The saddest kind of dreams are the ones in which you see yourself. The kind of dreams, not that you particularly like or dislike. But put you in situations where you can see that the person within the dream, the one you are watching from a third person perspective is yourself. But knowing at the same time that the actions that your dream self is performing. Are beyond impossible. Some dreams in this case of events are not sad, some people enjoy the impossible. Liking to flourish within the dreams. But Jack was not one of these people. In his life since the dawn, for that is when his memories begin .He had seen and done what many would have disregarded, put down as an impossible. But there were things that were beyond even Jacks abilities to comprehend or even achieve. Things that for some beings many have been considered relatviely easy. In his dream he saw himself as he was in the first year. It was. Strange. Watching himself curled up with that human. Those were cold days in the first few after thedawn. They had no shelter. No soft place to rest their head. Jack was more able than she for this task. But none the less, that was one of the reasons they had felt almost. Oblieged to stick with each other. In truth, Jack hadn't needed her. Looking back he knew that the time he'd spent should have been considerably shorter than it wwas. But still. Here it was. This forboding dream of things that he hated. Of the impossible. It made him sick as it played out before him. Curling up with her once more on stone floros. A viewing comentary of how hw wished he could take control of his dream persona and leave. To make it clear that he was as he was. And that it was not to be. But yet still the dream pressed on. it was. Cruel. And had he not known that this indeed was one of his few nightmares that occured regularly. Then he woud have attached this thing to the mechinations of a sloth demon, pushing him back into memory. Strange that this came rather than his wandering of the library. And yet perhaps he was in the library. Merely studying one of his own books. Waking eyes brought him three words. Young. Innocent. Foolish. A trimuvirate of ignorance. All things that would lead to safety. To experience. Gaining land had been tiring work and the seat of pride had never been wht you would call a comfrotable palce to rest your head. It had no beds, no grass no hay, nothing to soften the hard cold stone. Only this seat, itself stone. Hard. A represenation of this places metaphorical power. A place of fear. A seat of stone. Heart of stone. Hand raised to his face he looked at it with perplexion. Confusion. Before lowering it down. Silence resting over once again. Time to rise once more. Time to conquer again.
Three days break and he was back on the job. Persohally the break had been less about just sitting around and recovering his strength and more about watching the fear and sloth demons and their patrols. He had to say that theyw ere rather effective in what they did. Fear demons were constantly paranoid about attack and did most regular patrols. Whilst as expected Sloth made better static guards, sticking to the one spot and then obliterating anything that came close
EXP 664
Word Count:558/1000
