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rhiannon_leeA slayer slept heavily. At times exhaustion was the culprit, but deep slumber was also the conduit for dreams, and all slayers did so in dark and vivid ways. One nighttime vision might serve a prophetic purpose, while another might be an exercise in improvisation, or a release of emotions kept close to the heart. Tonight, Rhiannon’s dream was something else entirely.
It was a conversation between souls, long acquainted with one another. Past incarnations of selves, alternate selves, selves yet to come – All three.
Rhiannon became aware of it as her feet traveled – one-two-three, one-two-three – in a waltz across a vast room. Windows stretched from ceiling to floor. The world beyond the glass was wintry white.
“I knew you seemed familiar.” Her fingers curled in his coat collar.
White tie, black jacket with tails. The pants properly hemmed, cuffs residing just over shined, black shoes. As far from his normal attire as could be imagined. But the hat was there; the hat was always there. It was one of two constants in his universe.
( Conversations in Sleep )
It was a conversation between souls, long acquainted with one another. Past incarnations of selves, alternate selves, selves yet to come – All three.
Rhiannon became aware of it as her feet traveled – one-two-three, one-two-three – in a waltz across a vast room. Windows stretched from ceiling to floor. The world beyond the glass was wintry white.
“I knew you seemed familiar.” Her fingers curled in his coat collar.
White tie, black jacket with tails. The pants properly hemmed, cuffs residing just over shined, black shoes. As far from his normal attire as could be imagined. But the hat was there; the hat was always there. It was one of two constants in his universe.
( Conversations in Sleep )