Climbing above the mountaintop, untouched by humans for who knows how many years. Ruins sit timeless, undisturbed until my arrival. Beautiful white stone. Marble perhaps. Intricately carved in latticework.
But this mountain is no mere mountain. I walk through the halls, lit by a faint red flame. Yet not a flame at all. Lava beneath my feet, seen only through small windows in the floor. The light reflects off small tiles of mirror-like glass. The room sparkles and flickers, forming a warm glow throughout the chambers.
The faint sound of liquid flowing echoes through the chambers. Yet the sound I hear is not the flow of lava, but water. An entity which should not coexist, yet does so here. Both lava and water continue their journey through the halls, into and out of open rooms.
I walk on, seeing where the water leads. Finally I meet its destination. Crystal clear water pours from the side of the mountain and deep into the valley below. I sit, listening, watching…
I had a dream one day, and while I don’t usually write down what I saw in the dream, this dream had such vivid imagery that I just had to do it. I wrote down as much as I could remember. I sat on that paragraph of a summary for months. And now I’ve finally decided to turn it into something slightly more. Oh how I wish I could paint. I would love to show everyone else what I saw.