Drowsy

An interview with a dreamer. At the time of our conversation, most of his face and forehead were covered in large patches of pale green lichen. His eyes had entirely been covered, but creases had formed in the lichen around his mouth and nose. Less noticeably, patches of lichen has also started to sprout on his hands and arms.

J: I guess my first question is, does it hurt?

D: It doesn’t feel like anything at all. It’s as much apart of me as a freckle, or my hair.

The dreamer’s hair had mostly fallen out, replaced by large scaly patches. Tufts and stray strands of red hair poked out between the ridges of the lichen.

J: When did you first notice the growths?

D: One day, there were none. Then after a particularly hard day, I laid down to rest, and I slept for three days. I’d wake for just moments at a time, but I was groggy, my eyes and my body felt heavy. I was conscious for only minutes at a time. And even when I was awake, my mind was elsewhere. Still lingering in a dream. Distant. And then, when I woke at the end of my fugue, the lichen had started growing around my eyes. At first, I thought it was sand in my eyes, or my skin was dry- but when I touched it- I dunno. It was different. Not bad, but different. Alive. But not like some growth on me, just something growing from me.

J: Do you remember your dreams during that week?

D: There was only one dream. The Lighthouse. I was on a small rocky island, I could see Palmyra in the distance, almost like I was looking at it across Lake Mackinac, from Malaterre island, but the distance was all wrong. Whenever I tried to focus on the shoreline, it seemed to pull away from me. In the dream, I remember finding one of those touristy viewfinders, and sticking in a couple of coins. But when I pressed my eyes to it, it was just a long tunnel of darkness. Not pitch black, but dark. I could see movement on the tunnel walls- not like a person or a monster, but as if the tunnel itself was pulsing with energy.

I was shocked by the strange darkness, and I jumped back from the viewfinder. I looked out to the shoreline, and it was further now. I didn’t want to look back in the view finder, I felt panicked. Scared that if I did, the shore would grow further from me, or that I might get trapped in that tunnel. But I felt compelled, like it was my role to look through the viewfinder. So I did. The dark tunnel returned, but this time I could feel myself moving forward in the space. I knew my physical body was still at the viewfinder, but it’s like my soul was traveling through this dark tunnel. As I floated forward, the pulsing of the cave walls grew stronger, I could see veins of silver crisscrossing all around me. And then, a warm light in the distance.

I glided towards it, almost in rhythm with the pulses. The tunnel opened up into this beautiful rocky grove. Sunlight cascaded in from overhead, water dripped, and vines grew up the stone walls. And in the center, preserved in a beautiful coffin was a mummy. I couldn’t see it from the entrance, but I just knew. But the mummy, she wasn’t dead. She was just sleeping, like I was sleeping. I tried to get closer to her, to inspect her coffin, but the light repelled me. And no matter how hard I tried to push into the grotto, it’s like a magnetic force was pushing on me. After clawing, and pressing against the invisible force, I finally caught hold of something, got traction with my feet, and then the force launched me backwards, back through the tunnel, all the way until I was out of the viewfinder, and back into my body. I gasped. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath, but I think I had because I was light headed, and my fingers felt tingly, like maybe I wasn’t all there yet.

I tried looking in the view finder, but my time had run out, and apparently I was all out of coins. So I spend the next couple of minutes, or hours, or days, wandering around the island. It was deserted. There were empty houses, closed shops, and desolate streets. Everywhere I went, I looked for another view finder, or change, or some hidden passage that might take me back to the tunnel, and the grotto. I could still feel it. I knew it was nearby, I just had to find some way in.

Once in awhile, I would catch a glance of Palmyra, and its distant shoreline. It was so small now, so tiny on the horizon. I couldn’t be sure it was still stretching away from me, but I was certain if I didn’t find a way off the island, or back to the tunnel, I would be trapped here forever.

I walked for longer. I tore open doors, I rummaged through basements, but I couldn’t find an entrance to the tunnel. So finally, I decided I had to return to the city. I walked for awhile. Too long. Too long for how tiny the island was. And eventually, I found a ferry, waiting at the docks. I boarded, anxious that I’d have to figure out how to pilot such a large vessel. But as soon as I stepped onboard, I felt the boat shift beneath me.

For every minute we sailed, Palmyra became exponentially bigger. Ballooning from a dot, to thumbprint, to a postcard, to a whole city. And before I knew it- We’d arrived.