in my dream, i ran barefoot though the snow towards the temple flame. there were ornate spires, gilded and severe set against the blue winter sky.
i was running, and my footprints began shallow, and went deeper into the frost as i picked up speed. the flat wide of the soles felt no cold.
after a while, i reached the structure; the flames seemed to roar and crackle. the fire rose up like a solid sheet, like a shifting amorphous living being, like the surface of the sun.
i stood in awe of this energy and my feet sank into the dense bank. after a few moments, the fires dissipated like an ethereal veil being lifted by the wind, or a memory in the process of being forgotten. a few moments more, and it was gone.
all that was left of the temple was a cold shell. in the braces and beams, multiples of birds were roped together alongside the metal. nothing made sense, and the only thoughts i had were, "why did these birds survive the fire, only to be lashed to the skeleton?" and "how can the elements shift so rapidly, without a sense of emotional responsibility, without a care for who was a witness or who would remember it?"
i thought these thoughts to myself, and heard voices in the distance behind me. i turned around to see who it was calling out my name in the dark, and i rapidly awoke to an overcast day and a lingering powerful rainstorm rapping at my bedroom windows.
prepare some scrap paper or a recorder to document those moments of your dreams you remember, and try to be as truthful to the dream itself as possible.