Dream Book of TD+28
This transcription presents the collected recordings of the crew's dreams, through which the ship travelled in TD+28. The book is also available for perusal in the archive.
Last night I dreamed that there was a huge needle chasing a cloud. It seemed to be the same thing with very little variation. It was in the same setting the ship is in now. I suppose it is inescapable. The ship is sitting on a cloud that seems to be traveling somewhere very fast, and there is nothing around except blue sky. Though, it seems that something is chasing us. In the dream it is a needle.
I dreamed for the fourth time of the woman who runs in panic. She always feels that she only has a few minutes left to complete her home before her child arrives, and she runs off looking for the piece that will complete her home. When she finds the right scrap - which could take hours of running in panic, she places it on her wall. Then she looks at her home and realizes she has been building it for years. She realizes she needs some reward very badly. She realizes a child must come soon because she feels it intuitively. Then she realizes that if her home is complete the child will choose her over all others. She needs it so badly and she starts to panicking that maybe the child would pick another woman. This makes her start running and frantically searching for what her next piece is. The dream is exhausting.
That needle constantly buzzing in my ear, its both a high pitched and a deep tone and it makes me nauseous. It follows the cloud all night long, yet I never get used to it. Its always exhausting and nauseating just to imagine the pressure between them.
Looking at Cadmus Rysdale and feeling Celia’s emotions for him is strange. They are very much in love, at least if this dream is really Celia’s like everyone says it is. Our reoccurring dreams seem to be getting into each other's heads.
I dreamed I was in the Chaplain’s expanded closet and climbing on the bunk. It was rickety and it wobbled back and forth. I was having fun rocking it until Reverend Wilderness came and told me to get out because it was dangerous, though he was totally exaggerating. I got out and looked at our ship and felt proud to be part of our crew and to understand all we have been through.
I am glad Teddy Hubble set up this dream journal, maybe it will help us figure out all these dreams and to keep our heads straight. Some nights lately the dreams are so strong that I wake up and wonder how they can stop.
This has been my nightmare since childhood. This place where we are, this cloud. When I was a child, I would dream this and it would give me a feeling of agonizing suspense and pressure. I would fall asleep and dream this never ending chase until I awoke in a sweat to my mother giving me a tincture and singing to me. Now, being here makes me uncomfortable.
Since it was my third time having this dream I could really focus on the perspective of the needle. This dream is the strangest for me because we’re in it. Its always cold here and were always uncomfortable because the cloud is traveling so fast. We never see anything off of the cloud but blue sky above, below and as far as you can see to the sides. But in my dream, the needle had so much intensity to it. It travels as fast as it can but can never catch the cloud. Its almost as though they are attached or are one unit, except that the needle wants to change its place in the arrangement. Its dizzying; its almost like hatred.
We’re having our wedding on the deck and I know I can feel every one of Celia’s feelings and she can feel mine. She feels an extreme warmth towards me and is ready for us to be together for all future eras. I know she will be the one who has my children and I will kiss her soon and then we will be together. All of our shipmates are there on the deck watching us look at each other. I wonder in the dream if they can feel what I feel too.
I woke up screaming again. This world of the vapors terrifies me so. There are greasy stacks of glass grey from oil from one perspective and glowing eerie rainbow from another. Each woman is so crazed in their pink frills streaked with rust. Their faces are grey and filled with taught expression. I don’t know how to avoid feeling terrified. What if I, who was once a nameless child, had landed in that world instead of with the shipmates?
This time everyone was in the dream; all of the shipmates, and Celia was terribly upset. We walked together through the maze of scraps, all the while passing crazed women. Once or twice a woman tried to grab at the Captain, but he pulled his hand away. We entered one of those trash castles together and each of us was able to look at something different. I looked at a bed made of stacked metal and small pieces of Styrofoam. There was an intricate pattern of ants moving quickly in and out of the beads. Celia was looking at a pillar made of tiles with a nook set into it.
I came to write my dream from last night, but it would appear that Cadmus had the same one as me and at least a few other crew members. Today over breakfast we discovered that we had all dreamed that we were in the world of the crazy women- most refer to it as the vapours lately. I was looking at a staircase of metal sheets with Thomas when we saw that the woman who built the castle was coming down the stairs. She was terribly old and wrinkled with deep red spots all over. We were terrified and I woke up.
