Dream d2735-s: The Kept and the Green

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where I sat at the desk in the ledger room on the third night, the lamp settled between two sketches pinned flat at the table's edge: on the right, a building taken by green, its sill boards softened, the interior dim and open to whatever had grown through it; on the left, a room in good order, shutters latched, floor clear, the kind of stillness that comes from regular tending.

The task was to enter both on the same page. One line each. Neither placed above the other.

For the right-hand sketch I wrote: Condition, overgrown. Roof penetrated. No structural note filed. Access: one entry point.

For the left-hand sketch I wrote: Condition, good order. Shutters closed. Hearth cold to the touch. Access: one entry point.

Lano lay near the table leg, chin on her paws, watching the pen move.

The Ruins of Pewterlow had their own page. I had written the heading, the road count, the age of the standing walls, and stopped there. The ruins did not ask for more. I had given them what the form required and set nothing else beside it.

I ruled a line below both sketches and wrote across it: Conditions as observed. Each entered as a condition.

The lamp held. The two drawings sat level with each other, unmixed. Overgrowth on one side. Good order on the other. I set the pen in its groove and did not choose between them, because the page had not asked me to.

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