This is the dream of Blacksword, of Ozzy Fudd
This is the dream of Damon Maker, of Lord Dasher
This is the dream of Klew Merauw, of Pterry Lightfoot
This is the dream of Wedge, of Khansman, of Nemesis in Novus Mundi
This is the dream of San Diego Lightfoot Sue, of Dreadfiend,
of Speaker, of Marlinane Valentine al-Thor, of Bridgitte
This is the dream of Greyleaf
This is the Dream of Blood

You are the Blood Phoenix walking under a night sky, from the Watersea across an endless plain. The Constellations are different from the ones Blacksword learned as a child. All of the stars are present and accounted for; the stars just seem wrong...out of place. A cold wind blows. The only sound is your footsteps matching those of your companions.

One nearby companion smokes a cigarette. She is phoenician elf, or perhaps a grey elf servant of Blood. This female is a Nightmare of one who has been stolen from you: her original dream met the real death from the Morganti Weapon named Shadowdancer. You know that her terminated dream is named Margeaux Escargot; this Nightmare must be Kiera. She is a faithful servant of Blood. She should not be smoking; it is bad for her health. You must look for the opportunity to tell her so.

Kiera holds in her hand the taloned claw of her nearest companion, another smoker. He is like you: once a Host for Blood. He is unlike you: once was Host for Dust. This Smoker has been morganti'd by the weapon Sword of Kazz, but Kazzintruitabemms did not do this black deed. The taloned man is not quite totally present, a pale reflection of his former self. He has been reborn Seth, named and loved by his raped Mother, but you know him by the name Dira. He is hard to look upon without weeping. He offers no opportunities for comfort.

Your third companion is the current Host for Blood. He has never met or dealt the Real Death, of course. He has four arms. He is the current Host for Blood. You have been given permisison to know this Host by the name Roland. Roland the heteric, betrayer of Troy, now forever walking a step behind the Mother of Knives, your lover. Roland leads you across the plains, you and the others, always a step behind. Roland is the leader, of course. Roland is why you are here. Roland leads from one step behind. He is not afraid. Roland is the Host for Blood, and it is now time for His Second Move. He has given you the opportunity to assist and be remembered for aiding Him in this Second Move.

You look at this fourth companion, and sometimes you see a blonde woman, walking in the form of faerie, or else she flies overhead on silver dragon wings. This is the Maker of Real Death. She is Morgan la Faye, the soul who brought Real Death to the Worlds. She is your hated nemesis. She is your beloved great grand-daughter. She once turned aside the Real Death of Angalchel and was buried under this black sky near to this path, buried with the powerful hands of your son's son, her father. She has been wronged by your powerful hands, but you do not remember the whys or hows or wherefores of it. You have treated her unjustly, unforgivably. You don't remember. You . . . killed her? The God of Life...killed her? You don't remember, must not. You do remember she owes you retribution. She has taken no revenge. You resolve to face her and accept her vengeance, resigned to accept whatever form it takes. She will watch for the opportunity. You need not.

Roland is emptyhanded. Each of the four companions of Blood wields a heavy burden. There is a bowl, a spear, a sword, and a stone. The burdens are the heaviest weight you have ever carried. The companions feel the same way. Much joking is made as the walk continues into the night. When the burdens get too heavy, you four transfer the burdens between yourselves. For a time, each new burden is easier to bear, but presently even the new burden weighs on you like the weight of a world. You are reminded of the weight of Flambeau, of the weight of the Fountains, of the weight of Novus Mundi. These worlds weigh as much as the ones you know.

Of all the companions, and of all the burdens, only you discover that the stone is not at all heavy. The companions look at you with envy, and the joking stops for a time. You wish to keep this stone, to carry it until your destination. However, Roland looks at you severely when the others presently hand off, so you reluctantly trade when the time arrives.

Presently, the four of you have carried the burdens to your limits of endurance. Each of you has wielded all the burdens: sword, spear, stone and bowl. There is no one to trade with who doesn't already know the burden you have. Roland smiles, and you all look away from him then.

In the west, you see a castle. Roland stands by your side and whispers into your ear, "You must take your burden and lay it down there, before you can rest." He invites you afterwards to join him for a camp fire and a dance at the standing stones here at the crossroads. Your companions set off wearily to take your burdens to other compass points. You measure the distance to the dark spot on the western horizon and sigh.

With your first step, you regain control of your dream.