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neptunianoneironaut
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almost 12 years ago
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The Path to the Secret Entrance

Having grown up near a beautifull section of the Rocky Mountains in Wyoming, aspects of the wilderness have been integrated into my dream spaces. For a few nights sleep, the nearly same scene has provided great pleasure and pain. After countless switchbacks, the highway ascending the Big Horn Mountains finally turns into a canyon. One side of the carving road rises higher to a mammoth formation called Steamboat Rock, and the other side a steep drop where if you look down, the perspective of the true depth is lost. It was known to me that the impossible hike down and then to climb up its opposite side might reward you, in the wet season, with wild hallucinagenic mushrooms. In search of a clearing after crowded bushes and tall ponderosa pines, I realize I am joined by a large group of friends. The thick set of wilderness has opened to the beach of a lake walled in by the deep canyon. Without hesitation I lead the group across the middle of the lake where a landbridge just under an inch of clear water allows us to appear to be walking on top of the water. The view from the middle of the lake reveals a mountain size pile of boulders. Excited to climb and jump on the rock playground, each person starts toward the top, taking their own route. Once there, someone in the group notices an oversided dead tree laying flat on its side. The dead and fallen tree is hollow and we all go inside. Theres a hole in the floor of the inside of the tree. After much inspection of where the hole might go, we drop through it to discover we have entered the Tongue River Cave by means of a new, secret entrance. The time with my friends in the cave is spent like kids in a laser tag arena, and after what seems like a long while we exit the cave back the way we came. Everyone starts heading down the boulders to the lake, but I take a different route. A tree line of forest bordering one side of the boulders seems like a nice way to go this time. Something starts to feel wrong near the trees being alone, however. I look some distance into the trees and spot a black bear and its running towards me. I make way for the boulders and my friends. A life-long free-climber, I attempt to get myself on the steep cliff where the bear cannot get to. As a reoccuring dream, there are slight differences in how it has all gone down. The first time I remember this dream, the bear catches me and I wake up immedietely. A couple times since, however, its my friends that want to take the route where I know the bear is waiting. I convince everyone to stay together and we all walk the lake in safety. Despite the bear ruining a perfect dream, one of the reoccuring times, I love this dream space I seem to keep going back to.

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