Dreams are a unique thing, everyone has them, and each dream is different. For me, the Dreaming means more. Every Dream has a meaning, every meaning a parable, and every parable a lesson. How can I begin to interpret dreams sometimes so abstract that the sheer preposterousness of them makes my simple head spin. Sometimes, I do not. Other times, I understand all too well what the Dreaming is showing me. Sometimes, I wish I could stand by and watch. But the Dreams, they draw me in. They tug at me like currents of an ocean, eddies of indigo sands with drifts of crimson and ivory sands mixing in swirling, whirling patterns. 

I am by no means an expert in the Dreaming, I am but a novice in such things. In time, perhaps, I will learn. And not all of the Dreaming takes place as I rest. Sometimes, standing still, I am gripped by Dreams and visions so striking that they affect my physical being. Drowning, I feel it. Asphyxiation, I feel it. It is a very nerve racking experience. How can I even begin to grasp what is happening? A simple person like myself. So here I will transcribe Dreams that have gripped me, and perhaps, in my mind, what they may mean.

 

My Dreams were not always clear, mostly, they were muted, sounds and colours. Sensations and emotions, but nothing clear. Nothing concise. The Dream I am about to write with this quill, on this battered piece of parchment, was the first of many. The one that started them all.

At first, it felt like I had awoken. I had gone to rest, like normal, like I do each and every time. And then I had awoken. It felt so very real. I was standing there, and the desert heat wrapped around my body. There was an unusual weight upon my person, that once closely inspected, revealed itself to be armour. Armour carved from ivory, a weight I am by no means used to. At first, I could not tell it was ivory, so caked in blood and gore was it. Crevices jammed with gore, dried and drying blood smeared about. In only a few places was the ivory shining through. I held out my hands, inspected them. My claws, as well, were caked with gore and viscera, my hands sticky from blood. I held no weapon, but that was no matter. This, I later gleaned, had meaning, though at the time it was no abnormal. A swelled with pride, a battle well done. Covered in the remains of my enemies, enemies I had slain with my hands. The pride of a job well done welled within me, and I burst out laughing. At the time, I did not note the hysteria. Now, looking back, I hear that laugh and I cringe. It did not sound like I should sound.

A good enough Dream, I would suppose. I looked up, before me lay a pile of bodies almost as high as myself. Some were dismembered, many were disembowelled. A few severed heads perched on precarious edges. The pride swelled more, I had done this. Me. I had taken down a legion of enemies. And then ... one of the corpses moved. It jerked, and tumbled down the pile. I had no choice but to take a closer look. It was none other than Sebitti Silkenhand, a woman I held in high regard and would never harm. She was as I had last seen her, pieced together with cloth and string. Blood leaking through bandages. As the corpse tumbled down, it split apart into many pieces. Mere cloth standing no chance against gravity and inertia. In pieces she tumbled, coming to rest at the bottom of the pile. The pride dwindeled into horror and pain, and I retched, dryly. Fearful of what I would see, but needing to know, I looked carefully at the pile of corpses. There lay my fathers, my uncle, my cousins. My mentors, my friends, everyone I held dear. At my feet.

In that moment I knew that I had slain them. In that moment I knew it was their blood, their viscera, that covered me. I doubled over, retching and sobbing. How? How had I done this? Why? What had caused this carnage? Had I gone insane? Tears streamed down my face, and I had to look at the pile once more. Knowing that it was my hand that had dealt those blows. Knowing that it was my fault they were dead. In that moment, I wished for nothing more than death. Final death. And I knew it was too good for me. I felt to my knees and cursed the Havens. I screamed until my throat was raw, and then I sobbed until I had no more tears. The Dream, it would not let me go until I had truly felt the depth of what it had to teach. The agony went on for what seemed forever, until I eventually awoke.

Oh, how that Dream had scared me. But I knew it had meaning, it felt too real to not be something meaningful. So I sat myself down and I reviewed it. As a Pyromancer, I deal deeply in the teachings of the Seven Sacred Pyres. If I were to attribute a Pyre to this dream, it would be Wrath. This Dream was a warning of what would come if I continued down my path of wrath and rage. Of bloodshed and seeking glory only in battle. The lack of weapon in my hands meant that even without strength, I could harm them. It scared me straight. I have not sworn off battle, but no means would I deny that part of my being. But, I have realized that peace does play a part in my life. Sebitti often told me to balance my passion with peace, and I think, maybe, that Dream was sent from her. That Dream was her last lesson to me, and I take it with grace.

 

A few weaves later came the second Dream. A Dream that lulled me into false security and threatened to drown me. This Dream, like all of them, was hyper-realistic. I could taste and smell.

I awoke to feeling weary and overwhelmed, as sometimes, I am. I was dracnari in this Dream, not unusual for me. I take quite a few forms regularly. So I found myself walking to my usual basking spot, that one sandy expanse above the Palace of Pleasure. A spot with fond memories. I lay myself down and basked, let the heat around and above me soak away my worries. The heat of the desert air, the desert sun beating down, oh, it felt glorious. It felt real. Everything just fell away, it was just me and the desert. Without realizing it, I began to sink into the sand. Slowly, the sands lapped against my form like water. Distantly, I heard voices calling my name, calling for me. But so relaxed was I, that I simply ignored them. 

