The Second Dream Of The Waiting Prince

And this morning my Lord recounted to me his dream of the night before, though of course this dream was one born of the turmoil of the day before, in which the events that occurred were numerous and unending, and so there should to this vision be ascribed no special meaning, for it has not derived its power from any meditation undertaken within these halls of solitude. So to me he said, “My dear scribe, last night as I slept, I dreamt. And this dream was as troubled as my sleep, for in it I was pursued by the waves of the Circular Sea, which rose and rose, no matter how high I ascended the stairs of the Endless Spire. And at each window a new wave broke against the walls, and burst into violent explosions of spray, which threatened to knock me from my feet, and sweep me down the steps back to where from I had come. And though I never fell, nor even stumbled, there was upon me a fear that soon I would, for surely I would tire soon, and the rising tide would then outpace me. Yet still I climbed, and in my exhaustion I woke long before I reached the top.”