When last we spent time with our beloved dreamwalker, he was having a fine lunch with a fine woman, though he was hardly present for it. You can catch up with Part VIII here. Now that lunch is over, what will be his next move? Will he continue to deliberate, to consider his options and develop a plan for his next excursion into the dreamspace? Or will he throw caution to the wind and dive in without any concern for himself? Let’s find out →
Solomon carried the bags into the house, into the kitchen, and set the on the island. He took a few minutes to put the food away in the pantry—all of it was convenience foods and snacks, as there was no refrigerator, stove, or microwave to store food and cook it. The toiletries he carried to the bathroom and organized them on the counter, placing the shampoo and body wash in the shower. He turned on the water and let it run while he retrieved a change of clothes from his bag in the living room. He returned to the shower to find the water cold; he knew hot water was too much to hope for, but he had hoped for it anyway.
With cold water as his companion, he was in and out of the shower in minutes, wiping himself down with a towel provided by his wife, and climbing into his clothes as he wandered back out into the living room. Refreshed just in time for an afternoon nap. He set a timer for twenty minutes, and with the stranger's words still ringing in his ears, he slipped into his sleeping bag, went through his usual lucid dream breathing routine, and ...
... fell through the floor as it opened up all around him. Wrapped in his sleeping bag, he plummeted like a stone down into unknown depths, screaming. The large hole in the floor was soon nothing more than a spec of light far above him. He struggled to release himself from his sleeping bag, fighting to wiggle his arms free as he began to flip head over heels while in free fall. All his usual dream tricks failed, as they had in the corridor, and he was left with a single idea that crowded the entirety of his brain: once his hands were free of the sleeping bag, he unzipped it, allowing it to open completely, then grasping the corners to create a makeshift parachute.
This may have worked, too, if only he had the grip strength to hold onto the sleeping bag. As he righted himself and the material puffed out from the onrushing air, the sudden tug to slow his fall was enough to yank the sleeping bag out of his hands. He looked up and swiped at the sleeping bag in a desperate bid to gain purchase, but to no avail. The sleeping bag floated above him, blocking out the single spec of light, and he plummeted to his doom in the pitch dark.
Perhaps it was doom that he anticipated. An abrupt stop at the bottom would likely bring his entire purpose to an end, along with his life, if the reality of his experience in the corridor held true here as well. There was nothing to do but wait for the end to arrive.
Continued after the break
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A traveling merchant finds himself in quite the predicament when he manages to win a duel, leading him down a dark path. A tale from the Odds ‘n’ Endings Boutique.
The end, however, would have to wait. The free fall became a free float, though the change was imperceptible. Solomon failed to realize he was slowing down until low ambient light rising from some unknown source below him revealed he was approaching a patch of dandelions none too fast. In fact, far too slow.
He manipulated himself in the air to bring his feet beneath him, so he might stand upon the patch of dandelions as opposed to landing on his head. He then had nothing to do but wait until he landed.
The darkness around him continued to crowd his awareness. There was nothing he could see in any direction save this small patch of dandelions toward which he was heading. Even along the edges of the patch, the darkness obscured anything outside of its bounds. The ambient light seemed to stop at walls of darkness on all sides. What sort of dream was this, that he would free fall, blind though coherent, to land softly on a bed of flowers?
The ground seemed to rise up to meet at the final few moments of his fall, and he stumbled onto the flowers without much grace, as he landed earlier than he anticipated. He managed to catch his balance before he toppled, and so he stood upright in the center of the patch, flowers extending in all directions for a few feet before being swallowed whole by the darkness.
Solomon looked around. He could see his hands. He could see his feet. He could see the flowers. He could see nothing else. He took a deep breath in, let it out slowly, and approached the darkness to one side. A few steps, and the edges of a planter revealed themselves. Looking back, he saw the patch of dandelions had grown smaller, or rather the light had not grown but moved. He stepped onto the edge of the planter, and then stepped down onto a walkway revealed by his forward motion and the accompanying light.
A few more steps along the path revealed a raised stone gazebo with roman columns. The columns rose into the darkness, disappearing a few feet overhead, leaving the roof of the structure hidden, if there was a roof at all. He looked back and confirmed his suspicion of the moving light; the planter with the dandelions was nowhere to be seen. Only the walkway and its edges were visible, and now the steps up to the gazebo before him. With a grunt, he returned his attention forward and began to climb.
It was a short stair to a large gazebo. He paused between the columns to look around before proceeding toward the center. The walkway was bordered on either side by planters, but the light stopped at the edges and he could not make out what was growing within the planters. He could see no branches off the walkway, and so assumed he had only the gazebo on one end and some unknown destination on the other, with the dandelion patch somewhere in the middle. He could return the way he came and follow the walkway to see what lied on the other end, but he doubted it would amount to anything more interesting. Another gazebo, perhaps?
He stood on the top step, unsure of what to do, when a soft humming tickled his ears. He turned his back on the walkway and the humming became a little louder. Very well, he thought, into the center I go. He walked deeper into the gazebo, with the walkway and the stair disappearing behind him, and the columns themselves disappearing as well. The ground was plain stone; there was nothing he could use as a point of reference to return him to the stair should he get turned around. He considered turning back so as not to lose his way, but paused as the humming came to an end. He waited, curious to see if the humming would continue, but the silence deepened, giving the darkness an air of menace. Unsettled, he turned around, ready to head back to the stair.
"Leaving so soon, Solomon?”
Interesting. Everyone has experienced falling in their dreams, yes? This is usually followed by immediately waking up, which should have raised alarm bells with Solomon once he realized he was in a dream, but for some reason he spared no thought for this. Perhaps he expected to be trapped once again? Perhaps he didn’t realize it was a dream until much later? Perhaps—and I have a sneaking suspicion this is closer to the truth—he’s a fucking moron. There’s only one way to find out! Read Part X here.
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