I was so asleep this morning, I forgot to mention a very vivid dream. It must have been just before I awoke this morning, and it calls to mind both a childhood dream of Bram Stoker's — of a giant marching across Ireland, casting a shadow as it came — and of Tolkien's recurring dreams of apocalyptic waves, which he gives to Faramir in The Lord of the Rings (though Eowyn has the dream is Jackson's film). I was seated or standing near a great plate-glass window, in some sort of building perched upon the rim of a deep and narrow valley. It was truly almost more of a canyon than a valley, so deep was the valley. I could see forests and farmland stretched out far below me, and then the steep cliffs on either side. And as I watched, the sun moved across the sky, throwing much of the valley's floor into shadow. But then a second shadow appeared, and whereas the shadow cast by the setting sun — a shadow that began at the western rim and stretched towards the eastern side — this new came from behind me, from the east, overlying and eclipsing the original shadow. And it was all so incredibly beautiful, but there also a terrible sense of dread that accompanied the coming of the second shadow. And really, that's all I can recall. I feel as though I might have had a dream very much like this one before, but Eowyn's lines from The Return of the King are so etched into my mind that I may only be remembering that:
I dreamed I saw a great wave climbing over green lands and above the hills. I stood upon the brink. It was utterly dark in the abyss before my feet. A light shown behind me, but I could not turn. I could only stand there...waiting.