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Minigolf
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7
Night Ride into the Dark Dreamland
A foggy night. Ominous gray-blue. The moon, although full, is just a shadowy, blurred spot of light. The carriage arrives. Later than expected, the dark-clad passengers are already slightly impatient. Now they get in, settling onto creaky benches covered with a wool blanket. Two in front, two in the back, their pale faces turned towards each other.
Only soft murmurs and whispers.
They hear the driver cracking the whip through the air, the signal that the ride is starting. The two horses hitched up are doing their job well, trotting briskly but cautiously through the night. Over damp, unpaved paths, over cobblestones and out into the fields. Soft whinnies occasionally accompany the journey. Past stubble fields, now bare deciduous trees that seem to take on often strange shapes. An earthy-leafy scent wafts into their noses. From somewhere, incense drifts in, as dark as this late evening, into the carriage interior. The fellow passengers seem to be blissfully absorbing the olfactory dark cloud. They are soon at their destination, a lonely inn, far outside the city. It looks mysterious, as the architectural style is unusual. Dark brick, the sturdy walls in octagonal shape, with a kind of turret at each corner, where flickering candles burn in the windows. The size of the building is impressive, as each "bay turret" serves as a guest room and downstairs is the tavern.
The guests disembark from the carriage in "joyful anticipation" and enter the dimly lit dining room, where candles live their burning existence in colored glasses, in dark red, violet, and dark blue. The atmosphere is mystical.
And it smells of all sorts of spices mixed with resins and earthy patchouli oil to deepen the mood. Everyone sits at a specially prepared round table, on which stands a dark purple glass lantern. The innkeeper serves a drink, probably an herbal brew, and sits down with the driver among the guests. Everyone is to hold hands and think of mysterious things they want to dream about. A séance? Almost! Only this is not about ghosts and spirits, but about dark-mystical, pleasantly creepy dreams!
And the "success" does not take long to manifest. One gets inner images of a walk through a moorland, another of dark, deep forests where one could get lost. A third sees in his mind's eye the interior of a house, whose doors always lead into another room with doors. Opened, no matter which, another room with doors...
Like an endless loop... A fourth dreams of stairs that seem never-ending, of attics with "unsafe" wooden floors. And many more peculiarities.
And always, each of the dreams is accompanied by ONE specific scent that makes everything even more MYSTERIOUS: THIS ONE HERE! A melange of all those strangely dark, magical impressions. Everyone enjoys it......
Only soft murmurs and whispers.
They hear the driver cracking the whip through the air, the signal that the ride is starting. The two horses hitched up are doing their job well, trotting briskly but cautiously through the night. Over damp, unpaved paths, over cobblestones and out into the fields. Soft whinnies occasionally accompany the journey. Past stubble fields, now bare deciduous trees that seem to take on often strange shapes. An earthy-leafy scent wafts into their noses. From somewhere, incense drifts in, as dark as this late evening, into the carriage interior. The fellow passengers seem to be blissfully absorbing the olfactory dark cloud. They are soon at their destination, a lonely inn, far outside the city. It looks mysterious, as the architectural style is unusual. Dark brick, the sturdy walls in octagonal shape, with a kind of turret at each corner, where flickering candles burn in the windows. The size of the building is impressive, as each "bay turret" serves as a guest room and downstairs is the tavern.
The guests disembark from the carriage in "joyful anticipation" and enter the dimly lit dining room, where candles live their burning existence in colored glasses, in dark red, violet, and dark blue. The atmosphere is mystical.
And it smells of all sorts of spices mixed with resins and earthy patchouli oil to deepen the mood. Everyone sits at a specially prepared round table, on which stands a dark purple glass lantern. The innkeeper serves a drink, probably an herbal brew, and sits down with the driver among the guests. Everyone is to hold hands and think of mysterious things they want to dream about. A séance? Almost! Only this is not about ghosts and spirits, but about dark-mystical, pleasantly creepy dreams!
And the "success" does not take long to manifest. One gets inner images of a walk through a moorland, another of dark, deep forests where one could get lost. A third sees in his mind's eye the interior of a house, whose doors always lead into another room with doors. Opened, no matter which, another room with doors...
Like an endless loop... A fourth dreams of stairs that seem never-ending, of attics with "unsafe" wooden floors. And many more peculiarities.
And always, each of the dreams is accompanied by ONE specific scent that makes everything even more MYSTERIOUS: THIS ONE HERE! A melange of all those strangely dark, magical impressions. Everyone enjoys it......
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