Friday, 24 May 2013

I dreamt I was on the tundra once again, staring into the fire. I was clutching something in my hand, and I knew it was the prehistoric tool I'd found. I could hear the old woman's rhythmic breathing beside me. I turned my head and saw she was asleep. The fire crackled and danced. The old woman's breathing changed; she was awake now. I turned to her again, and she met my eyes and scowled. She spoke to me, but I didn't understand, and her scowl deepened. She held up her hand and showed me she was holding the prehistoric tool. Not my tool, but the other, the dream tool that looked as if it had been carved the day before. She looked at my hand. I held it up to her so she could see I was holding the tool. My hand was empty.

I woke. The prehistoric tool sat on my desk. It would be easy to fetch it, and clutch it as I fell back to sleep. I didn't. Instead, I got up. I've decided it's time to go and see the old station. See what it looks like now. See what's inside the room with the metal door. We'll go tomorrow.

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