[ The ocean of flowers extends far into the vision of the dream, cerulean as the clearest of skies and melting seamlessly into the misty horizon. The flowers undulate gently in the breeze, and the ripple of their facets from lighter blues to deeper indigos create a mesmerizing, shifting blend colors, as if the entire plain is breathing with the wind.
It is beautiful.
And it is silent. Like falling snow at night, the flowers seem to mitigate most sounds.
no subject
It is beautiful.
And it is silent. Like falling snow at night, the flowers seem to mitigate most sounds.
So. This is the dream taking part of his history.
Somnus turns from the field. ]
It is doubtful your mother is here.