I had the strangest dream last night..
It was a recollection of something that had happened to me in my younger years. I was in the forest with a newfound group of friends, when an enemy attacked. I was told by a draconic mage to stay in wait, that these adversaries belonged to him, were his prey. And as I crouched along a tree branch, the world just.. left.
Strangely enough, I was not out on the branch from which I had observed the confrontation between the soldiers and my new acquaintances. In fact, I lifted my head to find that I had no idea where I had arrived. My mind had somehow escaped reality, and my body apparently followed along. Sitting up, I found myself staring off into what mortals would describe as a frozen wasteland. However, as an icy wind brushed my hair from my eyes, my heart lept in sudden joy. "Beautiful.." I whispered. And indeed, it was.
Getting to my feet, I turned slowly, taking in my surroundings. Mound upon mound, mile upon mile of glistening snow. A dark stream cut its way through the frosted landscape, dotted here and there with slow-moving ice floes. I slowly closed my eyes, another breeze seeming to wrap its way around my form. It was.. comforting.. like the kiss of a long-lost love. Again, my eyes opened. This time I found myself standing atop a sheer cliff. Off in the distance, a single sculpture of a rose wound its way up from the ground. Blinking in awe, I was suddenly before it, staring up at the massive work of art. It was not just a sculpture.. but a tower! And those cold winds, those flakes of snow.. they were living creatures. "What is this place," I asked aloud, my voice soft and reverent.
Deep within, a little known voice answered my query. "Home, Donatien.. home." I hadn't been called that name in ages. I felt my body begin to melt away, my corporeal form shattering into another icy breeze along the tundra.
With a sudden start, and a gasp for air, I found myself in a clearing, lying upon the forest floor as I had apparently returned to the physical world. It was a bit unnerving, and so I grew angry. I could find no sign of a spell, no poison that would cause such an hallucination. Aloud, I demanded to know what trickery it was.. but of course, no answer came.
Strange, isn't it, how dreams flash your life before your eyes during, or soon after fleeing the grasp of death? I long so very much to return to that place. If this was my heaven, I almost wish that Caelan had finished the job..
Donatien Delacroix Community Member 
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