I drempt of darkness filled with wisps of fog the colour of clotted blood. Stars floated there amid the darkness with unnatural hue, some green like the light of the neon lamp, some stained the shade of urine and others left bereft of colour by a dreaming mind that overlooked them. Therein I saw meaningless words bent in curves and spirtals, lists of names in a serif font, familiar yet indistinct. A few still come to mind, Zon, Eliyna, Liyrtha, and Roark, but the rest have faded with my waking. The words described, with imperfect detail that was overlooked in a false conviction that I had already read the words many times over, the methods by which a fictional cabal of sorcerers and secret magicians might be constructed in my image, and listing those names which had gone done so as well. I inquired after the name of Zon, expecting to read further about his exploits, but all that was there was an single staring eye, bloodstained and with an iris of fire that looked akin to a burning galaxy. I look at the name of Roark, and saw the other member of the pair, an eye without either iris or pupil, but instead a hole staring out into the depths of an empty, lightless space between the stars, outside the light cone of the heavens. Something with tentacles crawled amid the cloud, green and vast, sliding along a flat plane of aether that did not exist to me, and then I awoke to find that it was all a dream.
I drempt of a man shaped thing that was made of static and wearing a formal suit of black velvet without a stain. He had ears, but no eyes and no face. He hung upside down before me as I slept upon the couch in the living room, with neither feet not legs, but rather a torso that faded into the shadows and denied that it was anything but a shadow itself. The hands were ungloved, dangling downwards casually as if they were attached upside-down, and the tie was wrong in a way I couldn't quite understand before the figment vanished from my mind and I awoke.
I drempt of a frog without toes the colour of a hairless dog. Where the legs ended, three smaller legs began forming a disgusting wrist with bulbous joints and silently grinding bones. The little legs had smaller legs still, and so it continued down into an infinity of cantor-toes. It had no eyes, no ears, only a mouth that was covered in skin, pointed directly at me and breathing slowly in and out. It was gone when I looked away, and the street it inhabited was empty for the rest of the night.
I drempt of wanderings between smooth membranes like oil-sheen curves, bending my thoughts along strange swooping paths as I followed the way before me, in five, or perhaps only four dimensions. My mind churned and boiled with strange truths, and yet I felt at peace amid the flux of geometry. The world wobbled and I wobbled with it, restfully, until I fell asleep within the dream itself, and drempt no more.