Storytellers say to never start a story with a dream. It’s bad form. Cliché. A bait and switch for the audience.
But, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Because my story starts with a dream. Or well, the important part of my story does. It even has this fancy bit of glowy void and all, just like you’d imagine a dream would have.
Of course, I have a story before this story, but none of it’s all that interesting. It must not be, cuz I don’t rightly remember it. Maybe one day I’ll fill in the blanks to my past, but today’s not that day.
Let’s just start with this dream.
Visions and dreams are things not unknown to me. Sometimes I see things about people. But, I mostly keep what I see to myself. I’ve learned people don’t like when you peek into their past, even if you can’t control the things you see about them.
But this dream wasn’t about someone else. It was about me.
I can’t rightly describe it. It was one of those weird shifty dreams, but it felt so real, I could almost smell the magic of this void.
There was a voice that spoke to me. It was reassuring. Powerful. It urged me to look into myself.
To seek the truth.
That’s when the darkness came.
This robed figure. I don’t know what it was, but it didn’t feel like a person. It left all my fur standing on end.
It gathered energy within itself. I sensed a terrible, dark destruction.
About that time, I’d normally be high-tailing it out of there. But in my dream, something happened to me. I transformed into something.
Something strong enough to face this darkness.
And just as things were getting good….
…of course I had to wake up.
That’s life, I guess.