The Dream Escalators

Ascents and Descents of Different Characters Acting as Narrators

This floor is like a backdoor to a parallel mode of celestial transportation that the Dream Elevator attaches and opens up to in tandem. Everywhere there’s shiny Dream Escalators ascending and descending to different echelons of clouds and coordinate points in the sky. Once you step onto one, you can’t go backwards, but there’s plenty of time while you’re riding up or down to ask why.

While you stand by, notice the different characters riding a couple steps ahead of you, or perhaps passing by the opposite direction; don’t be shy. Listen to what they have to say, and decide if they’re a reliable narrator today. They’re figures of free thought forms just talking to themselves anyways :)

The wind tickles your vision, whizzing by your eyelashes and sweeping off your cheeks. The light pouring down different trajectories of escalators has a liquid shimmer to it, and you blink.

“I want to be safe enough for someone to tell me what they’re really thinking; not just what they think is the right thing to say at the time, or what I might want to hear, but what’s really going on with their state of being and their feelings,” a figure just a few steps ahead of you narrates.

“We’re all just lovers and storytellers, really,” another seems to gesture as though it relates.

The escalator you’re on rises up to a spectacular view, highlighting hundreds, maybe even thousands of escalators traversing the clouds, carrying figures of thought, ascending and descending around. The light sparkles across the horizon like it’s personally giggling in the background.

A form of thought passing by on another escalator narrates, “There’s a very serious concierge around here, a Cirrus Concierge, I just know it, but where. One of these escalators should take me there… If I could just find a sign or something… They’ve got maps with directions and maybe I could even buy tickets to that opera where the birds sing. The Cumulus Opera, yes, that one, with the awareness accordion.”

You consider your own thoughts, the internal monologues that get louder or quieter depending on your attention to them~ that tuning in or out. How is it that you’re not the thoughts and monologues of contemplation but the observer listening that can even cast doubt?

“My life is over… that’s the story. That thing that happened… Now it just repeats in my head on a loop, and I’m stuck inside the circumstances my thoughts produce… It’s like this, I think the same things over and over. I find a solution to a problem that no longer matters, and I am back at the beginning of the monologue again, my mind scatters,” a figure rambles, folding over the side of a descending escalator dramatically, “My life is over… that’s the story.”

You eye that thought formed figure as it passes by, but it doesn’t notice you, just loudly sighs. Some characters of thought forms benefit greatly from being interrupted, but many don’t handle being told what to do well, or instructed.

Lightning flashes below and a whack of thunder reverberates through the cloud you’re rising up to. As you glide off that escalator, you’re presented with several more Dream Escalators to choose. You pick the one that looks like it’s angled toward another incredible view.

An especially glowing character of thought races up behind you, “Excuse me, pardon me, coming through,” it exudes, “I know exactly where I need to be and what I need to do! Yahoo! Thank you, thank you.”

“It’s not actually for anybody else~ your sense of gratitude… You’re the one that really benefits from that heightened altitude~ like the appreciation you can generate for any experience…,” a character a few steps ahead of you concludes, “it’s all to your benefit, my dude!”

Wind blows, then a beam of light flickers through the clouds as if shifting the mood.

A character moans on the descending escalator across from you, “But why am I in charge of my attitude?!”

“I am… certain that I can handle never ending uncertainty… it’s been challenging, but I am certain of that,” a figure riding a few steps below you states like matter of fact.

Gazing across the sky, even the echelons of clouds themselves seem to take shape and form. Though still, your interpretation of them is entirely your own.
Perhaps, one seems to look like an airport and a paper airplane thrown.
Another looking like a formation of an artifact, like the rosetta stone,
with the way the light behind it glows…

You get distracted by another character leaning over the escalator above you, “I love you! That’s what I’ll say. That should communicate what I mean. Nothing else quite means the same thing… despite how… many interpretations and translations it can bring.”

The air is light in your chest as you notice yourself breathing… You consider whether the clouds themselves end up in your lungs as they are regularly wisping away into the air~ dissipating.

The thought forms riding up and down, continue gesturing to the sky, even when you’re not noticing them and instead listening to the wind… They’re never even talking to you, but some narrations have a way of getting under anybody’s skin.

“Plenty characters of thought are not worth the weather they bring, and you have no obligation to pay attention or provide them an ear for listening,” a figure seems to say directly at you before just walking right through you and onto another escalator that’s glistening.

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