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Mar. 13th, 2011 03:58 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Time has little meaning here, though your body back home may disagree.
Dream.
A forest.
A forest of the oldest sort, thick with brambles, trees snarled with centuries of life. It stretches for miles, many of them very dark, because the trees grow so close that it is hard to see. From a high vantage point, on one of the hills of the forest, one may glimpse a tower at the heart of the forest, a great graceful column of grey stone. Here and there there are clearings, bright with sunlight, and streams running with clear water. But mostly there is dark.
In the distance, the howl of a wolf.
[OPEN TO ALL]
Dream.
A forest.
A forest of the oldest sort, thick with brambles, trees snarled with centuries of life. It stretches for miles, many of them very dark, because the trees grow so close that it is hard to see. From a high vantage point, on one of the hills of the forest, one may glimpse a tower at the heart of the forest, a great graceful column of grey stone. Here and there there are clearings, bright with sunlight, and streams running with clear water. But mostly there is dark.
In the distance, the howl of a wolf.
[OPEN TO ALL]