In this dream, I’m in the multi-storied house on Thiers I lived
in back in elementary school. I look out one of our windows and descry
the looming shapes of nearby towers on the horizon. One of them is made
of stone and follows the familiar lines of a castle; the other is a
much smoother surface, perhaps of metal, and its shape is like a large,
asymmetrical, relatively sharp sickle. I am entranced by both and fired
up with the desire to capture their images by drawing or photographing
them. My father grants his permission for me to go up to the roof for
this purpose. I ascend the long, winding stairway and open the door. To
my surprise, I find that the door to our roof no longer opens onto an
uncovered surface. Instead, I am now at the base of a school, which
itself has several stories. Since my intention is to look upon the open
sky, I begin to ascend these levels. (I am foreign to this school; I
believe I adopt some kind of disguise to conceal myself.) Eventually I
reach the top of the school–I can’t recall any details of my ascent to
it. Although the towers that enticed me were backlit by a bright sun
hovering in the sky, the firmament is black now as I look out into it.
I seem to have forgotten about the towers. They’re not visible to me.
For one thing, I seem to have ascended much higher than their peaks.
For another, it’s too dark to see beyond the rooftop I’m standing on.
Indeed, I can’t make out anything below me. The school owns some kind
of mechanism for setting off firework displays. I avail myself of it
and light up the dark sky in explosive flashes.