That moment I knew it was a dream my courage intensified.
The rooms were separated by great glass slabs. I knew the place, but I did not know the setting and did not particularly care.
Perhaps the ground was soft, full of warm and old dust. The end of the room was not just dark, but it had a dark watery reflection etched across its wooden walls. It was a quiet scary dark place.
It was a safe and quiet scary dark place.
I couldn’t seem to plant my feet firmly on the floor as I’ve reached the end corner of the room. There was a man standing near one of the glass panels. He was wearing a heavily padded suit with a space helmet, looking out to where I know would be the view from a 11 story-floor.
Instead it was the universe as we know it. Like looking out from a space shuttle window when drifting past a nebula, nursery of galaxies. The man and the surroundings were so surreal, still I took his hand as he showed me the view outside and beckoned me to peer down. I saw orange ladders and titanium tile fitted surface that prompted me to run my bare feet upon them, allowing the cold wind (that only existed in space dreams) filled with star dust to flow through my pores, my veins and hair. For some reason I led him away from the window glass, towards the dark corner of the room I had set out to reach and promised him rapture.
I seem to have disappointed him.
Behind him starlight glittered, the nebula shifted between shades of purple and pink. And behind me the diffuse reflection of dark matter glowed silently.