Usually in my dreams, I’m in just another t-shirt and jeans. Usually with hiking boots. Unless I’m with the Shamblings, then I’m in business casual. Something about the juxtaposition of sitting among forces of decay while appearing so prim and proper just feels right to me. (And I think they appreciate it. It would take an essay to explain why.) The colors of what I’m wearing usually don’t matter. I have no tabard to display.
Last night I had an errand to run. Take something from Point A, and deliver it and a message to Person B. As I picked up the parcel, I found I was in all light blue. I haven’t any clothes in the Waking that color, nor have I ever worn that color so this is not a random memory. I investigated myself and concluded the color choice was intentional but I don’t know why. Looking back, I realize that when running messages and parcels for others, I was more often in light blue than I wasn’t. The cloak was black as ever, but my long sleeve tunic and pants were “lightly clouded sky blue”.
I put the color concern to the side and completed my errand in the City. The recipient was glad to have her parcel and package and asked me to convey her gratitude to the sender. Not a problem. Since the sender is not of the City, I didn’t have to stick around afterward. I have had my full of intrigue for the month.
I’m not sure where I jumped to. Some place over looking a river. Pine tree forest beneath me in the valley. Granite mountain behind me. The outcropping was just large enough for me to be comfortable. It would take a professional rock-climber to get to where I was, if this were the Waking.
There was only the river over there, the wind over here, the mountain cupping me, and me all alone. And that is how I spent the rest of the dream until the sun set and I laid down on the exposed rock.
To fall asleep was to wake up.
Good morning.