They always came quickly and fled his mind in the same manner. Regardless of his proficiency in the magic arts, he could never grasp them any longer than they wished to be viewed. He was completely at their whim.
At this point in his early adulthood he had hundreds of these visions to draw from and notes and research on many. Who, when, where. When he was young, he had dismissed the first several visions but finally one came that had elicited this...feeling...of strength. He was not unaccustomed to feeling powerful, of course, but this was such a pure strength he could not ignore the sensation. He had become intrigued; at his most obsessive he had actually almost dared to hope for something more from his princely - heh - from his mischievous, bitter life.
Almost.
Now and again they would come over his consciousness: a joyful smile, musical laughter; a face. A presence eliciting a feeling of strength, of security, of acceptance. Unwavering resolve in a pair of eyes that were not Asgardian. It was always the simplest, but most seemingly random series of triggers that brought these visions. He experienced them as if they were memories long forgotten, but he knew instinctively that they were not to pass for many years.
But now, that time was approaching. As much as he detested the idea of spending time in Midgard - again - and seeking out a lowly human, he was resolute. He would find her.