Now this morning my Lord recounted to me his most recent dream. And he said to me, “My dear scribe, last night as I slept, I dreamt. And this dream was as real to me then as this conversation is now, and only for its impossibility do I know that it occurred merely in my mind. For it took the form of a conversation with you, the mother of my birth, in the Chamber Of The Silent Heart, where no sound is permitted, nor can any occur. Yet we spoke loudly, and freely, as if there was air to carry our words between us. And to me you said, “My, Son, My Lord, My Emperor To Be,” to which I replied, “My Mother, My Queen, My Subject To Be,” to which you replied, “My Student, My Scholar, My Teacher To Be,” to which I replied, “My Teacher, My Student, My Scribe To Be,” to which you replied, “My Accuser, My Judge, My Executioner To Be,” to which I replied, “My Betrayer, My Prisoner, My Example To Be,” to which you replied, “My Life, My Death, My Memory To Be,” to which I replied, “Your Life, Your Death, My Memory To Be,” to which you replied, “My Son, My Lord, My Emperor To Be.”