I am in a city of sorts, surrounded by gargantuan mountain peaks. There is a building hewn of sparkling white stone rising skyward, and a rushing river rushing from the base of the building toward a waterfall. This is surrounded by many trees and a park-like area. I’m in a boat with a woman whom I know well in the dream, but who I don’t know in waking life and we’re talking, marveling at the beauty of the surroundings. The scene is stunning. We watch the sun set behind the mountain peaks. Everything in this place shines with some kind of internal light. Not like things glow, exactly, just that they are so vividly alive that one can see and feel it intensely. The boat, it seems, should be pulled by the current toward the waterfall, as it seems there is no means of propulsion, yet it doesn’t react to the current. It goes where we wish for it to without any external effort. I ask how this is possible and my companion says she doesn’t know and that it is rather fantastic. Later, on the shore I’m walking and talking with a man who is my father. Not in this life, but in the dream that’s just who he is and we’re in that park-like area by the river. Through the trees one can catch glimpses of other structures, but where we are it’s trees and grass and really lovely gardens filled with all kinds of blooming things.
This is a type of dream that is lately common. I am in places I don’t recognize speaking with people whom I don’t know from waking life, but who I am quite familiar with in the context of the dream. What is discussed I can never really remember upon awakening, and yet I know that they were giving me information about things deemed important by all involved, including myself. But when I wake up I am left only with the memory that I was told important things. I have a sense that remembering these things is something that will be a process and that I’m not supposed to fret about it particularly.
