Once Dreaming. Now waking.
Or was I dreaming? Was it real?
Can a dream, dream?

Something laces itself between my thoughts. I don't feel it as much as sense it. It's there, like tiny crystals of frost on a web. I can't brush it aside, can't move to shake it away. My thoughts are turning cold, freezing slowly, tightening my mind. It hurts, it wrenches at my whole body, fading as it is. Like a clamp slowly tightening around my head, my chest, my heart, turning my veins to ice. I can't see any more, only a kaleidoscope of water slowly freezing around me fills what remaining vision I cling on to. Am I dying?

Dreams don't die, do they? Dreams live on like memories, as long as they are remembered. Will my dream be remembered? Will I remember? If I never existed, will my memory exist? Will the memory of the dream remain? How does a memory keep itself in one's thoughts?

I can't understand now, resigned to my fate as I was, I no longer have the power to accept this impossibility. Are dreams also destined? Was it my destiny that led the dream to fade, the dream to save the dreaming?

Was I that dream?

Was I the dream of Spira, the dream that would save the world from the nightmare that is Sin?

Was that my destiny?

My destiny lies here, in the cold waters of my mind. The ice creeps over my eyes, I fear to close them, but I cannot help as the crystals slowly fasten my eyelids shut, shutting out the light from the world my dream was realised.

Now, all I can see is the water, gently lapping at some unreachable shore. How I long to awaken from this cocoon of ice and emptiness, to be rid of these questions that are so quickly devoured by the cold crystals of destiny. My mind plays the silent waters on my fading senses, the cold, dark, yet blinding waters that burn.

I can hear whistling, like my soul escaping from my body, my soul. The soul of the dream that saved Spira. The whistling grows louder, it pains me, just like the webs of ice laced around my body and senses.

The dream has finally faded. The sound stops, and so do the beats of my heart. The beats of the dream that was formed from Spira's hope.

I am frozen, lifeless, non existent. Should I shatter, or simply be forgotten?

Dreams can fade, but we will always remember them.

Call upon my dream, and it will awaken.