My dreams have been troubled of late. They lack the gray, simple tableaus that I usually see. I cannot be sure of the cause. Perhaps it is this city. Such a large collection of adapts in one place might be creating an instability in the ether. Magical stimuli is being drawn spontaneously, having adverse effects on my mind on a subconscious level. The fabric between the worlds could be suffering irreparable damage, due to the constant experimentation and exploration.
Or it’s the clam chowder.
I found myself on a mountain of sand overlooking a purple sky. Nebulae were bursting into coronas of gold, green, and autumn. A strong wind swept across the mountain. I was lifted into the air and tossed into a churning ocean. But it was not composed of water, but crystalline worms.
The worms bore me up so I didn’t sink. Slowly they wove in and out among each other. A soft ringing floated from them. By examining closely, I could see the sound was made by their constant movement. I thought they were singing. I could almost make out the words.
I leaned in to hear them better. Somehow I knew they were speaking to me. The noise was so familiar, but just out of reach. In my frustration, I shouted out, “What are you trying to say!?”
The bulk of the crystalline creatures shuddered. What I thought was singing turned into a roar. A wave rose like a mighty hill over me. I was powerless, I could not get away. All my words, my knowledge, were useless against the tide.
I woke, still hearing the sound of the crashing waves.