the artistry and psychology of gaming


Sweets Mountain (Super Mario World: The Lost Adventure: Episode 2)

Sweets Mountain (Super Mario World: The Lost Adventure: Episode 2)

I have had a number of dreams of Dinosaur Land, an island on the same planet as the Mushroom Kingdom. A great number of these dreams were effectively compilations of many other adventures of mine, but felt like romps through Dinosaur Land, as strange as that may sound. Today, I’m going to talk about dream that was part of a pair of dreams, which may have taken place in some sort of alternate universe. There were a great many wonders, both old and new, in these dreams. The most remarkable part of both of them, however, was a rift in space and time, which brought not only old memories, but also adventures too bizarre to explain.

In this rift, I encountered marathons through brand new areas that were modeled after other Mushroom Kingdom adventures, both old and new. I even encountered an area that was filled with Microsoft Windows logos, and had scroll bars upon which I could stand. The most beautiful of these oddities, however, was Sweets Mountain. Sweets Mountain is exactly what it sounds like: a mountain covered in cookies, candy, and ice cream. Though this may seem like any ordinary cliche of a child’s dreams or fantasies, it was a fairly unique experience.

When I entered, I stared into the distance for a while. Though it was inexplicable, I saw an endless ocean of sweet looking goop; presumably ice cream. In it were candy canes and what appeared to be flower pots with orange slices and other goodies inside of them. The ground beneath me was made of cookies, and was covered in chocolate grass, though before me was another area with strawberry grass. Nearby was a big chocolate bush with berries of unusual flavor. One was brown with beige spots, which tasted like a malted milk ball; the other was pink with orange spots, and had an indescribable fruity flavor. After munching on the scenery for a bit, I made my way onward.

After a short time, I came to a river of cola, which cascaded into nothingness below. Caffeine, which I avoid like the plague, absorbs through your skin, so I approached hesitantly, but since this was just a dream, it didn’t affect me. Not having to worry about avoiding it anymore, I swam through, taking the occasional sips; oh, how I’d missed the taste. Not long afterward, I came to a pond filled with fresh milk, which I used to wash some of the excessive sweetness from the inside of my mouth. Climbing out, I sighed at what was before me, but it was a good sigh; a happy problem.

A new type of grass – my new favorite – covered the ground before me: vanilla grass. Pipes came out above and below me, containing a never-ending flow of cola between them. I slipped through the flow, making my way to a pond of liquid chocolate. The strange thing about this pond is that the surface wasn’t the only thing touching the air; the bottom was, as well. I swam upward through this floating chocolate pond, making my way to higher ground.

Up here, I passed chunks of land with grass of all three of the aforementioned flavors, as well as a few cascades of a sweet vanilla liquid. There were also chocolate marshmallow blocks with music notes upon them that sprung me into the air when I stepped on them. Being a fan of neither chocolate nor marshmallow, I skipped eating them, and dealt with repeatedly slamming my head into the hard cookie ceiling above me. After quite some time on these improvised springboards, I came to a series of pipes, pouring both cola and the vanilla liquid in ribbons. I swam through to the other side, combining the flavors in my mouth.

I came to a mountainous area that seemed difficult to climb, which was a problem, since the only way to go was up. I resorted to swimming up a waterfall of cola, which was certainly no easy task. Once I made my way to the top, I saw a curious structure: upon a long stretch of strawberry grass was a pair of small yellow pipes, wedged in between which was a chunk of cookie surrounded in chocolate grass. Not knowing what to make of it or just how it was suspended in midair like that, I carried on. After some more climbing, passing by another chocolate bush with berries, I came to what may have been the most beautiful part of the dream.

The land before me was layered, and striped with each of the three flavors of grass. There was a deep shaft in the middle that was filled with milk, which was a pocket in the air, just like the floating chocolate pond I’d encountered earlier. Past that was a path that zigzagged upward, which had a waterfall of cola, and another of vanilla flowing down through it. Occasionally, it ran through some small, chocolate colored pipes. I made my way back and forth, swimming up the cascades to reach ever higher as I went. Eventually, I reached the goal post, which had an unusual coloration. One of the pillars was appropriately brown with brown stripes, giving it a chocolate appearance. The other, however, was orange with strawberry pink stripes, giving it an odd aesthetic. It seems that for some reason, the posts shared their coloration with the berries on the large bushes. Nonetheless, I passed through this anomaly in space and time.

The idea of an edible landscape seems completely absurd to us, but perhaps it is not as crazy as it seems. While the idea of eating grass and dirt is not something that people usually do, we are far from the only species in this world. Grass may not be as much a treat to a cow as cake is to us, but it most certainly is edible. The same goes for worms and dirt, certain insects and trees, and the list goes on. So really, was this a dream about a childhood fantasy of a land made of sweets, or a leap into the perspective of a herbivore put into a context to which I can relate? No one can ever really know for sure; such is the nature of dreams.

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