I dreamed this morning.
My friend Erin invited me to play video games with her and her friends. We started playing a very unusual version of Super Mario World. Mario suddenly turned into a fish, who had to navigate a river filled with bigger, uglier fish. The Mario fish became trapped by one large fish's poison-dart tentacle suction cups. Something about this brought me into a river.
I dreamt of this river previously, but had forgotten about it. Now I was there again. The landscape is an open plain of rolling hills, dusted with lichen or moss. The sky is painfully vacant of clouds. The few clouds there are are thin, and drift on the horizon. The sun is uninhibited, and reflects blindingly off of the ground and river water. The river is very shallow, maybe 4 feet at its deepest, and races across this plain. It is almost like the world has just begun. The water is coursing here, but hasn't done so for very long, and might at any moment swing wildly to one side or another. The hills are also shallow, swooping, and numberous. Craggy formations and rock pedestals are scattered, but are so few they do not intimidate or impress as much as the vacant plain. There is a woman, and her son, and they are swimming up stream. Sometimes I am the nature, other times a man, swimming after and watching them - but not threateningly. Sometimes I am the boy, or I peer deeply into his face. Other times I am the mother, or peering deeply into her face, while she caters to the boy. Then "I" dive in. I race under the water in a deep section, and when I surface, I find myself sitting on an embankment, besides two or three older aborigines. Last time I was alone here, very alone. This time there are others. I don't understand them, and they don't understand me. The boy and mother do though, like the three of us are distant cousins of this groups. We are all travelling up and down the stream, but we don't know each other, but are happy to meet.