I dreamt, two nights ago, that I was turning into the road that runs from the house where my son lives – a place I’ve never been to in meat space.
It was a darkly treed-over road, not straight, and somewhat dark green. On my right, an old castle stood beside the road, turrets still bright in maroon slatework. On my left, the woods thickened slightly, trees rolling over low hills. Although the old castle interested me, I was content to be able just to see it, and it was the woods I entered.
After some time spent inside a blue turtle shell in the woods, I emerged once more onto the road – but now I was the road. No, the road was a river, flowing darkly where the road had been.
And I was the river….