I guess I was successful enough in strumming the epic undertones of this dream. You have asked for more.

A confession: I deceived you. But to be fair, the epic is in the comedy.

I do not know much about dreams; but my dreams, many of them, are recalcitrant to logic. The subconscious mind is a wonder of many universes. And mine, in particular, infringed copyright from Tolkien, and trespassed the mountains of Nepal.

It was a short dream.

The dream started with me marvelling at the mountainous brethren. The sun was trying to wade through the crowd of clouds. And while white was this dream’s hero fabric, the texture of rocks and boulders made themselves stand out without much effort.

The guide, a dwarf, told me about two passages: one takes you through the higher regions of the mountains, the other one was only for those who have insurance. My dreaming self chose the second path. And so we descended into the throat of the mountain.

The boulders were mossy and rough. My slumbering hand suddenly was confused if this world was true or not. The steps were steep. The floor was slippery. Light receded as though it knew of the selfishness of darkness. My companions, eight of them, went ahead certain of their steps. And I, being afraid of the dark and the unseen, revered each step as if it were my last.

Upon the lower landing (perhaps, the cave’s tongue), I watched my companions jump on one monolith after the other. They made their way to the unknowns of the cave. And I was left petrified. I saw the still visible floor where the monoliths stood. It looked like a swamp or quagmire where wrong footing do not go unpunished.

I thought to myself, I do not have courageous legs that can propel me to jump onto those pillars. And I don’t have the courageous lungs that can resuscitate me if I choose the bog.

And as I contended with intrepidness in a game of tug-o-war, goblins, friendly ones, invited me to the bog. They showed me that its mossy mask was hard enough to support me. (Again, logic did not win this.)

And that is when I woke up forcing my way out of the cave, out of the dream. It was terrifying, and laughable at the same time. Although I wonder where I got all those thoughts. Whoever invented dreams must have had a twisted sense of humour.