Dreams are fascinating. Well, your dreams are fascinating. To you. Other people’s dreams are usually quite boring. But that is beside the point, because I am not talking about dreams that belong to anyone in particular. To be more precise, I’m talking about the stuff dreams are made of.
“Aren’t dreams made of the unprocessed information left in my subconscious at the end of the day?” You ask. Well, yes, scientifically speaking, that is the likeliest explanation for dreaming. But what of the product of dreams? What happens to the fantastical thoughts and feelings one dreams, and then promptly forgets when one wakes up? Do you think they just disappear? Pish-tosh!* Nothing just disappears – that’s one of the Laws of Thermodynamics.
Forgotten dreams, whether soft and feathery pleasant, slipping away as the birds sing you awake and sleep is shuffled from your mind, or jagged and point nightmares, banished by the brain police so you’ll never have to even wonder why thoughts of Grandpa as a vampire pop into your head from time to time – particularly when he removes his false teeth, all dreams forgotten do not crumble to nothing. Rather they leave our minds and float through the In-Between meeting each other and joining to form vast countries filled with wondrousand frightening things.
The In-Between is a world unto itself, and it is far more dangerous than this one. Not even the inhabitants of the In-Between can map their land, for borders are ever changing as new dream-stuff latches on – and there is no telling what sort of wonder or horror might appear beside you.
You cannot see the In-Between. No device clever enough to pierce the veil that divides our worlds has yet been invented by science. But sometimes, perhaps late at night, or just as the sun is touching the horizon, you may be able to hear it if you listen very closely to the rustling in the underbrush.
*Take note how this expression onomatopoeically describes a large person or animal using the toilet. Isn’t language fascinating?
