Hello Hello and Welcome to this week’s six-sentence story, based on the word CAROUSEL. I went about 16 dark places with this, and yes, apparently the word can inspire some pretty good horror, but instead I went to a slightly different place, well a dream really. It’s a bit odd, but for once no warnings apply, so I hope you enjoy!
Sometimes when I am dreaming, there is a moment when I realise that this is a dream, and usually that is when I decide to wake up, because the possibility that I might be late overwhelms my desire to try lucid dreaming.
Tonight, for the first time I had kept going onwards, and exploring the increasingly unrealistic dreamscape my mind had created, which was something akin to a rainforest, if the rainforest was coloured by a child with only neon paints.
The most unrealistic part of it all was the complete lack of heat or humidity, the entire place was perfectly temperate in a way I rarely experienced, though I thought I must have overdone it yesterday, because the pain in my legs could be felt in the dream as I walked along.
I laughed aloud when I figured out that I was dreaming of Faerie, and while it was strange that this is how I had conjured it, because this is not how I had imagined it, the increasing number of mushroom circles I had seen definitely pointed in that direction.
I wondered absently if they all went to different places, were they like single use portals, a fountain alternative, but it was only as I bit into the apple that I didn’t notice myself picking, the tart juice bringing my taste buds the life, that the whole place came into focus in a way that made me suddenly terrified.
I tried to wake up, but to no avail, my mind spinning with a carousel of thoughts, that kept coming back round to hit me with the unescapable truth, that this was not a dream, I had eaten the food in Faerie, and I would never be able to go home again.
Biting into that apple reminded me of Genesis 3 and eating the forbidden fruit with the consequence of not being able to go home again (at least not under one’s own power). Well told tale.
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Trapped in a dreamscape. Terrifying! Great SIX.
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A scary and well done six!
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Fae are tricky like that. Dammit!
You may be released however, in a couple hundred years.
Delightful, dreamy Six!
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Lucid dreaming!
Been so long* since I’ve thought about that particular form of reality!
good Six!
* there is a perversity to the universe, at least in my own experience, that age (and aging) decreases the capacity for lucid dreaming.
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