My dreamworld is a place where I can get to anywhere I’d like to be at a time when I can’t. It is called the Foyer. This is the entryway to all dreams; a place where they all entwine together by their loose ends. There are paths, stairways and corridors that climb, weave and fall to countless destinations. It is made of platforms, verandas, gardens and alcoves interconnected, joining at realistic and impossible angles, and sometimes free floating in the open space between. There are plenty of archways, and portals in the Foyer, but no doors; no obstructions of any kind.
All manner of dreamers pass through here on their way to their own dreams. Some hurry up and down the gilt stairways like underclassmen who are late for a lecture. Others shuffle steadily together like a sleepwalking army, while still more might travel by kyak on meandering waterways, and off the edge of falls that come out on the other side of another part as a bursting fountain. Some of the more lucid and powerful dreamers ignore the conventions of paths and stairs by flying or swimming through the great open spaces. Or perhaps they just lazily drift along as an otter on the bay. Then of course there are those who are not going anywhere and just stay in the Foyer to enjoy its many delights. Although this is a busy place, one can always find just the perfect spot for some alone time.
Entering dreams through the Foyer is done in every way imaginable. One may by stepping through a portal, diving off a platform into a pool, picking a dream from a tree, catching it like a carousel ring as you slide by on a banister, or by reading a book that another dreamer left behind on a bench for you.
For me the places I go to often from here include the following, mostly real world places.
Rice Lake, Eagle River WI, my childhood summer home and still is.
Mt. Ngauruhoe, New Zealand, very handy when you need to properly dispose of a dangerous, evil, magic artifact.
Asilomar, CA, okay, so I live right up the street from it but a shortcut is always nice.
