A month or two ago, I awoke to the feeling that something was off. The air was heavy, and moving through the world felt sort of hazy; and I wasn’t the only one. Everyone I talked to in my town felt it as well, but we didn’t know what to make of it. This odd feeling lasted for the rest of the week, during which all of us had exceptionally vivid dreams. I kept a journal of mine.

Day 1
I was in an airplane, although I don’t remember where I was flying to. It was one of those airbus-types that had a second floor, although instead of more seating or a lounge, there was instead a garden/atrium type thing, which, in retrospect, was quite nice. I also remember the carpet along the walkway being a red and white houndstooth pattern. I became very anxious, worried that the plane was going too fast and would cause sonic booms that would disturb the people living in the houses below, and I kept trying to measure the speed of the airplane by looking at the ground. The stewards would also keep asking if I wanted drinks over and over again, every few seconds, which became very aggravating. My seat partner was a man and what I assume to be his son. The dad kept telling the son that “air pressure is what makes a man a man”. The anxiety about the plane speed and the incessance of the stewards caused me to wake up in a cold sweat. It was one of those nightmares that is very stressful in the moment, but you wake up and realize that it was pretty stupid.

Day 2
I found myself in an infinitely large library made of white marble. Bookshelves stretched off in both directions and met the horizon. The shelves were lined with a deep red velvet, which matched the carpets that lined the smaller alleys between the bookshelves. The ceiling, while providing lighting for the area below, was quite dark, giving an oppressive feeling. It was completely silent, save for the clack of my boots on the marble floor when I was walking along the main, larger walkways. I was completely alone. Eventually, however, I found a librarian, sitting at a desk, fiddling with books - an old woman, with silver hair and large glasses made of that mottled plastic that was fashionable in the 70s. I asked her where the exit was, and she said there was none. I asked her how there was no exit, and she curtly replied, “Because this is hell”. I said “How can this be hell? It’s such a nice library!” and she said “Because you have all the knowledge in the world at your fingertips, but no way to use it.” I woke up, ruminating on her words.

Day 3
I was in the front row of a theater watching a stage play, being put on by people with fish heads. I don’t remember what the play was about at all, although one part had a set where one actor was standing on a balcony, talking to one on the ground. At one point, a very tall woman with voluminous hair walked onto the stage, although the fish people ignored her. She crouched down on the edge of the stage in front of me, and held up a pamphlet. “Can you read this?”, she said. I could not; all the letters were shifting around on the page. I said I couldn’t. “Think about why that is.” she said, and walked offstage. A man with a burlap sack over his head offered me a cup of tea. I accepted, and he poured me a cup. As I drank, I accidentally dropped the little plate the teacup rested on, and it fell to the ground. The bottom of my teacup was affixed to the plate, but I was still holding the top, causing the middle section to stretch out as the plate fell. Hitting the ground, it shattered in spectacular fashion, and time slowed down. The room began to fill with tea, and all of the performers began to panic and run around. I woke up, again quite stressed out.

Day 4
My apartment, which was also part of a ship, was rocking back and forth, since we were out on the open ocean. I kept complaining that I couldn’t open the windows to get any fresh air, since the waves would crash through the windows. Someone knocked at my door. Once at the door, I realized someone had slipped something under it; the pamphlet from last night’s dream. I still could not read it. The TV (my mom’s old CRT) was tuned to the news, where the reporter was stating that it was a new law that everyone needed their wallet and keys on them at all times. I felt my pockets, and realized I didn’t have them. I searched my house in a panic, but couldn’t find them. A girl who was suddenly there said “why don’t you check locally?“. I woke up, found my real wallet and keys on my desk, and went back to bed.

Day 5
I am in a jazz club, sitting at dinner with the pamphlet woman from day 3. A band is performing on stage, a song I do not remember. The singer is also dancing; she is twisting her hips and arms in a kind of eerie way, and then repeating the motion perfectly in reverse, going back and forth, back and forth. I find her voice beautiful. The saxophone player sounds as though he is playing in reverse. I am transfixed by the singer until the woman I am eating with interrupts me. “Isn’t this a great show?” she says. I say it is. She leans in close, like she is going to kiss me. She says, “have you ever noticed that the word ‘say’ backwards is the word ‘yes’? I always found that interesting. It’s like playing ping pong with your mind.” I look down and our table has suddenly become a hole, and we fall in. I look around and noticed the other guests are also falling. Some of them suddenly become surrounded by green light. I am not sure whether I woke up then, or if there’s more to the dream that I forgot.

Day 6
I am in a subway train, with other passengers. I sit idly on a seat, staring out the window as the briefly lit sections of the tunnel pass by. Suddenly, everyone on the train drops limp to the ground. I look around, confused. All at once, they begin shaking violently, faster than a seizure. They look unnaturally blurry, especially their faces, like they were photos taken with a long exposure. The train moves faster, and the people begin wailing. It builds to a crescendo, and their faces are all contorted in a horrible way, like a baby screaming. The train stops at the station and I rush off to an empty platform. I fall to the ground in exhaustion and wake up, more tired than when I fell asleep.

Day 7
I fell asleep on a bus, and the movements influenced my dreams. I was walking down the sidewalk, and the entire street was wobbling back and forth with the waves propagating towards me, like shaking a long slinky. I was sloshing and wading through the concrete of the sidewalk as if they were liquid, but they still looked solid. Suddenly, I had the thought: “it would be easier just to work with things as they are.” I was suddenly able to walk on the solid concrete again.