Tim Burton and the Planet-Trekkers

Tim Burton, a group of explorers and I are in outer space on a fragment of ice, in a cluster of fragments, that were once a planet made of ice. An unknown phenomenon had caused the planet to shatter and all that remains of the planet now is the cluster of ice fragments.

We are trekking across the fragments, exploring each of them, leaping from one to the other when we are finished, using our rocky mountain climbing equipment, some sharp, huge hooks for driving into the ice tied to knotted ropes for our hands to grip and to anchor ourselves as the fragments are slippery. If we fell we would be lost forever, floating until death divided our souls from our bodies in the infinite void of space.

Suddenly a black wind in the form of a Frisbee or a discus, appears at the far end of the cluster, and I know instinctively that this discus was the cause of the planet’s untimely demise … the why of its shattered form, and it rushes at us. Tim, the explorers and I dig our hooks into the ice of the fragment on which we stand, our hands gripping tightly the rope, just above the knot, hoping that it will stop the impact from causing our hands to slip free of the rope, as we waited for the impact to come.

It does. On the rope I am the second from the end, with Tim and the other explorers save one gripping onto the rope above me. When the discus crashes into the ice fragment, the impact rips the hook from the ice, and sends hook, rope and people hurtling across and into the deep. I am lucky and am flung onto an adjacent fragment not far from the one we were on. Tim and the explorers however are swept away.

I keep waiting for a sign of them in the dark, and for the discus to reappear and finish me off as well. I HATE being alone in the abyss waiting for the end. But the discus does not return, and soon I decide to search for the others, as the only other option is to stay there by myself and wait to die alone. Soon I come to a stretch of land, made completely of ice, and there recovering from their involuntary flight is Tim and the team. We are very grateful that all are alright. They had been worried about me as I was the only one separated from the group.

We begin to travel across the vast expanse of ice, the memory of the black wind discus far behind us, and soon we come to the end of that land and the beginning of a river. We leap onto a piece of ice and down that river we flow-ted. It is a fast and furious white water journey on our ice boat that ends abruptly at a short waterfall which takes us into a partially submerged room. This room is very reminiscent of the Wizard’s study in one of my previous dreams … “it is an underground hovel, cluttered with books and artefacts and objects, most of which are foreign to me and I know nothing about.”

The other explorers are either too weary or too wary to care much about room around us, filled with artefacts and objects and knee-high water pouring steadily through the open wall from the waterfall and the river into the room that never rises passed the knee. But me and Tim are delighted at the paraphernalia esoteria surrounding us and start exploring it all at once. This is when she appears, the old witch to whom the hovel belongs. She is kindly and like the wizard begins to explain the objects and artefacts all around us. We move over to a couch as she does this and sit down, unmindful of the water reaching to our knees. Indeed we do not even feel the cold of it, and thus the dream ends.