as I stepped. The ceiling beyond sight, walls stacked to infinity by mine own hands, built to only to define the doors. The doors, vast slabs with bass relief carvings of beauty and torment, wood and stone that doesn't grow anywhere but the land behind my house. Sleek grey stone struck through with fractal veins of blackened green that twine forever into themselves, fantastic woods of no real name, simple beauty, purity. These are the doors I have built to the rooms of my past and they all stood open as I passed.
The corridors stretch back as far as I do, into a past that is mine but not mine, memories of ancient worlds that I can see only through dusty glass. These I ignored, choosing to wander the well worn paths of this life, looking onto rooms of sharp memories, singular points of my life. I thought she was with me there, but I forgot to invite her in, so I wandered alone, not knowing that I left her behind. Then she called to me, but I didn't hear her, only echos down empty halls. When I found what I was looking for I turned to show her but she wasn't there. I couldn't understand why, and I had forgotten how to get out of the dream, it was all I could see. I woke up to the sound of silver tears falling far away.
this is the dream I had at work today