Contemplative Inquiry

In the last segment of a complex dream, I am somehow bonded with a young woman. We are both at the end of our teens. We are not related and there’s no erotic buzz, or, if so, only a faint one. We are joined, rather, in a quest to visit the surface of the earth. No-one we know or know of has ever been there, but there are stories of such journeys in the past.

Our quest has been widely talked about in the busy, crowded underground community of which we are part. Opinions about its wisdom vary. There are longstanding fears of the uncanny Uplands. But this journey to the surface, and to a specific building traditionally understood to be or have been there, matters to many people. For us and our supporters, there’s a sense of pilgrimage about this enterprise. We understand it as a sacred mission. It might lead to consequential encounters – new and healing connections – contradicting our ingrained aversion to the open surface world. Or of course, in a variety of ways, it might not.

Our ascent will be either in an remarkably plush-looking lift or by climbing a long spiral staircase that looks shabby and undermaintained. Arrived at the bottom of the lift, we hesitate. An ancient AI, presenting as a humanoid robot, manages this lift. They sing its praises but we don’t trust them. Our instincts say that the staircase is the right way to go. My companion and I both suspect that whilst lift and staircase are adjacent at their underground departure point, they may be more distant at the top. They may lead to different destinations. The choice between them matters, and intuition is our only guide.

My companion moves decisively to the bottom of the stairs and begins to run up them. I follow, also running. We continue to bound up the stairs, regardless of possible weaknesses in their structure. I experience a flash of gratitude for the renewed youth that allows me to do this. Then I wake up.