Dream Journal Ultimate
Date: 4/7/2017
By Cj
There was an art called something like "truth spinning," something like hyperbole or lying, stigmatized like lying. i went to work at a summer camp this summer. I wasn't excited about it. I really didn't want to deal with the kids, so I led them through something like a crop/corn maze on a wooden dock and left them at the end. (the art of truth spinning) Below ground, something was happening; something was coming. A bad guy, or a bad thing of sorts. An urban realm full of souls wss encroaching on the natural land, starting in small corners only few could see. A wise employee led me underground into a dirt hallway with large, round stones lining the walls and a 90° elbow. It should have been empty, but as i walked forward and turned the corner, a sea of ephereal bodies came out through the wall at an angle, senseless, emotionless, and silent. It was like a ghost camera had been planted on an urban sidewalk and projected like a hologram in the air on dusty blues and greens. As quickly as the entered through the hallway wall, they passed through the other. It was not good news; the divide between our worlds was fading. At some point I passed by a room of people sitting on the floor in a circle; I knew they looked at me in judgement because of my skill / quality of being a truth spinner.