-Captain Preston Reingold
We are always together in the dreams now. Sometimes I feel like there is no separation in our consciousness and I rarely have my individual perspective. In everyday life I have started to wonder if I am having another person’s thoughts. Maybe I am drinking too much Rott.
We know what the sound is. We know what the white, wispy, and tense is. Its the needle and the cloud! THAT FEELING! Like a two magnets being forced together with their sides repelling one another. The needle chases the cloud forever. Are we all having this reoccurring dream again? Is it real now?
There are many women in this world, all infertile and all incapable of letting go of their desire to be loved and beaten. There is a constant supply of trash where they live because they receive junk from other worlds. In their desire to find and fill the uninhabited spaces in their bodies they have started to create homes by wandering through the abandoned conglomerations of scraps, carefully dodging oil puddles to keep their dresses clean. They carefully stack glass into columns and make beds out of old rusty hooks. They build castles piece by piece each day adding a small shard in the hopes of someday receiving an abandoned child to put in their house. In this nightmare one woman runs around frantically searching for the next piece, she is always doing this and is always panicking. Another woman smiles and hums as if she were a child imagining she were a house wife, collecting cups and trying to use them the right way, though she doesn’t know how. A third organizes small pieces into forms, delicately moving her fingers and occasionally licking them.
We were all watching the wedding. Celia was in love and so was Cadmus. He leaned in to kiss her and his body looked like a banana peel blowing in the wind. It just slid over the edge and fell off. Everyone was shocked, but no one could do anything about it. We could feel everything he felt as he fell. It became obvious that he was terrified of never meeting any ground. No one knows if there is anything but sky and maybe Cadmus would fall forever. We all woke up to Cadmus yelling.
I closed my eyes and then when I opened them there were un-familiars in spaces on the ship I had never seen. One man said, I made you this dinosaur, its from Brazil. I was aghast to have a large jaw on the ship, metal wasted and green skin stretched too thin, like flesh chairs; What is Brazil?!. I was terribly upset by the prospect of having this unknown new space wasted on someone who did not wear khaki. I looked over and saw Celia yelling at a man to say that it was not acceptable to put their science experiment, which had exploded, on the pathway. Then we turned around and found that some people had expanded the Chaplain’s quarters and were in the process of building a set of new bunks which they had covered in cloth. We crawled inside and found that they were unstable and too close together. The builders obviously didn’t understand our developed wood technique and had to leave. The Chaplain was so upset her eye was twitching and her microscope was dilating in and out uncontrollably. Then a group of us ventured into the engine room and found that they were adding unnecessary parts to the engine merely for aesthetics. The captain thought their compositions were not pleasant and slipped each washer into a cloth that he wanted to throw overboard. The whole ship was being interrupted by the strangers who had taken it upon themselves to work on our ship with no regard to how these changes would affect Sadie Sadie’s cleaning or the wedding we had all been planning on. How could the wedding go over successfully with someone’s spider web bouncing device on the deck? When I opened my eyes for a third time I was awake and there was a bone next to my bed, with a note written on it much like some I have seen in the archives. Celia had a washer next to her in bed and many shipmates have found similar pieces of the composition on their nightstands. The captain is possessed to put them in the bag from the dream... one he already had on hand.
Lately everyone is disoriented. We talk about the dreams in the morning and then everyone goes to their cold rooms to be alone. We want to understand what’s happening and when no one understands people get frustrated and leave. People are acting strangely and are either saying things that have no bearing in reality, like ‘your panicking like a woman with a rusted dress’ or just not saying anything out of confusion. Writing in this collective book helps me to purge some of the more confusing subconscious clutter.
I had the wedding dream again. Now the dream is not only pure love and innocence. Now there is a feeling of uneasiness because I have had it so many times I know what’s going to happen. Celia and I look at one another with a more tragic love, one that is going to be destroyed any second. And it has become a more intense feeling because we all know that there are so few moments left to feel it. And when I am falling now I feel less afraid of what is going to happen and more afraid that nothing will happen and that I’ll fall forever.
