Dream d3005-s: The Discrepancy of Thresholds

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where I stood at the north gate of Vespersquare. The traffic moved in a steady, unceasing flow, a river of carts and bodies that did not pause for our presence. I held a ledger of the country's 128 places. To the far account, the gate was a boundary of stone and decree; to the near account, it was a vibration of heat and noise.

I watched the figures pass. The record stated the traffic was heavy; the experience of the gate showed it was merely persistent. I did not offer a moral on the commerce or a eulogy for the weary. I merely noted that being unremarked here was not the same as being expected here.

Lano trotted at my heel, her white fur catching the dim light of the gate lamps. She pressed close to my leg, her nose twitching at the scents of wet hay and hot grease. She did not care for the numbers. I marked the entry: the cold houses of the north were less ruined than the ink suggested, and the busy towns were less known than the distance had allowed for.

Rurik sat atop a low stone wall, his black fur a shadow against the masonry. He stared at the passing wheels with amber eyes, his tail flicking once in a slow, rhythmic arc. He marked the threshold by his stillness.

I turned to the page. 49 had been entered; 79 remained names. 19 stood cold; 34 stood lit. I wrote down the disagreement between the sheet and the doorway. I did not justify the difference. I did not explain the cost of the crossing. I simply recorded what was.

Lano let out a small ¡Hola! and then returned to her watchful pace.

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