The Runic Template

When the Dream Ain’t Yours

In slumber, a soul took its rest,

No thought of a perilous test.

But a hum, deep and low,

Made the dream-current flow,

From a sleep that felt subtly possessed.

A strange grove, unseen by the sun,

In the mind, its dark magic begun.

A nightmare, so real,

Made the world gently reel,

As its silent allure had been spun.

No choice did the waking self claim,

As a pull, past all reason or name,

To a Rift, drawing near,

Dispelled every fear,

For the dream held its unyielding aim.

Through fragments of tales, now undone,

Where pasts on the dark ground were strewn,

The Chasm’s harsh might,

Claimed all narrative’s light,

‘Til the dream’s truth was startlingly won.