We all spent most of our time halfway submerged in a giant swimming pool. It's shape was like the fractal in a sea shell. As best friends we walked into the water holding each other. We were trying to figure something out. We didn't need to talk about it because we shared a mind. The sum of our thoughts was that this golden feeling was starting to burn around the edges. We needed to retire the corruption from our thoughts. We needed to stop bending into the wrong spirals of circumstance. In some innocent way we were plotting revolution.
A bell started to ring notifying us that we had to leave the water. The pool separated into drops of water that fell off our bodies, sizzled and disappeared on hot concrete. When we left the pool we lost our unified mind.
We entered a dark classroom. The teacher was an old man in a wheelchair with a deep-set expression of grumpiness. He projected a sepia-tone dream on a giant screen, who's dream it was we didn't know. The most striking scene showed best friends hugging in a fountain, although most of the dream detailed their separation through some terrible and gruesome circumstance. Rain started to pound the tin roof of the classroom.
Back on the ship we saw all of our bodies sleeping, yet the lights were still on. We went around turning off the lights waiting to re-join those bodies we didn't know we had left. An abrupt noise came from the deck: "Hey!" someone appeared to be floating through the mist alongside the ship. Their figure was obscured by an elaborate sculptural costume and they appeared to have the head of an unfamiliar animal. The figure spoke again: "Do you know where they went?" It seemed they had gone somewhere, but where had they gone? Who exactly were we talking about? The figure's voice held some long-lost nostalgia: "They have a great power, they need to realize this before…" The feeling was understood without need for words. We had to remember our shared mind, we had to remind our life fractal not to shrivel. The degradation of the edges around the golden feeling began to loose their bearing. As the figure spoke little pools of water began forming on the deck.
Today we all had the dream that Cadmus and Celia were getting married. They were dressed well and we were all terrified of what would happen next. We have all dreamed it so many times that we hate to have it because we know what will happen next. They looked at one another and loved each other and were terrified. Then, when Cadmus usually leans in to kiss Celia he simply grabbed her, pulled her close, kissed her and then turned around and leapt off of the ship. We all just watched, amazed to see him doing something different in the dream we had all seen so many times. We could all feel him falling and this time he seemed contented and comfortable, accepting. Has anyone been able to sleep? Has everyone been drinking rott?
Was it a dream that Cadmus jumped off the ship? We have all dreamed it so many times but it seemed somehow different yesterday… For one thing his body didn't bend in a bizarre ways, seemingly swept by some anomalous wind. It seems he jumped rather than wait for a nauseatingly repetitive fate, although the pain in seeing him go still rings through us at high volume. Especially Celia, who can't stop weeping, perhaps that is part of the volume. It seems a sound has been building though. We can all hear it, we can hear one another hearing it, we can't block Celia's feelings out of our own nor can we block the sound. If wind encapsulated human sorrow, crazed sleeplessness, and a lack of direction that would describe the sound. The sound was at its quietest around the time we all began noticing similar events and images in our dreams. Now that we're in a landscape that replicates Sadie’s - and now the entire crew’s - reoccurring dream.
Oh the sound! The weightlessness! The feeling is as if freedom was merely free for lack of gravity. Naturally there is enough atmosphere and gravity to stay on the ship, but the feeling is as if gravity was only an outline, with no color inside. Perhaps our adrenals are taxed from stress and grief, from processing one another's feelings as well as individual emotions. Perhaps our hormones and neural circuitry are what lack distinct color. Everything feels fused and white, wispy and tense. We know whatever trans dimension on the outskirts of has instilled some monumental change in the physics of the crew… or is it us who are changing the world we are currently sailing through? Either way there is this confusion of identity, we share a headache that has sunk into the solar plexus. There is no longer a distinction between who has written entries in this journal. We noticed our dreams and feelings were creeping into one another's minds, the reason for the journal. It is not apparent if we are awake or dreaming, but we are trying to record whatever this is with Somnograms either way.
Edith is malfunctioning. Our teacher has a metal womb and cant stop shaking, lacks control scares me. Lacks control. Come and see me no abandoned child: One big fish, a metal structure: House!
We were so absorbed in that feeling. The repelling magnets of the needle and the cloud. If this were a dream what would it mean? We were so absorbed in that feeling, of trying to write feelings of dreams, or whatever, we didn't even notice. We didn't notice when the tsunami came. Maybe it was a waterfall, maybe it was always there. We did notice when we were falling down this adrenaline rush of a waterfall. We thought: "Everyone should experience this!" we thought: "How are we going to get out?"
