Dream Room

 
Hiding
I feel safe in the Dream Room.
And spend most of my time here.

I sleep too much, even during the day.
Shazira says that I’m still healing.

It may be true.
But I feel that I’m hiding from the rest of the Watchtower and the world beyond it.

This room is a private space for Shazira and me, the guardians of the Watchtower.
The room opens only for us, and our guests.

Tzina is allowed here.

When I chased after Tzina yesterday, I found her with her mother.
Shazira sent me away, and told Tzina about travelers and Embu.

Shazira told Tzina that I’m still her father.
But Tzina won’t look me in the eyes when I meet her.
And she doesn’t come to play with me.

 
A Canopy of Color and Energy
The Dream Room is more than a place to sleep.
And the dreams that give this room its name aren’t the ordinary dreams that fill the night.

A large, round bed rises in the center of the room, surrounded by 8 stone spotlights that rest on the floor.
Spaced evenly around the circle, the spotlights are wide cylinders that narrow slightly to a flat top and bottom.

The outside of each cylinder is covered with bark.
The inside lined with colored crystal, and polished like a geode.

When activated, the cylinders surround the bed with light and energy.
Each cylinder resonates, and connects with the cylinder opposite it, on the other side of the ring.

The energy and light from one spotlight is drawn towards the energy and light of its pair.
Two rays of light rise and bend toward each other, joining over the bed, to form an arch of light and color.

The four arches cross each other, and form a canopy for the bed.
A DreamNet.

The cylinders are configured using the symbols that I saw on the harbor wall.
Set the cylinders with the right symbols, and the DreamNet opens our sleeping minds to another world.

A DreamSchool.
A powerful learning environment designed to take over our dreams, and give us years of training in a single night.

Shazira tells me that Yagrin never used the DreamNet.
But I feel something pulling at me, when I look at the cylinders.

I need Yagrin’s skills to find my place here.
And I don’t have time for years of training.

Shazira shakes her head when I suggest using the DreamNet.
“Too dangerous,” she says.
“Find another way.”

 
Memories
I examine every detail of the room, to try to awaken more memories.

The bed has a round frame decorated with silver metal grillwork.

There are wooden squares, with Celtic designs, scattered through the frame.
Carved out of a black hardwood, and inlaid with gold.

The wooden panels are centered vertically and appear every two to three feet along the grill.
Completely surrounding the bed.

There are small rugs that cling to the floor.
And the walls are slightly curved, like all the outer rooms.

On the left wall are bookcases made from a familiar black wood, and a round table/desk.

Many of the books are leather-bound.
They are all ancient, but none seem brittle.
Why do they still keep books, when they have the multi-sensory recordings, called memcubes?

I pick up one of the books, and as I start to open it I hear an unpleasant high frequency sound.
And I’m overcome with nauseau.

The sound and nauseau disappear when I close the book.

A voice within me says that the book is locked.
And holds the settings for the DreamNet.

On the left wall, there’s a cabinet with drawers and shelves.
It’s full of papers and scrolls, maps and blueprints.

I remember a map of a distant land, and I think of the strange animal whose shape Tzina took.
“Bizra,” says a distant, inner voice.
And I remember that Yagrin was afraid of them.

The right wall is dominated by a great wooden storage chest.
Dark brown with silver hinges, and carved with ornate designs.

Among other items, there’s a neatly folded robe inside.
And a memory of Yagrin’s mother.

There are two dressers.
Each shaped like a curved V.

The bottom of the V is attached to a large round base.
The smallest of the drawers is two feet wide, and the dresser is six feet tall.

There’s a round mirror between the two dressers.
The mirror looks like glass, but it enhances the image of everything that it reflects.
Objects look brighter and sharper than they appear in ordinary light.

I remember Shazira smiling at me, taking a dress out of one of the drawers.
And holding the dress in front of the mirror.

I hear a bird call in the distance, and my attention turns to the windows.
And two glass doors, that open onto the deck.

The doors meet in the center of the wall at the tip of the egg.
The left door forms the left half of a circle, and the right door completes the circle.
Each door is framed in brown wood, and looks vaguely like a French door.

There are other windows throughout the room, including two beautiful round windows.
These windows lie about seven feet from the tip of the egg on each side.

Each window is covered with a large piece of opaque white fabric with embroidered designs.
The curtains lay on the window and are full of curves and twists.

If I touch the fabric once, it slips off the window, folds itself up, and lays flat on the floor.
When I pick up the fabric and touch it to the window, it opens up, floats across the window, and adjusts itself into its prior beautiful shape.

There are drawings hanging on the wall between the doors and the windows.
And there are five small sculptures, shaped of dark blue stone, each standing on its own small white table.
The tables are scattered through the room.

Each moving sculpture is unique.
And beautiful to watch.
But there’s more.

When I focus on a sculpture, the table and the sculpture glow.
And I’m filled with an image of the table and sculpture standing quietly within an alien landscape.
Worlds created and shaped by the sculptor’s mind.

These are not memories.
The sculpture projects these images.

The worlds are beautiful, but somehow troubling.
As if they could swallow me up.

The sculptures, and the worlds within, rise from Tzina’s mind.