The following is a description of a place I once knew in Dream. There are many places like it; and I have learned to walk among them, though only clumsily for now. If it were my choice, I would say that these are True Dreams; places and events from behind and beyond the veil of sleep that do not change as much as the rest of Dream. Read on, I invite you. Don't get lost.
The Sands of Nane
Lost Country of Lost Things
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The first of the Dreamlands is known to me as the Sands of Nane- the elsewhere-place, in which you are never quite where you think you are. Endless dunes of red, gold, and white sand billow across the horizon, seeming almost to drift when you take your eyes away; among the wispy dust-devils that on occasion kick up, anything that has ever been lost rattles and crunches and burrows in the sand.
Baby teeth, toys, money, car keys, forgotten skeletons, decrepit husks of machines, entire cities fallen first beneath the ground and then out of history- the sand does its best to cover it all, and more often than not, fails. The sky ranges from pale grey to deep, mottled purple. Stare into it at the risk of falling up. Mirages dance and laugh, sent by bored or cruel dream-denizens to taunt dreamers.
Lost is not a condition here; it is a way of life. The scaled lizard-folk who scrabble in the sands work side-by-side with the cat-men of the Sandman's Caravan- all with the goal of finding. Cat's-eye marbles, copper dowsing rods, hag-stones and pendulums and the geomantic texts of those twitching owl-scholars in their aviaries are prized tools of any and all of the sifters, guides, and prophets of these plains. They are wary of outsiders, and doubly as wary of those who return after leaving. "To be lost once is to be lost forever. To be found again is to be lost once more."
If you are lucky, you will sit among them for a night. You will help them to break the cobbles of deserted cities, help them to weather the sandstorms that the Nightmares make in their stampede. You will hear tales of heroes whose deeds mean nothing now, drink brand-new bottles of juice, made from extinct fruits. You will be given feathers and rags, and you will hear laughter among the silks, as children play and dancers entice and those who were lost before are fondly remembered.
If you go, you will not be welcomed back. If you stay, your waking self will go mad. Tread these sands cautiously, and forfeit anything you leave behind. Even the memories will fade, with time. Let them. Perhaps one day the Sandman will lift the veil of silk, and you will find that he has saved all that you lost for this day. But that will not be until the Last Sleep claims you, and there is much more to be found before then.
Until I can get pictures for each of the locations, the Observatory stars will have to suffice. Look out for a change soon!
Return to the Observatory...