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.”