Upon reflection, the intellectual depth and nuances of a seasoned scholar like Morris were markedly different than those of the average individual.
During his thoughtful moment, Morris posed a question that provided immediate insight to many around him.
“As we try to piece the puzzle, we must consider an important hypothesis,” Morris started, comfortably settling into his couch. “Vanna experienced a ‘desert’ while others describe a ‘forest’. We assume both these landscapes are from the same Dream of the Nameless One. From this perspective, there are two potential interpretations,” he continued, elucidating his thoughts, “It’s either that the ‘desert’ and ‘forest’ are occurring simultaneously but in different places, or they are the same place, just depicted at different times. But one thing is clear: they aren’t two wholly independent settings. Either space and time intersect in one way or the other.”
As she tried to grasp Morris’s deep train of thought, Nina asked, puzzled, “Why couldn’t these places represent different moments and locations simultaneously?”
Morris patiently responded, “Because they both belong to a single ‘dream’. A singular dream can’t encompass multiple separate timelines or spatial entities. If it did, then we would be discussing two distinct dreams based on the understanding I currently have.”
Nina nodded, her expression a blend of enlightenment and lingering questions.
Deeply absorbed in thought, Duncan considered the two interpretations Morris had offered. Reflecting on their earlier findings, he finally voiced out, “We must remember that beyond the ‘desert’ and ‘forest’, there’s this unique place that seems to blur the lines of reality. It doesn’t lie within the dream, but it’s undeniably a segment of the Dream of the Nameless One.”
Recognizing Duncan’s reference, Morris swiftly added, with a sense of gravity, “You’re talking about that nebulous realm with the other ‘Vanished’ where the vessel sails amidst the mist, aren’t you? What does that mysterious, mist-covered territory signify within the context of the Dream of the Nameless One?”
Duncan offered his perspective, “To me, it feels like a transitional space, perhaps marking the boundary between waking and deep slumber. On the ship, the ‘Vanished’, one can feel the remnants of Atlantis, yet there’s no direct glimpse into the dream itself. This hints at the features of a dream’s periphery. It’s fascinating to think that this ‘boundary’ within the Dream of the Nameless One is so expansive that it can accommodate a ship wandering freely within.”
Duncan’s thoughts were consumed by the vibrant, shimmering rays of light he had experienced aboard the ship. These beams were not just dazzling sights; they resonated with the haunting voice of Atlantis, filling him with a sense of wonder and contemplation.
The shadow was more than just a ship; it was a manifestation born from the dream of Goathead’s. It sailed the ethereal waters that bordered the dream world of Atlantis. Within this dream world, the majestic city of Atlantis seemed perpetually in a state of expectation, waiting for Saslokha. Yet, the goat head in the dream had disclosed a profound secret to Duncan: Saslokha had not just passed away but had been gone for eons.
Engrossed in these reflections, Duncan abruptly roused himself, shaking his head as if to dispel the weight of the revelation. As he looked around the room, he sensed an anomaly. His eyes locked onto Lucretia, and he inquired, “Where is Rabbi?”
Lucretia smirked slightly, “Took you a while to notice. Rabbi hasn’t come back. She’s ventured into another dream, likely hunting down those she perceives as prey.”
Duncan, momentarily startled, soon pieced together the implications of Lucretia’s statement.
Could it be that the eerie rabbit doll, Rabbi, had indeed pursued those mysterious cult members?
Lucretia continued, “When Rabbi emerges, she will have journeyed through the cultists’ darkest nightmares. She’s been instructed to spare some of them and will leave behind clues in the tangible world, guiding you to their location. Trust me; Rabbi is proficient in such endeavors.”
Acknowledging her words, Duncan gave a slight nod.
Suddenly, an intuitive sensation made him glance at the coffee table next to him. As he delicately traced his fingers over its surface, a phantasmal green flame danced to life, outlining a space that began reflecting like a mirror. Within this newfound portal, the figure of Agatha gradually formed.
“Agatha,” Duncan addressed the woman taking shape within the reflection, “Has something transpired on the ship?”
Agatha responded promptly, her voice filled with urgency, “I believe I’ve unearthed the catalyst for the recent awakening in the Dream of the Nameless One. It appears to be tied to the ship’s first mate. I urge you to come back to the ship if you can.”
……
Amidst the brackish waters of Wind Harbor, the vessel known as the “Vanished” coursed its way, enshrouded by a dense, mystifying fog. Without warning, a fiery portal ignited on its deck, casting an otherworldly light. From this luminous gateway, two figures stepped forth— Duncan and Alice.
As the light from the portal dimmed, Duncan, feeling the gentle sway of the ship beneath his feet, turned to see Alice by his side. The decision for Alice to return with him had been a swift one, marked by her unwavering loyalty. Spotting Duncan’s questioning gaze, Alice responded with her characteristic silly grin, exclaiming playfully, “Looks like you’ve got my company again!”
Sighing with a mix of amusement and exasperation, Duncan motioned to the doll, “Since you’re here, I need you to inspect the food storage area. Check on those barrels we suspected of being tainted.”
