In Comaville to Dream of Plant Razors

Recently I ave been suffering from a bout of crazy dreams. To be fair 'crazy' isn't the right word, these dreams are more eerie with a touch of the disturbed. They are not nightmares, there is nothing horrifying in them in the typical sense of horror. No demons or grisly deaths. No hell beasts intent on tearing my throat out. No being tortured by one footed goblins with diamond crucifixes for eyes. The terror is more subtle than any of those. But its there.
I could use many words to describe the 'atmosphere' in these dreams but none would be as good as the photo below. This was a photograph I myself took in Cenarth Falls here in Wales, with the negative effect on. Usually it is a beautiful part of the country but with this effect, Cenarth took on a completely different look. The mill house looks so sinister, so deserted. Indeed to me the scene below looks like it is waiting for something terrible to occur. Something from the devil's chapter of tales, and this is how my dreams feel.


Photo courtesy of 'Eyes Beneath the Skin'.

Outright there is nothing to fear from them. (At least at the start). I find myself slipping off into a pleasant world beneath the cider and whisky clouds, a land that is definately Wales but nowhere I could say for certain. Some scenes mimick the beaches of Burry Port and Pembrey where I grew up, while others, the mountains and rugged coastlines could be anywhere in the country, from Portmeirion in the North right down to Angle in Pembrokeshire.
No monsters inhabit these lands. In fact once my feet touch down on the feathery, silk grass, away from the alcoholic buzz, I am often met by much missed family members such as my mother, who have crossed from the mortal sleep into the realm of spirits.