I love weird dreams.
The area of the world ‘we’ lived in was no longer going to be habitable. We had to leave. It wasn’t quite that easy though. We packed everyone in a few impossibly big containers as if they were cold unconscious objects. One person had to be the one to stay conscious and ‘deal with’… stuff. A bizarre job I can’t describe but which required some drugs to allow every-moment awareness and being sort of ‘plugged in’ to everything around in some odd way.
We were mostly set and the first transport went on ahead of us by about a month or two. We followed, and I was just one of the crowd. Eventually we all woke up and piled out. We took some kind of medicine then, which was also given to the ‘driver’ guys of each thing, to make sure this new place did not have microbes that would destroy us.
A little while later, the man who’d been awake for the first crew, killed himself. I was part of a small team investigating why. This was truly unusual for any of my people to do and beyond our comprehension.
I was confused, shocked, then disturbed to come to the understanding of what had gone on with him while he waited for us. His… carrier had been in the ground, see. Almost entirely under it, only a tiny part up top slightly above the soil with air on it, while he waited. His role had forced him to sort of plug into all the things in the ground, awareness-wise. Nobody had ever considered such a thing. Normally our containers were in the sky. Normally where we ‘lived’ even on the ground was… well it wasn’t at all like this new place, with seemingly millions of life forms of every shape, size and description.
And as a side-effect of his role, he had encountered the consciousness of… of worms. And bugs. And plants. And animals. And… and too many things to count. Things I considered kind of gross. Things in multitude, in legion, things ‘smaller’ than us but still ‘hear-able’. I kept having this bad dream, caused by my investigation process, that I was with him and he was alive, and he reached his hand down into the actual soil and and ‘partly grew into’ worms and bugs and creatures and more. I would wake up shaking from the sheer gross-out horror of it.
And eventually, don’t remember how, I came to understand that he had not killed himself because of the horror of that experience, as understandable as that might have been. But because the medicine he’d been given when still in his pod-thing at the top of the… container, before he could talk yet and say something, had completely cut him off from that contact. And apparently he had adapted to it and grown to like it and then to need it at some core level, and had tried to get it back… finally concluding that it was impossible and he could never have that connected awareness again. He felt so much ‘less alive’ and ‘less aware’, so devastated, that he decided he couldn’t live like that anymore.
This was a bit linear and rather odd (all dreams are odd). But since it was about awareness I had to wonder how much of it was sparked by my current focus.