Upon the first listens, the similarities and differences to Nightbringer are easily apparent. The most obvious similarity is in the guitar work, which has a similar, sharp tone to Ego Dominus Tuus’ dissonant leads. But where Ego Dominus Tuus’ dissonant guitar work served to accentuate the air of horror and unease built over the massive rhythm guitars, the guitars on The Dreaming I have a much more prominent role. The huge swathes of rhythm guitar are largely absent, and the meat of the tracks is mostly comprised of the leads and synths, with Alcameth’s vocals bubbling up from the sonic abyss. I find the album cover particularly well suited in this regard, as the way the face leans out from the putrid, noxious tendrils of smoke is exactly like how the vocals are presented. Deeper in tone that on Ego Dominus Tuus, the vocals seem birthed from the void, carried by a demonic apparition to corrupt and entice. 

Another parallel to Nightbringer is the use of ambience. The synths make up a good deal of the album’s sonic structure, giving the album a malignant atmosphere of unspeakable horror and sickening decay. On Ego Dominus Tuus there were moments of ambience as well as two ambient track, and this album has its share as well. But the difference ends there. In Nightbringer, the ambience almost seems like the calm before the storm – a brief but uneasy respite from the righteous fury brought to bear. But on The Dreaming, the ambient is the storm in a way. Dense and chaotic, this is the stuff of nightmares, not dreams. The most vivid moment on this album is ambient work on “Consumption”, in which thick, rumbling walls of noise give way to deranged, nightmarish shrieks.

While there are musical and structural similarities to Nightbringer, there is an enormous difference in terms of atmosphere and overall composition. In my review of Ego Dominus Tuus, I spoke of how Naas Alcameth’s comparison to the building of a cathedral fit the music perfectly. The massive, all-encompassing size of the album was as brilliant and awe inspiring as the Kölner Dom, and there was a pervading air of reverence and majesty to the music, as if it were the truest form of worship. The Dreaming I does have some of that majesty, but only because there’s something so grand about the sense of horror the album instills. Another difference is where Ego Dominus Tuus was a monumental statement, that seemed to contain itself and reoccurring threads found themselves woven together, the structure of The Dreaming I is more linear in nature. Like a story with a clear beginning, middle, and end, there is an inexorable progression towards damnation, one that is readily foreseeable. The repetition of riffs and patterns give the album a trancelike feeling, and the space like synths make it feel like you are tumbling through both time and space.

One can speak of all the similarities and differences he wants, but ultimately this is an album meant to be experienced on your own terms. Both timeless yet ancient, this album runs past your conscious like the blink of an eye, stretched on for eternity. While there are obvious similarities between Akhlys and Nightbringer, there are enough differences to keep the two’s existence wholly justified. The atmosphere brought about by this album is one touched on too rarely, and once more we are given a glimpse by Naas Alcameth. A journey inspired by one man’s subconscious, The Dreaming I is a dark, engaging, and multifaceted work, one that deserves and demands multiple serious listening sessions to begin to peel apart its complexities. While I feel that last year’s Ego Dominus Tuus was slightly stronger, this album is a potent and engaging piece of black art, and yet another masterful creation from America’s darkest mind.