A Parable of World Dilapidation by Degeneracy and Disillusionment
I have attempted here to be as accurate and detailed as possible in recounting a dream I had on 12/09/2011.
I stood upon a tall hill, distinctively mound-like in nature, with two extremely good friends in a very familiar, wilderness place. We desired to descend the hill to our camp and fishing location, presumably a small mountain lake. I do not know how we arrived at our present station or how long we had been there.
Between our aloft location and far-off destination, there were various observations of note: 1) the down-slope of the hill was minimally precarious—mildly rocky, mostly-bare ground with sparse vegetation; 2) the trail down was clearly worn; 3) immediately beginning at the hill’s base was a stretch of open, grassy plains—possibly 1,000 yards worth; 4) these plains resembled the denseness and tone of a harvestable wheat field; 5) beyond the field stood a semi-dense forest part, which would in estimation take 30 minutes to navigate and was a known home to many dangerously crafty and wild animals; 6) the forest was visibly dark and ominous; 7) a second trail moved West—left in my dream, for I never knew the sun’s location—and purposefully remained on the outskirts of the forest; 8) this western trail maintained a less dramatic slope down the hill and featured a paucity of wild beasts, therefore undoubtedly making it the safer route; 9) navigating this route would be time-consuming—possibly triple the travel time of the forest course—and also messy due to its massively muddy and winding disposition; 10) I was fully wilderness-prepared—food, blankets, tools, fuel, and weapons; 11) there had been much recent rainfall, but the grasslands were dry; 12) thick, gray clouds completely covered the sky, and a new and assumingly awful downpour was impending; 13) a chill had overcome the air and was coercing a gradual increase in velocity; 14) despite our anxiety to obtain camp and the deteriorating climate, the air, scenery, and circumstance were overall refreshing, the mood was sufficiently pleasing, and the surroundings seemed quite content; 15) these states, though, did not destroy in me the detection of impending destruction.
Because of the poor weather, we aimed to arrive at camp as soon as possible. The forest route was therefore most appealing. I strongly counseled my friends that choosing this direction would be unwise; the risk of a wild encounter was too great. Despite my pleading and to my dismay, they were relentlessly insistent on the forest route. I suppose because we did not want to split our group, I conceded to their wishes and decided on moving carefully down the hill, attentively crossing the grassland area, and then briskly, if not hastily, maneuvering through the forest to safety. Before the descent, I divvied my gear between my friends, including giving each friend one of my two machetes. The intent was to not only provide a friendly gesture of sharing but to also lighten my load for the journey.
We marched down the hillside with relative ease and made our way into the open grassland. Near midway into the field, I began to see wildlife activity. A deer or two scampered by, birds flew passed, and I recollect there being many other sundry movements. This quickly made me nervous, but my friends seemed unaware of the escalating commotion. And then it was like lighting had hit. In a flash, a mob of wolves were upon us. I squawked orders to my little band, calling them to seek protection and to preserve unity for strength in numbers. They immediately scampered up onto a black, cast-iron fence (maybe eight feet tall) and perched nervously with machetes drawn. The wolves were noticeably organized, encircling us and maintaining stealth behind small trees and brush (even though we were presently on land populated solely of grasses). One gray wolf entered their circle, lunging at me as I attempted to scale the fence. I raised my hand, attempting to deafen the oncoming blow, and its teeth clamped down on my knuckles, slicing some flesh and scratching my bones. The pain was sharp, but appreciably lighter than what I expected. I began punching madly at the wolf's nose (which was not a typical snout but instead a peculiarly large human nose, much like the enlarged schnoz of Steve Martin in the movie Roxanne). The wolf did relinquish, but this crippled me adequately enough and, sensing the advantage, much of the pack attacked in unison. Three or four wolves were on me instantly. I had been overtaken, and I awoke from the dream.
From the first moment I had been attacked by the first wolf to being blitzed from all sides, I pleaded my friends for help. But there they sat, motionless on the fence, not but three yards distant. They had my weapons and supplies but would not aid me. Were they too scared? Why had their loyalty vanquished? It was made abundantly evident in my dream that their succor (with the machetes) would have defeated these beasts. I could not believe they had deserted me. I had spared them provisions and my weapons. And these were the best of friends.
I returned to sleep some short time later and dreamt of recapitulating this dream to a friend. As I stood with him recounting the events, I reentered my original dream. This was the beginning of my dream within a dream, which continued as the first except for slight variations: 1) it was raining; 2) there was a large creek (swollen with rainwater) at the base of the hill just before the golden plains; 3) this creek was extremely swift and awkward to ford, and the water rapidly and remarkably rose with every second, increasingly causing instability of locomotion and also general discouragement.
I awoke by the sound of my alarm shortly after conquering the creek. I was quite curious about what additionally would have been added or changed in the second dream had I remained asleep.
An in-depth interpretation will be published as a future entry.
