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A COLD TRIP ACROSS THE NEW WELSH ISLES OR NEW WALES: A DREAM RECORD BY VIBE_SYSTM The 12th of August 2023 / 12/08/2023

WHERE THIS DREAM STARTED

In the year 2018, I had a dream that I swear I could physically feel.

This dream had me believing I was there. I have long forgotten which month I experienced it however.

A dream of a journey made across a narrow frozen green shoreline.

To my left was an expanse of grass that grew to at least roughly half my height during a cold and windy autumn morning with overcast skies.

It felt physically great, really great even. Emotionally not so much.

There was a sad, bittersweet and surreal vibe, an air surrounding and haunting us, throughout this foresty biome I called 'New Wales'.

'New' because ten years prior, the world I used to know took a bath without somebody letting the water out, then decided to mould the land like Play-Doh.

It was not the Wales it used to be anymore. The United Kingdom became a thing of the past.

Maybe it was a Tsunami or a few, but that was either forgotten or a mystery.

Those in the right place at the right time were safe from that deadly downpour or fatal flood.

Close enough to mountainous regions, inside submersible vehicles, tall platforms or on some surface vessels.

VAGUELY IDENTIFIABLE PEOPLE

I wasn't sure if this was a leisurely journey or if we had a destination.

If it was a pilgrimage or if it was for dear life.

If it was a mission or a quest, a hunting and gathering job.

Whatever it may have been was a mystery to me.

There were five of us in our mid-40s, wearing jumpsuits with many extra pockets and geared up with various tools, rifles and climbing ropes.

One was an old friend, someone I met through the internet and in person 20 years ago when accessing the internet was far more common and accessible.

This old friend of mine was wearing a Brown jumpsuit and Khaki hiking boots.

The other three I met a decade ago, the same year, during the first month that catastrophic event came into our lives and washed the old world away.

Blue, White and Green were the colours of the other three jumpsuits.

Blue used firefighter wellingtons and an olive green fisherman's beanie fit for lengthy travels on an Icebreaker through Antarctica during snow and blizzards.

Green had a hood up and got by with jury-rigged and weathered yellow high-top sneaks.

White had the most stab and crush-resistant feet with black steel toe combats and head exposed.

My jumpsuit was Yale Blue. I rocked a pair of filthy white 'superstars', with lifetimes of patch jobs with the scars to show.

Each side sported a logo with three parallel lines just visible enough. I left my head exposed to the elements.

I was at the back of the group. I felt like a ghost. Sometimes it felt like the others would forget I was there. Brown was behind Blue, and White followed Green.

I looked down at my retro wristwatch, reminiscent of those created 67 yesterdays ago in the 1970s.

11:35AM | WEDNESDAY | SEPTEMBER 21ST | 2037

LONELY SHACK BEFORE THE PACK

Eventually, during this journey, we discovered an old soggy rusty small metal shack in advanced dilapidation.

It was unknown if this was a relic from the world before or perhaps a few years old and urgently constructed out of desperation for shelter.

The floorboards had deteriorated to where you could see mud and grass. The door was absent. We were able to see our breath because it was just that cold.

Not long after the old shack, we all stopped in our tracks, paused, all in our imaginary worlds for a moment. Nobody uttered a word, just drew breath and exhaled calmly.

The only thing audible was breathing, wind, and the rustling of the vegetation beneath our feet.

Everything felt calm, relaxed even, but at the same time ominous.

A lone Deer galloped past us from the left side, heading back in the direction we came from.

A mere two minutes after, a Timber Wolf pack in pursuit of their potential meal followed in the Deer's tracks.

They must have migrated to New Wales years ago.

I think the wolf pack knew we were there, but they ignored us entirely in favour of their potential quarry.

Maybe they had no interest in us.

Maybe somehow, we were invisible to these ever-aware apex predators. We had no intention of interfering.

At that encounter, we avoided trouble and preferred to keep it that way.

POSSIBLE PARANORMAL PHENOMENON

Five minutes went by after their passing before we once again began making our way towards who knows what or who knows where.

What must have been around half an hour or so, we once again halted in silence. The reason was a mystery to me at first.

This time we all looked in a pinpoint direction ahead. Loss, sadness and surreality set in.

Ahead of us were moss-covered concrete metallic corpses peeking above the frigid water, the remains of various aged buildings and vehicles put through further decay by the elements.

I had a gut feeling that the water-logged remains of those who did not make it out of 2027 were still somewhere within.

Despite what remained of the buildings in front of us having no relation, I went down memory lane thinking about the houses where my parents and grandparents once lived.

The same ones I grew up in, picturing them as now submerged reefs of lost memories, far too deep and out of reach, miles upon miles away.

I lived in England before ‘The Big Drench’, in case you’re wondering how I, or any of us got to the New Welsh Isles, it was likely by boat from the Post England Mountains, that is but speculation on my part.

Above those ruins were the visible ghosts of buildings and people.

Were they seeing what I was seeing? Was I the only one seeing this? A mysterious hallucination?

I did not have answers to those questions. We stood there, none of us said anything, and then the wind picked up slightly and dropped in speed.

Everything was silent again. [IF YOU LISTEN TO 'HARD WORK IS A DISTANT MEMORY' BY 'MASTER OF THE SUBWAY NINJAS' YOU WILL HEAR WHAT MUSIC OR AMBIENCE I WAS IMAGINING DURING MY REMINISCENCE OF THIS DREAM AND THE RECORDING OF IT] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4hzMgGVxeXg

#creative writing #dream #dream journal #VIBE_SYSTM #post apocalyptic #flooding

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