I will admit foremost that I think and propound at an obsessive level. I think not of mundane matters, but of fantastical visions that occur outside of the conscious world, visions which some may call dreams. They burden my daily thinking and distort my social life. Periods of phantasmagoria will occur to me on the most unsuspecting night. I have seen the terror, wonderment, fear, and splendor of fictive tales. The moment I lay unconscious could see me walking through an endless mansion hall, with rooms that manifest a well-crafted portrait on the outside, but arrant evil within. I have been showered with glistering rubies from an overhead firedrake, not knowing what to make of the gleaming gems that lay blinking on the midnight dew. I cannot help but hold back these secrets, as I doubt a productive way of sharing these experiences in person, especially with feeble proficiency in vocal storytelling, or open conversation for that matter. My thoughts become too occupied that I sometimes leave my conscious mind blank, creating awkward gaps in discussion. So here I lay a display of each dream, like paintings in a corridor, for curious viewers to not only experience, but to explore the identity of the author as they would any famous artist, whose life and death are engraved in plaque.
So I have before you my sanctuary, a place you and I have yet to discover. I have no inkling of what will become of this place or how long it will last, which is why it is slowly sinking. But for now it will serve us as a haven, where dreams come and stay.
Welcome.
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