Inside the dream, another unfolded, I wrote down my experience, this is what I wrote
I often think of winter, I spend time in its solemn darkness. I drive down that straight empty road in the car I no longer have. I watch the snow rush past the windows in the frigid night air. I am alone. The research station is dug deep into the earth. The inside is nicely decorated. It’s warm. Why do I so often dream of winter, and research posts, and the dark? I think about the car, I think about how I fixed it, although then I recall that didn’t happen. Not here anyway. I speculate on how it could be driven when so many parts were destroyed. I realize it cannot, at least not in the real world. Here, I drive its ghost through an endless winter night, the air freezing and ice visible on the ground. I do not fear for my safety. The darkness and snow remain forever. I dream of the cold, of silence, yet for the wind, of snow and ice, and the feeling of driving, alone, down a highway, through a night that never ends. Never slowing, never stopping, into the pure black, forever.