The dream ship

I was brought here by a
cat, although I do not
remember where the cat found
me, and I do not know where
I am now. A vessel of some
kind. A ship, perhaps.

When I walk on deck, there
is nothing but mist. There
is also nowhere to fit
a thousand of us.

But beneath the
decks there is a
hall. It changes:

sometimes it
is jungle,

sometimes,
theatre,

sometimes a
banqueting
place,

sometimes a
parliament.

I am reminded of a house in a
dream. Nothing is consistent,
save for the essence of the place.

We are friends here on this vessel,
and we do not harm each other.

And this is odd.
We are not of the same
species, or even the same
order of things. We
cannot exist in one
place together.

Rr'arr'rr'll is a
floating jelly-balloon
from a gas-giant
world.

Lo Sharforth
is a superheated
glob of solar
plasma, a
thousand
miles
across.

The Rising is a
bacteria complex,
one of the
universe's greatest
mathematicians, yet
immediately lethal
to the majority of
life-forms it
encounters.

But we are
all here.

I wonder what
they see.

I wonder how
they'll talk.

I wish I could
remember my
name.

on The Sandman Overture, Chapter Six, by Neil Gaiman