Into the Dreamscape

So I sat on a log among the hill folk, unsure if I were still among the land of dreams or not. A woman with skin the color of the deep blue, midnight sky approached. As she stepped through shifting moonlight, her arms and face scintillated as if she were

The Skeleton King stepped over stars and hopped over a beautiful, blue and orange nebula to set me down among the hill folk. “These folk can be trusted,” the king said. “You’ll be safe here.” He turned and prepared to leap into the cosmos once more, but before he

I sat in the hand of the Skeleton King as he carried me away from the castle. He oscillated between jovial and dejected. I suppose mood swings are to be expected when one has been dead long enough to become a monarch. “What were you doing in there?” The king

Something’s following me. It’s playing a game of cat and mouse. The dangerous thing — it knows it’s the cat. Wake up. Wake UP! No luck. My strides extend. Before I realize, I’m running down a hallway through shafts of icy moonlight. I should never have come

“I have a recurring dream of fear and rock and mist. Hallways that lead to nothing. I am in a large castle carved from obsidian. Crystalline tendrils simultaneously writhe and remain motionless on the ceiling as I walk the halls. I never start in the same place, yet always find