Eyes gleaming with enthusiasm, Alice saluted and chirped, “On it, Captain!” Her steps, light and animated, took her away, leaving Duncan to watch her momentarily before he redirected his path to the captain’s chambers.
Upon pushing open the chamber doors, he was met with an unexpected sight. The goat head, an unsettling yet familiar presence aboard the “Vanished”, was already there, its dark, glassy eyes staring intently at him. Positioned a few feet away, an ornate oval mirror displayed the reflection of Agatha. The usually stoic “Gatekeeper” now looked visibly drained, her features etched with fatigue and concern.
Before Duncan could voice his surprise at Agatha’s appearance, the goat head, with an almost frenzied urgency, began to chatter incessantly:
“Ah! Captain! I’ve been waiting endlessly! Is it true? What Agatha mentioned? That the Dream of the Nameless One manifested again? Did you encounter another entity resembling me? Agatha told me that the mysterious ‘Vanished’ originated from my dream, but I wasn’t even aware I could dream! She spoke of an involuntary ‘jolt’ from me that stirred the Dream of the Nameless One, disrupting your plans. But I assure you, I remember nothing of such events! I never intended to keep any secrets from you…”
Duncan felt overwhelmed by the barrage of questions, the frantic pitch of the goat head’s voice feeling like sharp needles in his ears. A maddening resonance filled the room, echoing around him, until finally, with a firm gesture and a raised voice, he exclaimed, “Silence!”
The goat head ceased its verbal onslaught abruptly. From its base, a chilling, cracking sound echoed, reminiscent of strained wood or bone— suggesting that even the sudden halt had physical repercussions.
As Duncan stepped into the room, the unmistakable echo of Agatha’s sigh filled the air. The sound emanated from the ornate mirror nearby, reminiscent of a prisoner breathing a sigh of relief upon being set free. “At last, the ordeal ends…”
Duncan’s eyes narrowed as he threw a quizzical look at the mirror, where Agatha’s image was etched.
“Per your instructions, I kept no secrets from the first mate about last night’s happenings,” Agatha explained, the weariness evident in her voice and posture. “Then, this ensued. Before you came in, it wouldn’t stop its relentless prattle. Regardless of where I retreated on the ship, its voice persisted. I’ve faced vengeful spirits in the crypts of Frost who, even after suffering betrayal, losing loved ones, meeting their deaths, and resurrecting due to unyielding bitterness, weren’t nearly as chatty. The sheer volume of its talk exceeds that of a gathering of old women bemoaning the rising cost of bread at a marketplace!”
With growing frustration, she lamented, “I’ve tried, but I can’t silence it! It seems only you have the power to command it into submission!”
Realization dawned on Duncan as he fathomed the magnitude of Agatha’s recent trials. Suppressing a chuckle, he empathetically remarked, “It seems you’ve endured quite a challenge…”
Wearily, Agatha heaved another sigh, and her image in the mirror momentarily shattered, indicating her unwillingness to engage further.
Shaking his head in bemusement, Duncan wondered if introducing his crew to such intricate notions had been a mistake, given their sometimes bewildering interpretations.
Returning his focus to the looming presence of the goat head, he locked eyes with the carved figure. The inanimate object, though wooden, looked oddly distorted, possibly burdened by its tumultuous emotions.
Initiating the conversation, Duncan instructed, “First and foremost, control your incessant chatter.” Pausing for emphasis, he added, “And yes, Agatha’s account is accurate.”
The goat head seemed to process this, its carved mouth opening and closing multiple times, eventually uttering, “So, it was genuinely a reflection of my dream that gave form to the Vanished you encountered in that shadowy realm?”
Drawing a measured breath, Duncan responded, “Another possibility is that, as night cloaks Wind Harbor, your dreams sail on the fringes of the Dream of the Nameless One.”
The wooden figure rocked slightly, emitting subtle creaking noises, appearing genuinely perplexed. “But I was certain… My conscious navigation matched the sea chart’s record of the Vanished’s course, consistent with my recollections…”
Agatha, who had been silent till then, interjected sharply, “Then how would you rationalize your abrupt unease as dawn approached?”
The room was filled with a palpable silence, only punctuated by the heavy weight of the goat head’s absence of words.
Duncan then shifted his gaze to the antique mirror.
Agatha, fragmented just moments ago, now looked entirely whole and alert, watching the unfolding drama with rapt attention.
“After my abrupt departure from the Dream of the Nameless One, I hastened back to this location,” Agatha commenced, her voice firm and laced with intent. “Upon my return, I observed the first mate transitioning from what appeared to be a deep, trance-induced state back to normalcy. While it feigned having been lost in simple daydreams, I couldn’t help but note the uncanny synchronicity: the reflection of the ‘Vanished’ seemed to regain its form the very instant the first mate ‘awakened’. My intuition leads me to posit that this simultaneous event might be the catalyst that abruptly terminated the Dream of the Nameless One.”
“Hence, I’m led to believe,” Agatha continued with a thoughtful pause, “that the fate of the Dream of the Nameless One is intimately linked to its dreamers. Be it the mystical realm of Atlantis or our ‘First Mate’, the moment one of them regains consciousness, the dream reaches its conclusion.”
