am i disqualified from this JOYOUS ACT OF CREATION if i write something instead
never got a response to this but i assume writings are allowed anyways, so here are days 1-3 in order, taking the form of a fictional dream-journal:
1. Demonic
"...on black wings backlit by dull crimson light, I dreamt of a king of hell atop a throne. There it was, with skulls and fire and the scent of brimstone. His crown bulged with many eyes, and it breathed, belching flames as it did so. Our blue-eyed king of hell was rising. In his hands, the living crown writhed, and beckoned to be affixed to my skull. Panting, slavering of tongue, the click of teeth.
This was a passing of the mantle, and an inevitable coronation. And yet as I ascended steps that screeched with each impact, doubt began to beset me. Was I truly to be a master? Was this a beautiful lie, a promise of sitting astride the fates of men, a pleasant whisper of promise to beckon me into being consumed?
One moment bled slowly into the next, a dripping passage of time. I was never to ascend these steps, I knew then, and so I looked up from my feet. There was the Crown of Hell, writhing and gnawing upon a pile of demon-bones. An empty skeleton, stripped of flesh.
And my dream thus ended."
2. Blood
“...blood is the water of the body, in that it is the chief source of life. In a dream this was thrown into sharp relief.
On the banks of a red river lived men with the character of mosquitoes. They dug ditches to nourish their crops, artificial offshoots of the main flow of slow and sticky red. Pulsing hearts grew like dates on a palm and tendons swayed in the breeze like wheat-grass. Their lives were blessed, one could tell at a glance. Blood flowed, and the land became alive as easy as breathing. As I approached the banks, I spied two among their number, old, swapping snippets of conversation as they cupped their hands, lifting up droplets of blood-river to their proboscises:
',,,a dam built, in the north. What is to be done...?'
'...so many other flows lost. When it is built, will it cease flow...?'
'...the banks already recede, and the burbles from the earth are replaced with silence...'
'...make preparations to move...'
And the dream thus ended."
3. Mutation
"There is a beauty in seeing things resist stasis.
Despite its strangeness, then, I found this a beautiful dream.
I walked here and there amidst many puddles after rain. I looked into the reflection of one, and I saw a creature bordering on the rat, with small rodent tail and whiskers. In cowardice I looked away, frightened, but could not escape my reflection in another puddle, where I noticed myself standing entirely upright: a rat with long arms and gangly hind legs, crouching down. I beheld in my eyes a dim spark, the kindling of intellect. I swaggered forward onto the next puddle, and the next premonition: the tail entirely gone, my eyes warm and deep with thought. More man than rat at this stage. Swaggering forward, I took on many and diverse forms, mutation towards some upper limit not yet reached, becoming less and less beast and more and more thought until eventually... I existed entirely without reflection, a thought on the wind regarding itself.
Thus my dream ends."