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 obscured the same way our atmosphere obscures the light of distant stars.
“Did the king leave you here?”
“He did. He saved me from an obsidian castle.”
“How did you arrive at such a place?” She sits down next to me.
“I’m not sure.”
She nods and lets the silence rest a moment. “Such is the way with dreams. Wild and chaotic magic. Our dreams can be a buttress against great hardship, but they can also be the very storm that sweeps us into destruction.”
I sat a while and contemplated the effects of my dreams.