Beneath the wave there was a whole new landscape.
The first thing we noticed was the sand. Never had we seen sand so white!
I'm pretty sure I set up the Somnogram. Is it on? I think I need sleep? I am my favorite character. Wait, which one am I? Oh, but maybe we aren't actually dreaming…
I haven’t seen Cadmus since the dream Celia cries about. Haven’t had that dream for a while either.
It seems we are in the outskirts of this dimension, there are simply miles of white sand dunes. Nomads seem to travel by parade, they pay us no mind, its as if we exist only as insects to them.
There is someone screaming. We follow the sound. We should have realized what it would be. The vapors, we see them in their wasteland. There are also dunes here, but there is more broken glass than sand. How many people? Are they wearing prom dresses? We find the source of the scream. She is running around looking frantic. We try to qualm her, but like the nomads she pays us no mind. We need to talk to someone here because there's some feeling… Hunger?
Looking back on the previous entry the hunger is remembered. We're trying to keep track of things in this journal, otherwise we get distracted. Things are terrifying and beautiful here. The Somnogram is set up somewhere too? I see my hands are pale and dusty. Who's hands are these? Hungry. Remember to find food. There must be some here. The ship has some. The ship is broken! That's what needed to be written. The ship must be food. Fixed. Find food on the ship, it broke when we fell. We fell down a waterfall. Oh, we're back. Note: food has been found in the ship. The ship is broken.
We discovered some of what lies beyond the sand and glass. There is dense hilly forest, we hope to use lumber from it to repair surface damage on the ship. There is some trepidation, for there are lights that shine through the foliage and we can't find their origin. It often feels like someone is watching us.
Everything seems to have joined. There is a pool in the valley beneath the forest, (the water is potable!). Around and within the forest there are all these staircases, they don't seem to lead anywhere. Occasionally there comes a rustling from behind, looking around all one can see is a bizarre trail. The trail is black like smoke, but has the texture of the warped looking glass heat creates.
I love you. I'd like to paint you a picture of your emotions that you could keep in your wallet, hang on your walls. We'll stick together like dogs. I exist because you do.
Remember the dream? First I found you when your mind was fused, found you in pools. All those barren frantic women were Celia missing her imagined future. Sometimes the evil twists of our fates are unavoidable. I killed Cadmus. I blasted those expectations, special for you! It brought you together though, didn't it? I could poison your mind, tangle your heart strings, kill your loved ones. I could bring you sweet tokens and listen to your dreams.
There has been an update: we all spent most of our time in a giant pool when we found it in the valley of this landscape. When we leave to find out bodies sleeping on the ship we tie ourselves with twine to stay connected. That following feeling was someone new, an animal, it seems to fancy itself a shaman. It keeps threatening us, it followed us in the Forrest finally revealing itself in the pool. It wrote the last entry, it is called “Yip.”
Yip is here to help - another manifestation of group dreams? We have a lot on our minds. Obviously, the landscape is dense. The ship is repaired on the surface, and we’ve found means to stay alive. We’re getting used to the collective dream. We stay more focused. We look at our hands often to remind ourselves we are dreaming (or something?) the ship still needs something. Something delicious.
Yip says we are stressed. Its ok, crew life is stressful. Our adrenals lack glue. Fuel is what the ship needs. Trying is the tired synapse pattern that needs to be re-set in stillness. Put into painting form our emotions are complex and beautiful. What creatures we are!
No one really noticed until now that the terrible wind noise from the needle and the cloud is completely gone! What a relief! Although, it never bothered us after the tsunami. Now there seems to be a pleasantly nostalgic humming in the distance. The immediate thought upon registering the new sound is simply: “oh, ancestors!”
We know what was wrong with the ship: it needed sleep! Go go go go we tell it, we tell that to ourselves! The prefrontal cortex needed to connect with the amygdala! Everyone needed rest, everyone needed connection. Deep cerebral waves have rocked our ship in the dimension. We will wake up with our colors filled in again. What the ship needed was fuel. Yip has brought us Rott (not to be confused with Rot) from the forest, it is the dream strain. As we drink the rot a sort of ease presents itself, a neural union.
The context we live in is the only context we have. Our life is our context so we cannot postpone joy!