I describe of this dream being of where, within the vast desert of a tundra-like climate. In the sense of the description as of the desert, one sees something similar to the Titanic rudder up in the sand. As what appears to be the doomed ship, one sees a woman in a life boat looking for her child within the desert. It seemed of the details appear vague but it is there in the thought and the dream as they are written out. The coherent aspects of this was still among the vague. Being that she was calling out to child but her voice was drowned out by the deafening silence. From the pages as one sees them as the dream reveals anything as in the shadow of nowhere, as from where they see the rudder of the Titanic sticking up from out of the sands. Where the sense of everything is nothing, within the vast landscapes of the dream as they were the tundra wasteland. The thought of the baffling was how the ship as the Titanic sleeping beneath the waters years appeared within a desert tundra, inside the wasteland of tundra sands. Where she was advancing the boat along with a pair of oars, but the distance was going was as that of a snail. As she would advance it would be among the eclipsing sky, becoming among the night comes along the shadows of a wasteland. As from the thought being from the dreams that follow from the sleep; in the thought as one sees her advancing across the tundra sands. It would become from the dream as it would be drawn across the tundra sands, as seeing the woman who was dressed from a time that was long gone -- the time when the Titanic had been swallowed up by the Atlantic but in the dream it was sticking out of the sands with the smoke stacks facing to the north. As it would stand in the dreams as they fade, from times as come — the clocks of eternity tick away. Where one would see the introspective walking the tundra stands as I watch from the stairway to darkness. Becoming from the years that had passed into the vast emptiness of the years end. Among the dreams falling from the depth of the thundering skies being as it would be among the dreams that follow from them in the tundra sands. That falls from them in the eyes among the shadows within the sands swallowing the Titanic standing rudder up in the sands as the different halves are seen from a vast distance. The direction where the woman was travelling was where the stacks of the ship faced. From the silence that draws from the darkness across the baron skies; that where it is from the description of it becoming of the bizarre in the surfacing thoughts as the dreams become from the evident of the woman from the 1910 decade searching for a child that was not seen. I was looking from the varied distances and perspectives of an observer in the sense. Among the patterns which follow of the mind as dreams loom into the vast shadow of what remains in the wastelands. While I was watching -- the clouds in the sky were growing into a pale shade of black. As it would become from the dreams overshadowing from the delicate sounds of thunder, being as it is from the sleep that follows into the dreams. That become from the being of the woman who rows across the sands. While she proceeds across the desert tundra. Becoming from the sense of the surreal details as vague as they would appear, the thoughts as they become knowing that one tries to embrace the details of denial. As one sees her moving across the northern sands, the man who watches and proceeds to walk without direction. He appears from another era gone, the era was from the Great Depression but where he was walking appeared to be heading into the northwest. He appeared young -- about a young 24 year old, with an introspective look to the pair of eyes looking at the Titanic as it sticks up from the sand. As he wanders the sands, one sees the skies beginning to blacken. The thoughts as they were from the sleep inside the dreams that follow, describing the landscape as one sees them inside the cycle of dreams. From inside the cycle of dreams it is within the darkness as it looms within the tundra sands; that it is in the mind — the dwindling reminders of all that was there within the cold desert. That where one echoes their voice within the wastelands. From the dream as one writes -- in the silence of the thunder as it would be the only thing heard for kilometers. It is from the sky eclipsing from where the place one sees from their sleep which follows into the dream. The details that they are described, being it is in the tuna-like desert of the cold being from the winds hitting on the boat which the woman slowly advances. Of where it is seen from the observations of myself, that her voice echoing the name of her child. Which it would be where the child would not be able to tell where they were, as the smoke stacks face to the north as the sands shallow the ship within the hours. As from where she travels across the sea of sand, propelling herself with the oars rowing across the sands. As it is seen from this being in the sense that knowing in the dark as one sees this they cannot describe it — as the thought of seeing something like a doomed sea cruiser sticking rudder up in a tundra sands, from the sense of the rational it does not seem to add up. Inside the sleep as the eyes are what bare the thought, and the witness of all that is gathered before