The Prophet of Dreams

There once was a man who found his system suddenly inverted...his daily life was filled with strange imagery, impossible feats, apocalyptic pleasures, and erotic tragedy. Once night fell and his eyes dropped shut, probability defined events instead of imagination, and calm settled over him even though he craved the rush of his waking life.

Soon his ability to maneuver through his day was impeded and he was forced to allow the full force of his reality to sweep him away. Whirling without limit he would find himself atop a mountain on the other side of the world with a strange arctic insect buzzing about his ears waiting for a tiny bit of skin to be exposed to a deadly bite. His fatigue would overtake him and he would find himself sipping coffee at his kitchen table reading the sports page. The relief was indescribable.

The dream would pass without incident and he would hold his eyes shut as long as he could. Flipping the lids up he would see a vast tract of pine covered grassland. Untouched by humanity prior to his arrival, he would nonetheless come across a carpet laid out perfectly between two identical firs. The swirling reds and browns and blacks of the rug against God's canvas created a hallucinatory effect and his bare feet hovered over it, feeling the man-made moss and marveling at the elephant next to his big toe.

The rug jerked beneath him and he fell into an Indian sit. Haltingly it raised to the first level of branches of the tree, which lightly brushed his arm. In a shot he was above the trees and the landscape spread out beneath him like a fan in front of a beautiful queen.

This time, the arrival of his nightly routine dream was not a relief...