***
Sophie Apartments.
The place lies in ruins, yet I am there, fully awake inside the dream. Everything is stripped to its foundations. The once-beautiful bedroom now stands bare, the brick cold and raw. A door hangs loosely by its broken handle—as if someone could forcefully burst through at any moment. I glance toward the left corner, where the marble clock from Zadar ought to be. There, impossibly, a miniature jungle thrives against all odds: lush green leaves unfurling in a world of ruin. How can these plants be thriving when everything else was so knackered?
Gripped by a sense of desperation, my attention tilts lightly to the left, and I see it—the other door. The real exit, perfectly intact, glowing softly under the flashing blue light of the electronic lock. A boundary between worlds, a way out to a safe return ..
The next day, I sit in quiet awe, reflecting on the richness of my bonkers subconcious mind. I asked mom to deliver on the intensity of these dreams and so she did. La Yugular by Rosalía begins to play. The haunting timbre of my favourite Patti cuts through the end of the weirdly drawn out spanish lyric, echoing the invocation:
“Seven heavens – big deal! I wanna see the eighth heaven, tenth heaven, thousandth heaven. You know, it’s like, break on through to the other side. It’s just like going through one door. One door isn’t enough. A million doors aren’t enough”.
***
Lately, I’ve been living—no, thriving—in my dreams. I am in a house cradled by the mountains, enmeshed with the pristine view from the glass windows, which captured the entirety of the mountain. The air hums with serenity, and the colours of the village blaze brighter than waking life, almost as intense as the contrast as I seek to find between terracota and dark blue.
Similarly to my North point nightmare, Khalee was present, too—but this time, there was not an ounce of fear. A sense of elevation and higher perspective, instead, a vastness ripe with opportunity.
The gaze of the dog suffused with tranquility..
Its eyes were deep and kind, radiating companionship and silent protection. An overwhelming familiarity washing over me, nodding off to, yes, you are safe here now, marking a powerful reunion with my favourite person - a homecoming strangely coinciding with the breakdown of a carefully constructed reality. All trivial concern of the waking world dissipating and suspending into the ether; nothing could take away from the metaphorical horizons I had just perceived, and I was no longer mirroring the disproportionate egos of the Lubberfiend....
***
The dreaming of Kate Bush was not coincidental, either.
'When you left, the door was (slamming) You paused in the doorway (slamming) As though a thought stole you away (slamming) I watched the world you pulled away (Lock it)
So I run into the hall (Lock it) Into the corridor (Lock it) There's a door in the house (slamming) I hear the lift descending (slamming) I hear it hit the landing (slamming) See the hackles on the cat (standing)
With my key I (lock it)
"Woman let me in! Let me bring in the memories!
I will not let you in! Don't you bring back the reveries I turn into a bird Carry further than the word is heard
'The first time I died Was in the arms of good friends of mine They kiss me with tears They hadn't been near me for years Say, why do it now When I won't be around, I'm going out?'
All the love, all the love
All the love you should have given.