them. In the dreams become inside the silence as night wanes into the daylight. Where it brings about from the daylight invoked the desolated dreams, as one sees the patterns within the tundra-like wasteland. Being as it would become of them, from the dream as one describes this -- being it would be among black skies which lead the delicate sound of thunder. In the sounds of the thundering silence it would become from the dreams as one sees the woman advancing in her lifeboat across the sands. She was still calling the name of her child while yet there was no response. As from the echoes drown out her voice, as it was straining -- the echoes from the thunder within the skies. From the direction of where the Titanic is rudder up in the tundra sands, that it is from the thought that I describe from the dreams as they are there. Of the thoughts and the weary eyes as one makes from the recollection from the dream as it was in the mind, leading from the drifting hours of where the sleep ticks. Drifting into the hours when the sleep becomes the evident as the darkness follows -- one in the dream sees the depression era twentysomething staring at the Titanic with a haunting introspect. As it would remain there, how the Titanic remains rudder up in the desert, it is the riddle inside the dream.. Drawing from the thoughts that I don’t know — it becomes the most evident thing in the dream that this would be the shadow of the unknown. Becoming from the details it would stand among them in the vague thoughts, yet they would become from the dream as they remain in the tundra sands. Of where sees the smokestacks of the doomed sealiner -- the screams of the panicked woman are heard within the distance, as it would be among the vast sands and skies in limitless darkness. In the thoughts as I would put to the record of what becomes the strongest thing within the tundra sands had to be the Titanic rudder up in the sand, sinking into the dunes. As drawn from the introspective sleep as one hears the deafening silence of the distant thunders, being it was travelling along with the woman who advances within the small lifeboat. One as the thoughts are being written among the narrated dreams are what become almost too bizarre for words. Where the thoughts draw from the detail as the dreams try to become the narrated on their own. As it ticks down from the sleep drawn from the dreams, one as myself makes the effort to record them as the memory of them are the vague as the vastness of the tundra sands. From which it is in the eyes of the one being the point of view of the underground man, where the dreams among the vague become the tormenting thoughts. Seeing from the eyes of the twentysomething looking on at the Titanic in the drifting seas of sand. Where I am writing this of the time as this present hours as I would settle to go back to sleep; though the thoughts of the dream would be the thing that remains, as nothing is what shall stay the same. In the sense of the mind where one is walking among the wastelands — the cold was the thing that was the strongest detail in the dream. In the words that one would describe the details of the dream would have to be utterly weird, in the sense where the woman advances with her lifeboat and the 24 year old great depression introspective. That comes in the sense that as I would find myself walking around within the wastelands of the tundra, as it was cold but it had no snow on the ground. The desert in the dream was like one similar to the Middle East climate, but without the heat. That it becomes from the shadow of nightfall are the dreams which follow from the desert tundra, that it is in the eyes where it grows from the weird — that becomes the dwelling of the place where the woman advances in the small lifeboat looking for her child but not able to find where they are. Where it would become from the sands that were blowing from the south, as it would appear among a surreal dreamscape. Of all that would draw from the dream cycle, one would see the sleep which stirs from the dream — the patterns which would lead to where one would hear the woman calling to her child in a stir of echoes. As from the clocks of eternity — which is the thing that ticks within the tundra sands as the dream becomes at the most vague, yet in the vast landscapes of the dream as one makes the recollection of the details. It is in the sense of the unnerved thoughts being from the dreams as they wind from one end of the psyche to the other. Where one finds themselves in the point of dreaming as they see the tundra sands blow across the rudder up Titanic.
Great read! A story any dreamer can relate to, so very real in mind yet foggy. I especially like the Tundra Sand. For me sand symbolizes time--and in dream time has come to a hault and a happening occurs over and over again. Nice prose as well. Very smooth.
Just as life during the pandemic was color-coded with different hues representing different levels of danger, life in its aftermath has become shaded in similar ways. As a self-styled “Seeker of Beauty with Beauty,” (borrowing from a quote by W.E.B.
'Better Without You'is a compelling narrative that explores the complexities of an affair, hidden secrets, and abuse. It also highlights a daughter's heartfelt journey as she cares for her mother who is battling dementia.