The Hundred And Fortieth Dream Of The Waiting Prince

Now this morning I told my Lord of last night’s dream. And I said to him, “My dear Lord, last night as you slept, I dreamt. And in this dream I saw the fruits all rotting upon the vines. And the grass beneath my feet writhed with the products of this putrefaction. And the harvest had been lost, and the summer had gone, and I was all alone, and all that was to come was the barrenness of this new and endless winter. And that was the full extent of the dream. A dream of wistful regret, of the pleasures of melancholy, of the necessity of death and decay.”

The Hundred And Thirty Ninth Dream Of The Waiting Prince

This morning I spoke to my Lord of my dream of the night before. And I said to him, “My dear Lord, last night as you slept, I dreamt. And in this dream I walked in solitude through the corridors of this High Palace, undisturbed in the silence here in its empty halls, above the clouds, above the sky, above the air we are supposed to breathe. And it was only because the dust of the world still clung to me that I knew I was dreaming.”

The Hundred And Thirty Seventh Dream Of The Waiting Prince

And this morning I told my Lord of my most recent dream. And I said to him, “My dear Lord, last night as you slept, I dreamt. And in this dream I watched the moons blaze bright throughout the night, while the sun all day was obscured by the clouds, as if it was a candle, shielded by some overprotective hands, to protect it from a breeze that might, at any moment, extinguish its delicate flame.”

The Hundred And Thirty Sixth Dream Of The Waiting Prince

Now this morning I told my Lord of my most recent dream. And I said to him, “My dear Lord, last night as you slept, I dreamt. And in this dream I saw above me a cloud. And this cloud was one not of water but of birds, and I could see so clearly that each dove was distinct from the rest, with desires of their own. Yet still I wished the cloud away, so the sun could shine upon one last time.”

The Hundred And Thirty Fifth Dream Of The Waiting Prince

Now this morning I spoke to my Lord, and told him of my dream of the night before. And to him I said, “My dear Lord, last night as you slept, I dreamt. And in this dream I repeated the litanies of remembrance, yet on each repetition another word was lost to me, until upon waking all I had left was a name without meaning. And soon even that was gone.”

The Hundred And Thirty First Dream Of The Waiting Prince

And this morning I told my Lord of my most recent dream. And I said to him, “My dear Lord, last night as you slept, I dreamt. And this dream was as real to me then as this conversation is to me now, for it was as contradictory and confusing as life itself. And this dream took the form of a conversation between myself and my son, on the balcony beyond the windows of the Hall Of The Unspoken Soul, where the air is formed from shards of ice, and each breath hurts like some fresh laceration of the heart. And to you I said, “My Son, My Lord, My Emperor That Was,” to which you replied, “My Mother, My Queen, My Betrayer That Was,” to which I replied, “My Betrayal, Your Salvation, Our Destiny That Passed,” to which he said, “My Betrayal, Your Salvation, Our Freedom From Fate,” to which I replied, “My Son, My Lord, My Emperor Once More.”