Now this morning my Lord spoke to me, and recounted softly his dream of the night before. And he said to me, “My dear scribe, last night as I slept, I dreamt. And I was naked, and alone, as I washed away my sins in the Lake Of Thought, beneath the Glass Tower, beneath the First Moon, beneath the Second Sun, beneath the Third Eye, beneath the Fourth Wheel, beneath the Fifth Arm, beneath the Sixth Spiral, beneath the Seventh Shell, beneath the Eight Emptiness, beneath the Ninth Vein. And into this sacred chamber came the Lady Of The Silver Hair, clad only in a robe of silk, the colour of blood, the colour of dusk, the colour of winter berries, the colour of sand, the colour of spring blossom, the colour of wine, the colour of death, the colour of life, the colour of the oldest sun, the colour of the newest star, the colour of her lips, the colour of her tongue, the colour of her searing eyes, the colour of her aborted child, the colour of her robe of silk. And as she stepped into the bathing pool to join me, she dissolved, step by step, until all that was left of her was that robe itself, floating towards me, arms outstretched, across the still waters of the pool.”