As the priest sleeps on his dull and lifeless bed amongst the remnants of a sick past his soul grants his prayer. The memories of his past are washed away leaving only stains. The stars send him a dream, too. A premonition that will shape all that is to come. He dreams of a man asleep ‘twixt two trees and of an indescribable music. But his focus is on the man. He sees his dreams.
And just as tadpoles dreams of frogs, the man sleeps and dreams of gods.
Author notes
This story had been on here for a while but no one seems to have read it. Installments! That's the answer!
Adding your comment: