Albeit rarely, I have such vivid dreams that play out in an almost cinematic form. They affect an emotional response and stay alive in my memory for hours after waking from them. I could try and decipher their meaning, but that's of less interest to me than the ideas that can spin out of them.
The absolute definition of the surrounding landscape, the sounds within it. The underlying emotions played out spinning a web which ensnared the audible narration that ran over the unfolding scene. That there was a narration at all, described from the subject's perspective in her voice, was so bizarre yet beautiful. The switching from first to third person views. Haunting and dark, a sense of helplessness followed by rescue and safety. A tempest fading to calm.
This is all of the narration I can remember. There are gaps; perhaps it was meant to be remembered like that:
It was just me and Blue. Blue was constant and consistent. I went to her when I was in need of space from the world.
Blue sang her rolling lullaby as I drifted from consciousness to the darkness. It would not be long now.
It was L who found me. He drove for four hours, scouring the coast until he spotted the car on the headland. He knew I'd gone to find Blue. He found me drenched in sweat and wrapped in self-loathing and held me and told me it would be alright. He kept me alive that dark night.