Blind Staircase

Some people dream in monochrome,
some people dream in numbers or words,
some people dream in sounds.

My dreams are almost always hyperchromatic visions of deep colours, fringed with colours that serve to densify the bold colours. Even the sky seems a saturated liquid that flows endlessly through space.

I dream of places. Places I've been before, but twisted as if seen through a glass bubble. Curtains flap soundlessly in the invisible wind. Things that should be there are ripped from the world, leaving a silent void that maintains its boundary with the rest of the polychromatic world.

I dream of trains. Of parks. Of houses that I've stepped into before, but now as a helpless intruder.

I dream of people. The soft warm faces that I know and love, the transparent ghosts that shuffle through the maze of my life, the glowing seeds that are people who are yet to be.

I dream of a blind staircase, leading to a blind door.