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

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