The Dreamscape

By Dan Verkys

The light did not fade all at once. It thinned gradually, like the final breath of a dying fire, until the world around him became a dim and uncertain blur. Then even that vanished, and darkness swallowed everything.

When awareness returned, he found himself standing barefoot atop a small hill surrounded by endless grasslands. There were no trees, no landmarks, no signs of life. The world stretched outward in every direction as a barren ocean of grey and black, featureless beneath a sky devoid of warmth. A dense fog clung low to the ground, drifting in slow, restless currents that moved with the breath of an intermittent wind. The mist rolled over the hills like smoke upon water, concealing and revealing the land in uneasy pulses. For several moments he did not move.

His bare feet pressed into the dark soil beneath him, and instinctively he curled his toes into it. The earth was dry and powdery, cold against his skin. It grounded him with frightening immediacy. Whatever this place was, it did not feel like a dream. It felt solid. Real. Then he noticed the vibrations.

At first, they were faint, little more than a subtle trembling beneath the surface, but they grew steadily stronger until he could feel them climbing through his feet and into his bones. Something was moving beneath the hill. He looked around again.

The summit itself was barren except for fragments of some ancient timber structure scattered among the long grass. Broken beams, rotting planks, shattered frames half-consumed by dirt and decay protruded from the fog like the wreckage of a forgotten ship. The remains appeared abandoned for decades, perhaps centuries. A sudden warm wind swept across the hilltop.

The fog tore away in swirling ribbons, carrying dead leaves and dust with it, and the ground beneath him began to rumble violently. Beneath the surface came the terrible sound of strain and resistance, the grinding of roots through stone, the crunching of earth splitting apart, the wet tearing of plant matter forcing its way upward. Then the vines emerged.

Thick thorn-covered tendrils burst through the soil in every direction. They writhed like living serpents, twisting around one another with unnatural urgency. More followed, piercing through the earth in clusters, knotting together into immense coils of black vegetation that climbed higher and higher into the air.

He stumbled backward as the vines thickened into towering columns. The ground erupted again. Something massive rose from beneath the hill. Bone. Gigantic fragments of a human skull emerged from the earth, hauled upward by the writhing vines. Thick tendrils wrapped themselves around each fragment, binding them together, dragging shattered pieces into alignment. Slowly, impossibly, the enormous skull reformed itself high above him. Empty eye sockets stared out across the fog-shrouded wasteland while the vines continued their relentless work, reconstructing what time and death had destroyed. The lower jaw was missing at first. Then the ruins around him began to move. Broken timber from the old structure slid across the ground as though pulled by invisible hands. Rotting beams and splintered planks rose into the air, joining with the vines to create a crude arch where the jaw should have been. Within moments a battered wooden door materialised at the centre of it, forming a grotesque mouth beneath the skull’s grinning face. Before he could comprehend what he was witnessing, the earth split open once more.

Two colossal human arms burst vertically from the ground on either side of the skull. Soil and stones rained down around him as the enormous hands unfurled slowly in the air. The arms leaned inward with agonising slowness before grasping the sides of the skull, their giant fingers digging deep into the bone structure as if stabilising it. Above the skull, where sections of the cranium remained incomplete, more vines and broken timber intertwined themselves into the shape of a steep pitched roof. The eye sockets were next.

Ancient wooden-framed windows rose from the wreckage scattered across the hill and floated upward into the hollow cavities. Thorny branches wrapped around them instantly, sealing them tightly into place. The entire structure groaned. Everything constricted simultaneously. The vines tightened. The timber strained. Bone cracked and settled beneath immense pressure as the grotesque construction compressed itself into solidity. Then, without warning, the outer wrists of the giant arms collapsed inward.

Two gaping holes formed there. Within seconds the cavities reshaped themselves into screaming mouths. The massive hands clamped harder against the skull as the mouths opened wide and released an inhuman howl that shook the hilltop. The sound was unbearable, a shriek of agony and protest so violent that he clapped his hands over his ears in desperation. More vines burst from the ground, wrapping tightly around the forearms as though restraining them. They pulled tighter and tighter, binding the arms in place while the screaming mouths rose into a higher, more tortured pitch.

The structure itself seemed to be screaming against its own creation. At last the cries ceased. The mouths remained open in frozen horror while silence rolled back over the hill. Then, slowly, three enormous slabs of stone rose from the earth before the skull-house. Their surfaces ground together with thunderous force as they settled into place, forming a staircase that led directly to the door set within the creature’s mouth.

The door creaked open. Warm darkness waited beyond it. Despite every instinct screaming at him to flee, he found himself stepping forward. One cautious step after another carried him toward the structure until he stood before the doorway itself. With trembling hands he pushed the battered wooden door inward and crossed the threshold. Darkness swallowed him whole.

Behind him the door slammed shut with explosive force. He spun around instinctively, but there was no escape now. Vines slithered across the doorway immediately, weaving themselves together into a thick barricade that sealed the entrance entirely. He stood motionless in absolute blackness. Above him came the creaking sound of timber shifting and vines stretching. The building was alive. He could feel it settling around him like some enormous breathing organism. Panicked, he searched through his pockets. At last his fingers brushed against a small cardboard box. Matches. Relief flooded through him. He struck one quickly. The tiny flame illuminated a small circular room resembling the hollow interior of a dead tree. Thorn-covered vines lined the walls. Branches protruded from every surface, woven tightly with dry grass and packed dirt. Leaves littered the floor.

