I am somewhere talking with a being who at least appears to be in a higher state than I am in.
He says, "You know that time works in the exact opposite way from the common perception of it ..."
I look up at the clock and the hands are pencils, one fat and one thin; the erasers are rubbing out the moments of time.
He gazes at me and asks, "Do you know how long until the ice slab returns?" rhetorical on his part I think. Somehow it seems the answer is 60 years.
"Where will you go when the time comes?"
I respond, "Somewhere high up; and a place that is not on the usual grid."
He nods; He says in a frightening manner, "We are on thin ice now."
I wake, disturbed.