DREAM JOURNAL – Catherine Nakamura
I am on a small sphere that hangs in the velvet darkness of space, the stars around a sprinkling of pinpricks.
But I am small too.
I don’t know the names of the worlds that I visit in my dreams. I’ve never known. But I do know that I’ve been to many different places.
The surface of the sphere is green and blue and the wind blows through the blue and makes the green ebb and flow as if it were the shore.
I look around with purpose yet without purpose. It’s a recurring theme that I both know and don’t know where I am and why I should be there.
And then I see it.
A dome on the horizon, an upturned teacup in the green.
I see it and I’m there.
When I travel in my dreams it’s either a journey that takes years or the blink of an eye. I never know which it’ll be until after the fact.
The dome is an observatory. Inside is an enormous telescope clad in gold and a tall woman who is not.
“Hello,” I say. “I am the Dreamer.”
“I am the Watcher,” she says. “I maintain the Ways.”
“Are you real, Watcher?”
“I think I was, once. I’ve been here so long now that it’s hard to be certain. Did you bring something for me?”
I rummage through my pockets and pull out a bright green hummingbird. Its tiny heart flutters in my hand.
She takes the bird from me and in to her outstretched palms.
“Think of this bird as your happiness, Dreamer,” she said. “Don’t hold on to it so tight that you squeeze the life from it.”
She lifts her hands and the hummingbird flies up and out of the observatory, into the blue and green.
“Let it soar,” says the Watcher, smiling. “Let it soar.”
There is literally a stack of these in the files, dated over the course of three months, all written by different people and all detailing the same dream. Further entries from the study can be found here – C.R.