Strange dream last night. A group of four people, of whom I was one (but not as myself) were living in an old, wooden house in a heavily wooded area. The lighting, the mood, was all horror movie chic, and there was some sort of metanarrative going on, insofar as I understand elements of what was going on that were not privvy to the people, despite my sharing one of their points of view.
The house was inhabited by a massive, green skinned woman. Not as in she walked the halls, but as in she was part of the fabric of the house; the ancient boards and lathes and plaster had been put up around her, or perhaps she had slowly manifested into the walls and crawlspaces. Walking through the building you caught no sight of her, but throughout the dream the bedroom in which I slept dripped huge drops of dirty water, distorting the plaster of the ceiling, which cracked and curled revealing oily seams. By the end of the dream I realized that a face had been revealed by the curling plaster, with massive eyes as dark and gleaming as jet. The drops were her tears, and it was a startling revelation, when in my mind’s eye I went from seeing a horribly distorted ceiling to a great and melancholic face.
The four people were undergoing some strange magical alterations. They were developing powers they had no understanding of. At one point, they decided to go to a cemetary for reasons I now forget. En route, they developed the ability to create shimmering, dusky planes of energy in which their reflections could be seen. These reflections were their representations of their subconscious, and to which questions were put.