Existence

Who am I once I fall asleep? Who is this dream-self, this person so like me yet so utterly different? How, once slumber has taken its hold, do I know his world, his life, his thoughts? We are like two people existing in one body. My consciousness becomes tangled in his, giving me the eerie feeling that I am at once a participant and a passenger here.

This again. This place that is both odd and oddly familiar. The concrete walls stretching high overhead, the gravel floor, the single massive doorway leading to a grey world outside, and the enormous ramp, obviously built to handle something very large or a great many small things at once. Where does it lead? Even my dream-self doesn't know. We never go there.

In the floor, near the wall, is a hole. Beside the hole, a pile of rock. The hole is shallow, empty, pointless. I made this hole, not now, but another time. A darker time. And there were others here then. Was I searching for something? I can't remember. I can't remember digging, I only know I did. The hole is a reminder that I've been here before.

Maybe not so pointless...

That ledge up there, just beyond the ramp... I've stood there looking down here. That time I came upon this place from above, climbing down a rocky ledge until my feet touched concrete. That time, there was no high cement ceiling to keep out the sky, but it was still this place. The hole was there then, too. And the others.

My dream-self moves about as though he knows our purpose here. We stand at the edge of the hole, but not looking at the hole. I am in awe at the sheer size of this bizarre structure, while my dream-self shows no interest in our surroundings at all. He is preoccupied. I know, because I feel it too, but by what I don't know. I am much more the passenger now.

But I want to know more. What is the purpose of this place? What lies outside the door? Where are the others? This body is my body too and I will it to turn around, to see the things I want to see, to go where I want to go. The hole is behind us now, the doorway looming ahead of us. Just a few more steps...

Like every time before this, everything is fading. The walls, the floor, the ramp... everything. I struggle to hold it all together, as if I have the power to keep this world from dissolving into nothingness. But I don't. Like every time before this, I swear I will remember everything, even after it ceases to exist, although I know in my core that I won't. But it doesn't matter... I'll be back. I always come back here.

Now, my dream-self has slipped off into the shadows, stealing his memories away with him. I am alone, in my bed, surrounded by the familiarity I call "life".

And there was something I was supposed to remember...

Edit: While I truly do have this weird feeling like I lead a totally different life in my dreams, reading over this I realize that I probably shouldn't blog under the influence of heavy cold medication!