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Memory, prophecy and fantasy -
the past, the future and
the dreaming moment between -
are all in one country,
living one immortal day.
To know that is Wisdom
To use it is the Art.
Presidents, messiahs, shamans, popes, saints and lunatics had attempted - over the passage of a millennium - to buy, murder, drug and flagellate themselves into Quiddity. Almost to a one, they'd failed. The dream-sea had been more or less preserved, its existence an exquisite rumour, never proved, and all the more potent for that. The dominant species of the Cosm had kept what little sanity it possessed by visiting the sea in sleep, three times in a life span, and leaving it, always wanting more. That hunger had fuelled it. Made it ache; made it rage. Made it do good in the hope, often unconscious, of being granted more regular access. Made it do evil out of the idiot suspicion that it was conspired against by its enemies, who knew the secret but weren't telling. Made it create gods. Made it destroy gods.
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IF YOU GOT TRANCE IN YOUR PANTS WHIP IT OUT!!! IF NOT JUST WHIP IT OUT ANYWAY!!!
   
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