In my dream, I see a square tower, corbeled and crenelated like the fortresses of old, suspended in the infinite void. It is the only solid amidst a fluid darkness, yet it is somehow still darker than that, as if hewn from blackest obsidian. In the nearest corner, a figure stands upon the parapets. I can see that it is a figure, yet I can see nothing else; they are radiant and made of white light. Nothing stands against the glow, and the tower with its surroundings are all the darker for the painful radiance.

I do not know what it means, but I do know that each night the tower is closer and more distinct, while the figure is brighter and more difficult to perceive.

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