I felt powerful and full of energy. A woman from work rode up alongside me on her bicycle, wearing her safety vest and helmet and lights and everything. And we were going alongside traffic. I was keeping up just fine, 15 miles an hour or so. I felt invincible. "Sometimes you just feel like you have to do something, you're just so full and--" I said, and Lynette responded, "Yeah! I know!", and we went on. The lanes got even more narrow, with parking on the side, so we went onto the sidewalk. And still I was running. It had been like 3 miles now, and I was chugging along, brimming with energy and joy. We looked behind to see my companion bathed in sweat, red in the face... so stopped out in front of a McMenamin's restaurant. My co-worker pulled out her camera, and I took a picture of my companion... who looked deathly pale and ill from exhaustion. She smiled at me and asked how the photo came out. I erred and said I'd leave the two to socialize while I scoped out the restaurant.
I headed around the small building to the grassy picnic area out back. A creek ran alongside, and at a picnic table right next to the water, were several more co-workers. "Hey Candice!" said one, "Maybe you can tell us how far down that goes!". I looked into the creek. It started out shallow, but quickly rushed downward into the murkier water, presumably 10 or more feet deep. I really wanted to know just how deep. "As Steve Irwin would say," I charmingly replied, "'Terri, Get me a stick'!". The table of people laughed and I started outside the picnic area. Conveniently, there was a forest directly out back, running with the creek. I knew I'd find a long stick if I looked enough.
The forest was old growth. Tall, big, crackly-bark trees that looked dry and static. And there was a path, easily 20 feet wide. Not really a path at all, but it'd been cleared well enough. I couldn't find a stick of any size... the forest looked picked clean. Just dirt and trees and some moss. I continued down. It was beautiful and I couldn't stop admiring it. (I was wondering how the hell this was in southeast Portland.) Eventually, there were some rock formations ahead of me, mossy on top. I started toward them.
And as the trees began to move aside, I soon came to a quarry-like valley, with steep cliff faces encircling me. The first thing I noticed were the marble alcoves built into the cliff faces, with life-size golden lions inside, guarding the valley. A Parthenon-style building was at the very top of the cliffs. And a guard tower stood not far away as well. Everything was alabaster and gold and bright. The cliffs themselves almost sparkled too. At this time, a grandiose orchestral score flooded my ears, and I stood observing it all in awe. It was so, so, so beautiful.
Somehow, the vision faded and turned into my own pencil drawing. I was looking at the cliffs, nit-picking my technique (just as I would be in real life). My grandfather was next to me, asking about the dream, and I explained it to him.
"A lost civilization, or just... a civilization?" he asked.
"No, it was like... I don't know!"
"Describe it to me again."
And I did. A few sentences in, I hazily reentered consciousness, and kept on talking. After I'd described the valley I looked over at my boyfriend, who was listening intently. I'd been talking for quite a while. Then I recreated the drawing in a few minutes.