When they came, they formed lines of light and ink, spiraling into shapes that defied reason yet felt deeply familiar. Grief became a coastline.
2025.10.24
夢之製圖師珍
珍以她那雙寂靜的眼聞名——那雙眼彷彿藏著從未被人造訪過的地圖。她自稱為夢之製圖師。她的任務並非探索土地，而是描繪情感、記憶與被遺忘的姿態，那些在夢境深處如微光般漂浮的碎片。每個夜晚，她都坐在泛著微光的羊皮紙前，等待潛意識的低語浮現。當它們出現時，便化作光與墨的線條，盤旋成無法用理性解釋、卻深深熟悉的形狀。悲傷成為海岸線，喜悅化為閃耀的金河，懊悔折疊成消失於霧中的山脊。
珍的地圖不是用來閱讀的，而是用來感受的。那些觸摸過它的人說，他們聽見逝去親人的回音——姑母的笑聲、孩子的第一句話、最後告別前的靜默。
隨著年歲漸長，她自己的夢與地圖開始交融。某夜，墨跡拒絕乾涸。它在脈動，在呼吸，吸入她的記憶與心跳。黎明時，珍消失了，只留下最後一張地圖——第一張自己書寫的地圖。它仍微微發光，隨著每個夢境而變化。
Jane was known for her quiet eyes—eyes that seemed to contain maps of places no one had ever visited. She called herself a Dream Cartographer. Her task was not to explore lands but to chart emotions, memories, and forgotten gestures that drifted like faint constellations within sleeping minds.
Each night, she sat before her glowing parchment, waiting for whispers to rise from the collective unconscious. When they came, they formed lines of light and ink, spiraling into shapes that defied reason yet felt deeply familiar. Grief became a coastline. Joy shimmered as a river of gold. Regret folded into mountain ridges that disappeared into mist.
Jane’s maps were not meant to be read, only felt. Those who touched them claimed they heard echoes of voices they loved but lost—an aunt’s laughter, a child’s first word, the hush before a final goodbye.
As she aged, her own dreams began merging with the maps. One night, the ink refused to dry. It pulsed, alive, absorbing her breath, her pulse, her memory. By dawn, Jane had vanished, leaving behind a final map—the first one that drew itself. It still glows faintly, shifting with every dream ever dreamt.
