An Indie Game, Darkening Halls, Mysterious Notes

Date: 9/18/2020

I was in third person, watching myself— but almost as a narrator. It reminded me of a video game. Actually, it reminded me a lot of Playdead’s Inside (a game I enjoyed a lot). If it were a video game it would have almost the same graphics and/or animations as playdead, I think; maybe with an opposite color scheme at first, but still. And it would have similar gameplay and sound effects, too. I started outside, and I had almost a mission, something I was so firmly set on doing that it didn’t even cross my mind to question it or to turn back; the air was fresh morning air, cool but not cold and smelling of the end of summer; and I stood atop a tall building overlooking a strangely small and quiet city. The usual hustle and bustle was just nonexistent, I couldn’t hear anything except natural sounds, like the soft wind when it blew and the occasional bird or other natural thing; but no cars, no chatter, nothing. Maybe it was because I was up so high, all I could hear was the wind around me. But I didn’t see anything below, either— as in, I saw no cars or traffic, no people; no movement, again, besides birds. There were misshapen boards and precarious ladders connecting different buildings’ rooftops to one another, which I used like dangerous bridges to cross from skyscraper to skyscraper. There was a particular one, tall and softly shiny, a light blue from the reflected sky, that I wanted to get to. Like in a video game, it was the end; there were no other ‘bridges’ past that one. Everything lead to that building, to what seemed to be the end. The building was taller than the rest by a little; bigger around by a lot; and it appeared very large to me, who felt so small. In the dream I wore a white cape that made me look almost dreamy as I ran, arms outstretched, across those skyscraper rooftops. My long hair was tied back in a simple loose ponytail, secured by something I couldn’t see (maybe my own hair). It, too, flew behind me; in the dream it seemed more pastel— not lighter, it was still the usual blondeish-golden-strawberryish-darkening-to-brunette-inside color that describes my regular hair, but, like almost everything else in the dream, it was softer, not as bright or harsh or contrasting. It looked silkier, almost, even feathery. My skin was smoother too, much smoother, and although it was still pale, it was somehow just softer, like everything else. Even my features seemed more delegate; all except my eyes, which remained their same shape, same grayish blue with a dark ring around the iris, and same long dark lashes. If anything it made the rest of me seem even more soft in comparison. Below the white cape-like garment that flapped behind me when I ran, I was wearing something simple. Boots halfway up my shins, worn and rounded, lightly colored— tan or brown, I think. A loose tunic-like shirt with nothing on it, just a plain, similarly pastel color, and maybe a small string that connected the otherwise-V-neck slit down the front like stitches. Leggings that weren’t as tight as they probably should have been (perhaps they were too big) that were only slightly darker than my boots and also plain. I had my bell necklace on, with the golden bell in; and as I moved it was particularly noticeable. Every step gave that sprightly, beautiful jingle, still soft (not obnoxious, like Christmas jingle bells) and yet very clear. It seemed important somehow, although I could only see the chain, because (just like in real life) the necklace was tucked beneath my shirt. Regardless, it stood out in my mind. The far distance / background was light blue, super baby blue, with pale greens and turquoises making up shapes I didn’t fully recognize (mountains? Forests?). Anyways, once I got to the main building, I climbed to the rooftop and there I saw that the roof was entirely made of glass. Below I could see the top floor, organized neatly in some sort of office setting— except some things had been thrown out of place. A few papers were scattered on the floor, and the desk chair was knocked over. The lamp was off, but flickered once, the first time I saw it. I seemed to know what to do— or at least, my ‘character’ did. Again, I was more of a narrator watching myself. I was just along for the ride. My character (I’ll call myself that from now on, since I seemed more disconnected from it in the dream) ran with light, velvety footsteps across the glass, cape billowing behind like always, and then once she got to the middle(ish) of the rooftop, she took a small leap— she seemed to fly, she was so light; nothing was heavy about her, even gravity seemed reluctant to bring her back down; and when she landed, the grass cracked, and with a very surprisingly small amount of sound (just a little clatter) she fell down to the top floor. The cape came down around her like a parachute below, fluttering as she fell; like a cat she landed, bending her legs and landing in a crouched position, with her arms gently outstretched for balance. Almost immediately she got up, her face showed no emotion besides slight curiosity/wonder. From there, she walked towards the papers on the ground. And then something strange happened. The corners of the room seemed to flicker— at first it could’ve been ignored as simply overactive imagination— but then it became much more apparent that I wasn’t just seeing things. Darkness, in a palpable form, started spreading across the room, closing in towards the middle where my character was shifting through sheets of meaningless (at least, to me) papers. It looked like ink seeping across a paper, the way it slowly spread with reaching tendrils of dark fingers that grasped everything before it; almost like bendy and the ink machine, except it was almost silent, except for a soft noise that was indescribable. My character didn’t seem surprised. She shifted faster and then apparently found what she was looking for, a paper that seemed no different from the rest. As soon as she found it she clutched it in her hand, and ran over towards the actual very center of the room. The floor there was somehow glass, now, and she jumped through it the same way she jumped through the roof. The same thing repeated over and over on every floor, with my character collecting these papers in a race against the ever-nearing darkness that closed in all around her; soon the light from the rooftop was gone, blocked off by darkness above— although somehow she still remained bright as ever. It sounds weird, but although she wasn’t glowing, she remained perfectly visible in the darkness. White garments usually don’t ACTUALLY glow; and when submerged in complete blackness no color of shirt should be able to be seen; and yet my entire character remained as if she were still outside, bathed in light that rendered her visible. Again, she didn’t glow— everything around her was still impacted and changed by the darkness— she just seemed unaffected by it. The deeper she went, the darker it got. Things spiraled down into voids that seemed endless the farther down she went. Soon she had a handful of papers clutched in one hand. Every floor seemed more and more likely to envelop her in its darkness, too; every time it got a little bit closer. It felt as if she were running out of time.