Dreams are good. Very good. . .

I lay on the ground. I had no power over anything in my body, save a few thoughts. The darkness loomed over me, pressing, filling me with pain. There are no words know that can express the feeling. The hood of my cloak blew against my cheek, pushed by an unknown wind. My soft pained breaths rang in my ears. Then I saw him, running to me, falling to his knees beside me. He gently laid his hands upon the spot where my neck and chest meet. I could feel my pulse, soft and cold. I watched his eyes, filled with a plea for strength to come fight the darkness, as a rare tear cut a path down his cheek. Then, I felt it. His hands had a warmth, the warmth of life. And a warmth grew in me. The weight of the darkness, the evil that bound me, began to subside to the warmth of life.

Yes. . . I told you I'd keep going. . . And I did