The World of the Worm's End
May. 23rd, 2010 10:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
caper_estLast night I made a new and lovely discovery on LibriVox: its volunteer Jason Mills has created the whole audio-book of one of my old public-domain favourites, E R Eddison's The Worm Ouroboros. Sumptuous! Let us now praise all cheerful givers and sharers.
The inevitable result was that I spent a great part of last night in a long and involved dream set in the far future of that world, in which Witchland and Demonland and the rest had broken out of their old doom, and built a global modern civilization with hospitals and Indian restaurants and fiat currency and everything. Also, it had motorways and Tube networks connecting it directly with Bristol and London. I think the dread mountain of Zora Rach nam Psarrion was rather more closely accessible from Bristol than was quite reassuring , and that the gang and I were trying to retrieve somebody from its damnations; but the method was rather involved, and I'm not sure that I followed the logic of it even in the dream. Shepherding a large crocodile of bewildered infants down the side of the M4 motorway was part of it. My late Dad was the brains of the whole operation, and he was in one of his inscrutable humours. Lord Juss was definitely behind my family's urgent invitation to the Curry Gardens of Variable Geometry, though - and I had more than a suspicion that Lord Gro was behind all the snide five hundred pound bills.
The point, if there was one, appears chiefly to have been to prevent my rising from my bed any less exhausted than when I retired. But it was a good exhaustion!
Also: 890 words of Book, on madness and vengeance and the darning of stockings.
The inevitable result was that I spent a great part of last night in a long and involved dream set in the far future of that world, in which Witchland and Demonland and the rest had broken out of their old doom, and built a global modern civilization with hospitals and Indian restaurants and fiat currency and everything. Also, it had motorways and Tube networks connecting it directly with Bristol and London. I think the dread mountain of Zora Rach nam Psarrion was rather more closely accessible from Bristol than was quite reassuring , and that the gang and I were trying to retrieve somebody from its damnations; but the method was rather involved, and I'm not sure that I followed the logic of it even in the dream. Shepherding a large crocodile of bewildered infants down the side of the M4 motorway was part of it. My late Dad was the brains of the whole operation, and he was in one of his inscrutable humours. Lord Juss was definitely behind my family's urgent invitation to the Curry Gardens of Variable Geometry, though - and I had more than a suspicion that Lord Gro was behind all the snide five hundred pound bills.
The point, if there was one, appears chiefly to have been to prevent my rising from my bed any less exhausted than when I retired. But it was a good exhaustion!
Also: 890 words of Book, on madness and vengeance and the darning of stockings.
