They find me in my tent, tending a long, slow fire, dozing. "It's warm in here," the boy remarks. I glare up at him, but the whole world seems upside down. * Later, at dinner, the truth of my thoughts drifts back to me. "You look like you're very far away," the maester notes. "Not me," I say. "We're fine. It's the world that's gone." "Gone," he chuckles, his blue eyes twinkling. "Gone where?" "I don't know," I reply thoughtfully as I push the grey meat around my plate. "But I know we're dreaming." I look up at him to pierce him with the accusation. He seems shocked. Whether it's because I found out his secret or because he doesn't know himself, I don't know. But I will. I go back to mopping up bloody gravy with mashed potato. He goes back to pretending I'm a silly little girl.
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Dean's Dream Journal
I'm often inspired by dreams. "How to Remember Your Dreams" will help you with:
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