| Author: | Terry Richardson | ISBN: | 9781311675842 |
| Publisher: | Terry Richardson | Publication: | July 11, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | Terry Richardson |
| ISBN: | 9781311675842 |
| Publisher: | Terry Richardson |
| Publication: | July 11, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
He's in the dream and wants to wake up, but when he does he has this giant wolf inside him, and he jumps off the front porch into the yard and tries to roll it away, but it won't go. It's rapidly taking over and he is growling and he feels his tailbone begin to extend until there is this long beating thing behind him. His eyes have rays that spread from pupil into the iris. Their sometimes called flashes, and is a sign of psychic powers. That is why the color of them cast off a golden hue.
He turned his head this way and that as the Wolf Dream began, and the air was full of scents he was starting to recognize. He opened his mouth and his tongue came out, as he started panting. He opened his eyes wide, and then howled as the dreamspike built to finish the Wolf Dream. He was coming into the Wolf Dream too strongly; to try to control this spike was like trying to contain the wolf from coming out. He could only control his thoughts of the real world, keeping him from entering the Wolf Dream too quickly. Step by step he learned balance; wolf whenever the wolf was needed and the man whenever the man was needed. He let himself be drawn into the dream.
Blade was quick to learn, and having been the one who created the Dream Gate gave him the advantage. Where would this path of understanding lead? He moved awkwardly toward the shelter of the forest. If he is apprehensive or disrupted by an enemy, he will kill. He is the master of the Wolf Dream.
So those are the details, the facts. That is how the story ends. But the story never ends, does it? History- the rolling waves of thunder of incidence after incidence, propelled by lightening currents of chance and luck and coincidence- streams right along with no regard for beginning or endings. The only true end is the present moment, the seething forward edge of the wave. So let me bring you right up to the present. As I write this, the story must be told exactly as it unfolds.
He's in the dream and wants to wake up, but when he does he has this giant wolf inside him, and he jumps off the front porch into the yard and tries to roll it away, but it won't go. It's rapidly taking over and he is growling and he feels his tailbone begin to extend until there is this long beating thing behind him. His eyes have rays that spread from pupil into the iris. Their sometimes called flashes, and is a sign of psychic powers. That is why the color of them cast off a golden hue.
He turned his head this way and that as the Wolf Dream began, and the air was full of scents he was starting to recognize. He opened his mouth and his tongue came out, as he started panting. He opened his eyes wide, and then howled as the dreamspike built to finish the Wolf Dream. He was coming into the Wolf Dream too strongly; to try to control this spike was like trying to contain the wolf from coming out. He could only control his thoughts of the real world, keeping him from entering the Wolf Dream too quickly. Step by step he learned balance; wolf whenever the wolf was needed and the man whenever the man was needed. He let himself be drawn into the dream.
Blade was quick to learn, and having been the one who created the Dream Gate gave him the advantage. Where would this path of understanding lead? He moved awkwardly toward the shelter of the forest. If he is apprehensive or disrupted by an enemy, he will kill. He is the master of the Wolf Dream.
So those are the details, the facts. That is how the story ends. But the story never ends, does it? History- the rolling waves of thunder of incidence after incidence, propelled by lightening currents of chance and luck and coincidence- streams right along with no regard for beginning or endings. The only true end is the present moment, the seething forward edge of the wave. So let me bring you right up to the present. As I write this, the story must be told exactly as it unfolds.
