Dreams are whatever you make them to be, and for me, they are beginnings of where my imagination can't go. My dreamland is the powerful cousin to my imagination.
Suddenly, like always, the danger appears. Flesh eating, impulse driven undead. A hoarde making their way down the beach, and everyone is running. The dream jumps, fastfowards and survival mode has kicked in. I notice some of the group is missing and my character is feeling overwhelmed. Chaotic emotions are warring. I can see a visual representation of them within the eyes of my character, like coloured ink swirling in water. My character and the group are jumping fences of homes within a forrest that exists behind the beach. Empty, abandoned homes. The world feels empty and alone for my character. Phones are down, electricity cut, the world is dead.
In an obviously Handmaids tale inspired dream, I dreamt of a woman being oppressed, hurt and frustrated. A fiery spirit holding on by threads in a world of submission and dictation. It started in a room full of women wearing blue, red, black and white clothing. Clear signs of segregation by some controlling municipal authority.... Continue Reading →