Great bursts of gleaming light shot from every direction like a thousand rays of sun.
A moment more, and it was gone.
Then came the dark—where I stayed.
It took me time to get used to the dim. An eon. By then, I had no memory of light.
And so, when I came upon it, I could not make heads or tales of the ball of gold that hid in the corner of the dream. I had to reach for it, take it in my hands. Yet as I did so, it slipped and dripped through my fingers.
On and on it went—this trying to hold it fast. But it would only move gently between the cracks and out the sides until all that was left was the dark, unsubtle as between twilight and the dawn.
And I was cold.
Not knowing how else to hold the light, I dripped it into my mouth. It tasted of honey. Warmth flooded me.
I doubled over, clutching at my belly in horror.
The ache would be the end of me.
All at once I cascaded to the ground, held my body curled tight, as the pain sawed within like a thousand tiny knives all desperately wanting to come forth at once.
But, then, I began to glow.
I could see it out my fingertips and through the whole of me. A fierce light. The whole of night was swallowed by how bright I had become.
I awoke only to find sunlight pouring in, a warm caress across my brow.
And so the dream had ended.