Slurry

The Quondamarie is pure potential energy: formless, inchoate, ambiguous. Structures and minds with enough conceptual mass to withstand the Quondamaric forces (such as the Connodoi and certain demi-planes) are specks of relative permanence drifting within the infinite ephemerality.   When Quandamaric waves wash against these pockets of solidity, the states of being merge at the edges, like the mud on a lakeshore where water and earth come together. The stable reality breaks down along these perimeters, washed away in the passing currents, while the waves of pure potentiality begin to collapse and adapt to the predominant paradigm.   This muck is the Slurry.   It’s not quite manifest and it’s not entirely amorphous and it’s often full of bits and chunks and drabbles of ideas that have been floating around since Purideas-know-when.   Travelers in the Quondamarie must watch out for these barnacle-like gobbets of slurry that can glom onto their manifested bodies, minds, and any other established "real stuff" they happen to have.   "Dredging the Slurry" is a popular hobby (and, for some, a livelihood) in the Gri’x. Hopeful treasure-hunters can often be seen slogging up and down the edges, looking for drifting trinkets and ideas devoid of context.   If you’ve ever set something down and then never saw it again, or had a thought simply disappear from your mind, it probably got washed away and is now floating around in the Slurry at the edge of your dimension...or perhaps it’s long gone by now, and someone else on some other plane will come across it some day, and they'll wonder where the hell that came from.