I dreamt last night, for the first time in a while. And I'm writing it here, lest I forget.
My dreams tend to be... wordy. Words circles themselves, biting and tearing; they run into one another, forming new words, thoughts and concepts. Rarely are they in a format that is legible; when I think back on them from now, though, and they seem so... cinematic. I do admit to some minor embellishing here-and-there, but I believe I have the gist of things down. Let me go on.
I dreamt that I stood in a featureless void; only the fact that I was standing told me that there was any floor at all. White surrounded me in all directions; it intruded upon my mind, and made me wonder if this was what blindness felt like. Nothing to see; perfect light, untarnished. I could look down and see my hand - and yes, it was my hand. On the back of it, four symbols were written into it. Faded, but there: "H:DW". I have no clue as to what that could mean.
Regardless, I looked around; I felt that I had freedom of movement in this space. I looked around, seeking some feature in this eternal and endless void. Something there, not the lack of things that covered the three-hundred-and-sixty degrees that surrounded me. And then I stopped, and turned my head around; it would be painful to do in "real life", but I did it in the dream as if it were nothing. There was someone standing there.
Someone, the same height as me, dressed in black; black hair, on top of that. A hood drawn over her face, with that black hair spilling out; her being surrounded in shadows, and a perfect contrast to the nothingness around her.
"... and you are?"
That was me; it is curious to think of my dreams in a way of speaking, but it makes sense from the point of view in relaying my story, I think. However, I should stress that I know my mind didn't work quite like that when I was dreaming... or perhaps it did. All the same. For the sake of convenience, I will put the other-being's words in a slightly different colour, for ease of reading. Forgive me for the lack of qualifiers and so on, but as I said earlier: I do not think of this as a film in my dreams. Merely words.
"I am an alternate sequence of actions; the differing of the choices; the ways that were parted. Another morality, if you will."
"Nonsense. I am you, if you were not you."
"Perhaps I should have held that last comment back, t'would be far more apt now."
"The lowest form of wit, indeed. You, yourself, have previously speculated that the only thing that defines are a being are it's memories, correct?"
"But that is nonsense, in itself; we forget naturally."
"Therefore, our beings are entirely malleable. There is no fundamental you about you. There is only the you as you perceive yourself. Is that not so?"
"Even so, there must be a difference between one being and another, must there not?"
The figure laughed. "Of course. The physical differences."
"But physicality, too, changes."
"Precisely. Ergo, all being is malleable." Smug, condensing tone.
"But that cannot be true. There are differences between all beings; no two are the same. Were we all the same, our beings would be no different from drops in the river."
"That is a metaphor that is all too fitting. We are droplets in the flood; alone, we are as nothing. Together, we are the mightiest of all forces. And, as droplets in the water, we flow over one another, ever mixing, ever changing."
"It's pure common sense that it is not so! That is not the way of the world!"
"The world's way? Let us return to the metaphor of the river; this time, we are not droplets, we are the fish that swum through it. You are arguing that all fish should hurry down the river, regardless of where it may go; should it lead us to our demise, you would say that it is the world's way and call it a day."
"And what would you argue, hm?"
"I, my friend? The river and it's waters are fate, are they not? In that case, I would simply swim against it."
"Tsk, fate. What a simple way to dodge consequences. Fate is not absolute and dogmatic; if fate is what those who advocate it claim it is, then in defying fate, for what good such a meaningless term is, is merely playing into fate's hand all the same. You cannot defy fate, for attempting to defy fate would be in your fate."
"You appear to have latched onto the word-choice rather then the thrust of my statement."
"Does it matter?"
Once again, a laugh. "Perhaps not. But are you familiar with the tale of the fish who claimed a waterfall?"
"No, and such a thing is impossible."
"It is said that such a fish would shift, and become a dragon."
I felt my dream-self blinking; and the other person was gone, and I was alone in the void once more. And then I awoke.
... I wonder when Vanitas will be back? She'll know what to do about my oddly clarity-filled dreams.