The walls around me began to crumble, and I could not bring myself to care. People cried out, children sobbed, the world fell apart as I watched. I sunk deeper, enveloped in that heat and comfort. I no longer wanted to face my duties, my pledges to the world around me. Why should I care? I wasn't important. The walls of the city fell, from my vantage point, I watched my friends, my fellow citizens, perish by the dozens from some unseen force. I could not dredge up the bother to care. I sunk further into the sand, it began to reach my mouth. I could breath, all I inhaled was sand. It clogged my mouth, choked my lungs, stole the very air from my person. And yet, somehow, I could still see my city fall. She fell without grace, without resistance. And something in me told me I could stop that. I could prevent it. Only I could. But the sand, it had me in its grasp. I struggled, only succeeding in pulling me deeper. I sunk below the surface, knowing my inaction had caused Gaudiguch to fall.

The meaning of this one, I suppose, is a bit more clear. I will attribute this to Sloth, to inaction and wallowing in self pity. It spoke to me so deeply, because I have been guilty of such things. Of watching people struggle, knowing in my heart I could help them, and feeling like I just was not important enough to do so. That someone better, stronger, faster, would come along and help them. Often, that did not happen. And so I awoke with a new resolve. To do what I could, to help who I could, and combat the sloth within me. I would be full of action, full of determination, full of the knowledge that sometimes, I am important enough to help.

 

My third Dream was a bit more whimsical, I suppose. But still, it felt so very real.

I found myself in the merian village, staff in hand. Now, my favorite food is merian, of any type, so this was not unusual for me to hunt them to bring to a chef. Well, I hunted them. I hunt down to the very last child, they're all quite delicious. But this time, I was overloaded with corpses. Far too many to be normal, but I simply shrugged and trotted back to Gaudiguch, over-ladden with corpses. I swiftly dumped the corpses upon a chef, asking politely for them to cook the merian. I could not name the chef, I suppose it didn't much matter. I waited patiently as the chef cooked the merian and prepared it. Pies and sushi, my two favorites. Well, when the chef handed me the piles upon piles of merian dishes, a weird feeling came over me. I wanted nothing more than to eat all of the food myself, and not share. I quickly took off to a private place and proceeded to stuff my face full of merian. All of it. Dozens of dishes. Until I got so stuffed I felt ill. I looked down, and my stomach was clearly distended. I burped and sat there, unsure what was going on. My stomach rumbled and gurgled in displeasure, and I moaned alongside it. I awoke to still feeling quite nauseous, despite it only being a dream.

Although short and simple, it did bring to light something important. Clearly, this was Gluttony in action. I had never had an adverse reaction to eating too much food, but it could happen. Moderation is key, that is what I learned.

 

Not every Dream I have is attributed to the Pyres, some Dreams are just their own entities. And not all Dreams have a lesson to them. One such Dream I recall very vividly.

It had a very dream-like quality to it, I'll admit. It wasn't as realistic as the others, nor as psyche-shattering as some can be. This Dream, though, holds a special place in my heart. I awoke, mid-air, borne aloft by Benu, my faithful phoenix. We were hovering above Gaudiguch, surveying the city beneath us. Benu was splendid in his beauty, his multi-coloured feathers glistening in the early morning sun. Black flames wrapped around his magnificent form, wisping away in the wind the buffeted us. We hovered there for some time, my hands gripped in his feathers as handholds. Suddenly, Benu gave a loud caw, his black beak opening wide. He dove, without warning, or provocation from myself, and dropped in altitude so quickly it was all I could do to hold on.

He descended to a spot I have mentioned before in this writing, the basking spot above the Palace of Pleasure. But, the spot was not empty, as it usually is. Standing there, in all of her glory, was Sebitti Silkenhand. Whole. Complete. Healthy. Benu shook me from his back and pecked me hard against the ribs, nudging me forward. I looked about in confusion, unsure what was going on. Could she really be standing before me? I was terrified. What if she did not approve of my life choices? What if I had taken a wrong step somewhere? I turned to her and found I had no words. But I soon found no words were needed. She simply nodded at me and smiled, and then faded from sight. I was left with a warm feeling, a pleasant glow about myself. I rested my hand against Benu and just stood there, in awe.

All I can take from this Dream was that I am doing what she so laboriously taught me. What she instilled within my person so deeply, to deny it now would be to deny myself and my Will. Approval is what I gleaned from that Dream, approval I have always sought. 

 

These are just a few of the Dreams I have had, and continue to have. They bring me lessons and joy. The Dreaming is a strange and wondrous place, and also a dangerous place for the novices of such things. Of this I can only tell you, trust in your heart. Trust your Will. And above all, walk with Will.