Dream d2663-s: Taller Than the Table

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where I stood in the sorting room of the Ruins of Mistthwaite on the third night of the residency, and the pile was taller than I had been told.

It reached above the table by the height of my forearm. I measured it with my forearm because that was what I had. The room smelled of old damp and the particular flatness of paper that has not moved in a long time. Lano pressed against my leg once, then moved to the corner and sat.

I had come to teach the keeping of a mark. There was no one to teach.

The pile was correspondence. I did not open any of it. I recorded: one pile, at the sorting table, Ruins of Mistthwaite, height approximately one forearm above the table surface. I recorded: no Correspondent, no Deputy Correspondent, no Assistant of Record. I wrote the date of my visit. I wrote that the room was otherwise in order - the shelves held their labels, the floor was swept, the window latched but not locked.

Rurik came through the gap under the door and took the warm spot near the wall where the pipe ran. He sat and watched the pile. He did not move toward it.

I did not know how long the pile had waited. I wrote that I did not know. I wrote: pile arrived before this visit; duration of accumulation unknown; no signature on the door's last-entry log. The last-entry log showed a date. I copied the date. I did not calculate the interval. Calculation is interpretation. I only copied what was written.

Lano's ears moved once, toward the corridor. Nothing came.

The pile was the record of a place that had kept sending after the hands that would answer stopped being there. I wrote that. I wrote it without a verdict. The pile is. The hands are not. Both entered in the same column, the same line, the same ink.

I set my lantern on the far end of the table, away from the pile, so the light fell across it without touching it. I wrote in that light for another hour. When I was done I blew the lantern and stood in the dark a moment, letting my eyes find what the room still held.

Lano came and pressed against my ankle. We went out. The door latched behind us. I did not lock it.

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