"In the migrainous straits of deep sleep, there is a marsh where candle-flames buzz like wasps."
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"The summit of Winking Isle is two dozen paces across, a flat lawn of springy grass -- black, or a deep green that seems black in this light. In the very centre stands a Well of black brick. As you cross the grass, scents arise: crushed flowers, camphor, ice. There may, or may not be, a lighthouse."[1]
Winking Isle is a lonely island accessible via sleep and a ritual.[2][3] It exists on the line dividing the High Wilderness and Parabola,[4] but is also said to be located in the eastern Unterzee.[5] When seen through dreams, the surroundings of Winking Isle are quite surreal: the "ocean" below is a starry night, and the "sky" above is the sea.[6] Winking Isle itself has a gravel path leading to its summit from a sandy shore; the summit is a candlelit lawn of dark green grass with a well of black brick at its center. The area has a distinct scent of crushed flowers, camphor, and ice.[7][8] Traditionally, the well is circled thrice at a time, but seven times is "consistent."[9]
No light.
The Lighthouse of Winking Isle is not here and gives off no light, yet still "flashes." It has no door,[10] but seven thousand steps lead to its topmost floor, and sigils of the Correspondence mark the walls along the way. The top floor contains a lens and apparatus, as well as journals of Mr Candles penned in an idiom of the Correspondence on meteorites and leather.[11] In the past, Candles held dominion over dreams,[12] and the Lighthouse may be from where he lit the "edge of sleep."[11][13]
↑Bend to the oars, Fallen London"Do not look down. Beneath you is the sky, quivering with stars. Do not look up. The sea waits to fall on you. Ahead, the inviolate isle, the invisible lighthouse, the Well."
↑Bend to the oars, Fallen London"Cross the beach of [...] sand, [...] Climb the path of white gravel to the place where the candles are lit."
↑The Well, Fallen London"The summit of Winking Isle [...] a flat lawn of springy grass [...] a deep green that seems black [...] the very centre stands a Well of black brick. [...] scents arise: crushed flowers, camphor, ice."
↑The Lighthouse, Fallen London"The lighthouse [...] would give light, but there is only darkness [...] It has no door, [...] It is not here. But still it flashes, [...]"
↑ 11.011.1Enter the lighthouse., Fallen London"No door [...] is uncovered [...] Yet here you are, climbing the seven thousand brick steps to the lighthouse's summit. Glyphs light the walls. This one means 'attention to a grand scheme'. [...] you reach the tower-top, the room of the lens and the Apparatus. His notes are here, scratched into oblong achondrites, charred into vacuum-kissed shape-leather, in a debased idiom of the Correspondence [...] Here he once stood, [...] to look out across his wounded realm. Or perhaps he only imagined it. Perhaps you only imagined it. [...]"
