I’m going to try to describe a scene that I often visit in my dreams. If I could draw that would be a better way to do this, but I can’t…
I always approach it from the water, usually a river. I often start above the scene, on a ridge or hilltop, but I always descend to the river and arrive in a boat or swimming. (I seem to swim a lot in my dreams – selkie fantasies anyone?)
The scene is drenched in blue, varying shades but all dim. I occasionally see a light in a window or on a porch, but not always.
The approach is barely above the water line (and sometimes the bottom porch dips into the water, from ill repair or general decrepitude or perhaps just rising water levels. The structure is clearly made of wood, and seems to consist of a lot of separate apartments, evenly spread among four or five (or six) floors. The building is rectangular (almost square), and even though the edges feel eroded or corrupt its adherence to that geometric shape seems consistent/standardized/coherent.
As I approach there are poles sticking from the water. They’re probably more accurately piles, as they are big enough to build a platform on. They might have had a platform on them at one time, even another apartment structure, but they are far past having the capability to carry weight now. Still, they’re an integral part of the scene.
There is also very little sky. The building/structure is surrounded by vague, ill-formed forest, casting the structure in shadow. The shadows behind the porches are simply deeper variations of the overall dimness.
It’s hard not to describe this structure in Gothic terms, a crutch I’m trying not to use.
I either climb from the water or step onto the porch from my boat. If there was a buffer between the building and the water (a deck, or a platform, or even a staircase or landing) it’s been gone for a long time. As I walk along the porch I can see into the various apartments, none of which have ever been occupied in this dream.