To his left, a crude staircase spiralled upward through a hole in the ceiling. It had been constructed from branches, vines, and warped wooden planks that jutted awkwardly from the walls. The match burned down rapidly, scorching his fingers before going out. He lit another immediately. This time he snapped a branch from the wall, though it seemed to recoil from his grasp and ignited the dry leaves at its end. Stuffing it with grass, he fashioned a crude torch.

Holding the flickering flame before him, he began climbing. Every step groaned beneath his weight. The entire structure shifted constantly around him. Vines flexed beneath the walls. Timber creaked overhead. Dust drifted from unseen places above. Outside he could hear the giant hands tightening around the skull again, their immense grip causing fragments of bone to rain down through the walls. By the time he reached the second floor, his breathing had grown shallow with dread.

The upper chamber was impossibly large compared to the exterior. Fragments of the ruined structure from outside had been arranged along the walls and floor, giving the room the vague appearance of something once human and familiar. Dirty light filtered inward through the old windows set within the skull’s eye sockets. He turned suddenly at the sound of movement behind him. The staircase opening sealed shut before his eyes.

Vines twisted together. Wooden beams slid into place. Within moments the entrance had vanished entirely, leaving him trapped inside the chamber. Only the windows remained. He extinguished the torch. Approaching the glass cautiously, he noticed the vines tightening around the frames as though reacting to his presence. The old panes vibrated softly, warning him away. He stared out across the landscape.

The world beyond seemed endless and unnatural. Long dead grass moved in spiralling patterns across distant hills beneath a sky filled not with stars, but with tiny punctures of pale light, as though holes had been torn through a great dark veil. Only then did the full weight of his situation descend upon him. “What is this place?” he whispered aloud. “Why am I here?” Movement stirred behind him once more. He turned. The vines along the rear wall twisted and knotted together, rising from the floor with astonishing flexibility. Within moments they had shaped themselves into a crude throne-like chair.

An invitation. Or perhaps a prison. Slowly he sat. Time lost meaning there. He found himself thinking about his life, about old regrets, forgotten cruelties, failures, and people long gone. A terrible sadness overcame him, deeper than grief itself. It felt as though every wasted moment of his life had gathered within this room to sit beside him in silence. He no longer knew whether he was awake or asleep. Then he saw the face. At first it was merely a knot within one of the larger vines, but the longer he stared, the more distinct it became. Hollow eyes. A twisted nose. Split lips around a grotesque mouth.

The face stared back. “Where am I?” he asked quietly. “What is this place?” The mouth twitched awkwardly. Its jaw shifted side to side like brittle bones struggling against rigor mortis. Then it spoke. “Dreaming.” Its voice was little more than a harsh whisper. “What do you mean dreaming?” he demanded. “Is this a dream?” “Dreaming,” the face repeated. “We are all dreaming. You were never awake. You have always slept here in the darkness. Only now are you seeing the world for what it truly is.” Cold dread settled over him. “This place,” the face continued, “and everything within it… is constructed by your mind.”

He rose from the chair and approached the windows again. Beyond them the dead hills rolled endlessly beneath the starless sky. “How do I leave?” he asked. The face smirked faintly. “I have no answers beyond those already asked.” Anger surged through him. “There is no escape from this place,” the face hissed. “You will remain here forever.” Something inside him snapped. With a sudden roar he hurled himself elbow-first through the nearest window. Glass exploded outward. Sharp fragments tore into his bare feet as he scrambled for a large shard. Snatching one from the floor, he lunged toward the face and drove the jagged glass deep into its eye.

The scream that followed shook the entire structure. Blood poured from the wound. The walls convulsed violently. Seizing his opportunity, he sprinted toward the shattered window and leapt. For one glorious instant he thought he had escaped. Then a jagged shard caught deep in his thigh, ripping flesh apart as he fell outward into the fog. Vines caught him before he hit the ground. They erupted from the skull-house in thick coils, their thorns hooking into his flesh. The harder he struggled, the tighter they wrapped around him. One constricted around his throat. Others bound his wrists and calves. His body was pulled outward into a grotesque star shape suspended in midair.

The thorns dug deeper. Blood ran freely down his skin. Then the earth exploded open before him once more. Another gigantic hand emerged from below, its wrist-mouth howling like some demonic beast. The enormous fingers closed around his body effortlessly. Bound and helpless, he could do nothing. “Please,” he gasped. “Let me go… let me wake up…” The hand tightened. Bones snapped instantly. The vines tore free as the colossal grip crushed him with monstrous force. His ribs collapsed inward. Blood spilled from his mouth. Behind him the face within the structure screamed:

“You cannot escape your own mind. This place is your tomb.”

The pressure intensified. His body ceased resembling anything human. Blood streamed from every opening and split in his skin as the hand reduced him to a mangled ruin. Then the ground beneath opened into a vast mouth lined with stone teeth and thorn-covered gums formed from rubble and vines. Its breath stank of rot and ancient decay. The hand released him. His broken corpse fell screaming into the darkness below. The mouth slammed shut. Silence returned. Slowly the giant hands loosened their grip upon the skull and sank back into the earth. The screaming mouths upon their wrists fell quiet and sealed themselves shut as they disappeared beneath the soil.

The vines followed. They unwound from the structure and slithered downward like black serpents retreating into hidden burrows. Without their support the skull-house collapsed inward, vanishing piece by piece into the thickening fog. At last nothing remained, only the barren hilltop, only the drifting mist. A gentle wind swept across the landscape once more, carrying dead leaves over the place where the impossible structure had stood, covering every trace of what had occurred there until the hill appeared untouched.

As though none of it had ever happened.

This story was the foundation for my Dreamscapes album that I released in 2023, you can listen on youtube or on all music platforms. The Dreamscapes tale was born from an art series I have been creating for a while.