In the vastness of a dream, you find the sea, or something like it. Waves crash against a pale shore that stretches to the horizon, like the dark water it contains. Seagulls wheel and cry out, calling to each other (though if you listen hard, listen long, they don't sound like seagulls, or even like birds at all).
Breath comes in clouds. Winter is here. The shore beneath your feet is snow and ice, but it's cold white sand, too. Perhaps, here, the difference is too miniscule to discern.
//"My memories of you are here, in the sea," says a voice far away. "I don't think you'll have much trouble finding them. But they'll come to you, if you do."//
[[The water accepts you easily. In a dream like this, the sea only affects you as much as you want it to.->1]]
It's easy to move here. The water is cold, but it seems that this is more for atmosphere, more because it's something you might prefer.
You could go anywhere you wanted, without fear of harm. As far as you can see, and further than that, you can travel with the slightest thought.
[[There is light in the fathomless depths, sinking into darkness.->3]]
[[Something is calling up above, with a voice that doesn't sound human. Something is singing with a voice that is like no animal you have ever heard.->2]]
[[You could walk, slowly, and follow the slope of the seafloor, and you would find something.->4]]
The song is cold and dark, like the water that filters it down to you. In it, there is a depth that could swallow you.
In the echoing depths of that song lies a memory that falls over you.
//It might be odd, to see yourself in a world you have never visited. Ice and snow and deep, dark water lay themselves out before you; there is the bleak softness of a long night and a winter that never ends. Frost forms on the trees. Your breath comes cold as you roam.
There is always something new here; something to find, something to discover. The ruins and the abandoned places of another time, another place, another world. Ashen and lonely; disconnected and gone.
Endlessly curious, the you that exists in this world moves from place to place. The person whose memory it is follows behind, content to see what new mystery you've unearthed; what you've made of it.
"I know so much more than I used to because of you," says that faint, echoing voice. "The way you see things is worth a lot to me, you know?
Or - I guess you don't know. I know we don't talk, not that much, or at least -- not like this, but-- it's easier, this way. With these words, to...to express what you've changed in me.
I'm happy. For this chance. To see the world, even a little, the way you do."//
[[The song ends; the memory fades. Some frost lingers, but even that is fleeting.->1]]
Even in the deepest darkness, light persists. It shines like a star that fell, long ago, into the sea.
There is a loneliness to it, when you find it. It left the sky, and sank into deep water; it misses the home that bore it for so long.
In holding it, light spills forth. It offers no warmth cradled in your hands, but there is a uniqueness to it that can be found nowhere else.
//In a light that once illuminated the vast emptiness of a void, a light that was born when the world was young, a memory takes shape.
Colour and shadow, lines and curves and sharp points. What they convey is different every time you look, but they come alive in ancient light, windows to a different time and place. Visions of another world.
It might be strange, seeing your creative efforts through different eyes than your own. But it's a cherished mix of memory to the one who created it, and it resonates with a fierce joy.
"I don't know what you'll think of this one," admits that distant voice, in a tone that might be considered embarrassed. "I don't really know what you think about what you create. You've never really talked about it.
But it //feels// like you. No matter what you do, it always feels like you. And I think that's something to treasure."//
[[The star blazes with a fierce heat, rising out of your hands. You rise out of the memory, the same way.->1]]
You walk, slowly. Deeper into water. It envelops you, quietly, without a sound.
There is an emptiness to the sea, an acceptance that comes when there is little else left to give. It welcomes you in with no resistance at all, and you sink.
In its embrace, in the stillness that comes with an absence of anything else, a memory flows over you; an underwater current, the only thing moving in this silent world.
//This memory is fragmented, full of shards; brief and frail.
The images are soft and indistinct, impressions of a person that are hard to make out. But they leave behind warmth, a feeling of contentment. The impression that even these brief encounters are something to be grateful for.
"I don't understand a lot about you," says that distant voice. "But it's okay, I think. It's enough to coexist, in the same time, at the same place...but that said, I...
I've never thought to ask about you, a lot of the time. I don't know if that's how you wanted it, or not, but...
I should do better, I think. I'm sorry."
There is a tinge of sadness, in that echo. It rings in the emptiness that surrounds you like a bell.//
[[The water releases you, just as easily as it held you. You can walk away.->1]]