The Tree
Lucid Codex Entry 008
It began with a scream.
And ended with a tree.
She didn’t remember the beginning...just the sprint. Already mid-run. Barefoot. Bleeding. Golden fog clung to her lungs like syrup, thick and radiant, muffling sound and stretching time. Somewhere ahead, a dull orange glow blinked like a warning. Or a beacon.
Each step shredded her feet. The earth was jagged. Burnt. Ancient. But she didn’t stop.
Something was behind her.
It wasn’t wind.
It wasn’t a beast.
It was the sound of the sky unzipping. Like the fabric of reality was being peeled back to expose something that hated being seen.
Then she saw it.
The tree.
Monolithic. Blacker than oil, glossier than obsidian. It stretched impossibly wide...roots thick as highways, twisted like coiled serpents across a scorched valley. Its trunk shimmered with glowing gold veins, pulsing with heat, like magma lived inside it.
There were no leaves.
Only bodies.
Hundreds of them.
Suspended from thick golden cords that grew from the branches like veins from a heart.
They weren’t hanged.
They weren’t dead.
They were dreaming.
Eyes closed. Limbs slack. Faces frozen in liminal emotion...some smiling faintly, some crying, some twitching as if caught in an unseen loop. The tree didn’t hold them. It fed on them.
And then...the scream again.
Not hers.
Not human.
It came from inside the bark, like the tree itself had lungs.
She was pulled forward...not by curiosity, but recognition. The kind that makes you dizzy. Like remembering a death that hasn’t happened yet.
She stepped closer.
A body near her stirred. A man. His eyes snapped open...black pupils swirling with starlight. Whole constellations blinked behind his gaze.
His mouth didn’t move.
But his voice echoed inside her skull:
“You’re not awake yet. None of us are.”
The cords pulsed.
The tree fed.
She felt it. A gentle extraction, like memories being steamed from her bones. Her name. Her age. The year. The why of anything. It all began to flake away like paint under fire.
She turned to run.
But the ground cracked.
A thick root burst upward and snapped around her ankle...warm and pulsing. It wasn’t wood. It was veined flesh.
“You asked for clarity,” the voice said. “This is where the truths are stored.”
She thrashed. Kicked. Screamed until her throat frayed.
Somehow, she broke free.
She crawled through the ash, coughing up her own breath.
Then...she saw it.
Herself.
One of the hanging bodies wasn’t still.
It spasmed.
It convulsed.
It was waking up.
Same chin scar. Same half-curled hair. Same mouth slightly open in a scream that never finished.
How many versions of me are here?
She staggered backward.
The fog thickened.
The sky warped like heat over asphalt.
Just before it swallowed her...
The tree moved.
A crack split down its trunk. Slow. Deliberate.
It opened.
Inside was no wood.
Inside was flesh.
A mouth.
Muscled. Wet. Whispering.
Her name.
Then..
Nothing.
She was gone.
-
Dream 7/7/24
I was on a bridge and I said, "There's only one infinity tree left," and others were with me. It felt like we were fighting to get what was on the tree, and I ate whatever it was.
I was traveling through something I can't explain. I wound up in a car, talking with my mom. She was driving. We were at her place, and the conversation seemed peaceful. She showed me her garden. It had a little bit of everything. I was very impressed because she isn't a gardener...I am.
I remember telling her I looked up the best place to live weather-wise and said it was California. She mentioned it wasn't, but I don't remember another suggestion. It made me wonder if California may not be the best place to move.
Then I jumped back to finish protecting the infinity tree.
