The silence of night is awakening. It awakens the pagan in me, it rushes me like the wind on a star-filled, moonlit night and I am flying. The realm of darkness and dreams and whimsy speaks to me here. The world of the dreaming and its inhabitants call me, they beckon me inward to the state where we are spirits dancing within visions. Here it is lucid, and lovely. The dreamscape is my room in the house of my night. Auntie Moon is there and my cousins the stars. In the underground of consciousness, I dwell, I am. I am the blanket of stars, I am the light of the moon, I am the pervading, dancing shadow on the outskirts of perception, I am the inner light keeping fear at bay within this carnival of dream and sleep. The waters are silent but stirring as we sleep, as we dream and I am its darkness, the darkness of slumber and dream visions and night images. I am that which is unseen in the dead of the night, but you know is there, silent, and seeing you.
Brightly-spun blessings,
Wonder-woven love,
Lady Faemore
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