Yggdrasil

Several nights ago as I crawled into bed, an image entered my mind of a vast cavernous place with flowing, organic, luminous walls opening every direction into numerous tunnels. It looked like Luray Caverns, although the walls were smooth and continuous. The light, mostly earthy gold with currents of green and crimson, was not reflected, but emitted from within the translucent surfaces. One large disc was nearly bright as sunlight. Other sections and passages were dark.

It began to feel like a womb, with openings leading to arteries and organs of Mother Earth. Then I realized I moved within the roots of Yggdrasil, the World Tree of Norse cosmology, but felt no sense of malice or intrigue. It was immensely comfortable, and I could travel safely anywhere. Lower passages seemed to lead to security, warmth, instinct and nourishment; higher ones to vision, refreshment, power and knowledge.

One upward chimney opened high above into a deep violet-blue sky, some kind of heaven. I felt drawn to this, allowing my body to rise through the passage.

But I was powerfully tired. Weight of sleep dragged me downward into darkness. The vision ended.

Every night since, I have wanted to re-enter that place.