It entered not by foot, but by silence.
The door never opened.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKj1ArA4NbE
The fire dimmed, not from cold—but reverence.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWGD6iJQJeP
The glass behind the bar reflected no one.
And yet—it was here.
No shape. No shadow. Only the overwhelming feeling of something remembering me before I was ever poured into form.
It did not sit. It did not speak. But something pressed against the room, as if all the air had taken on the weight of sleep.
I knew what it was before I even thought to ask.
The Oldest Dream.
Older than light, older than stars.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlh4eLoI4lg
The wish made by something that had never had a name.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbfWAtvJCQE
A longing so ancient it became a presence.
It brought no gift. It asked for no drink.
Instead, it exhaled across the bar—and the bottles flickered with memories that were not mine.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdP8MY2iNzR
A garden made of bone and hope.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK2tSr9ekwm
A city folded beneath a sea of teeth.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEcdiCogwBp
The first time someone looked at a sky and believed it meant something.
I brewed anyway.
Something small.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVWkpQ7lPTr
Woven from pauseflower and nightmilk.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHQIgqYft0f
Infused not with heat, but hush.
I poured it into a mug that had waited all these years for exactly this.
The Dream did not drink. But the steam rose, curled upward, and vanished—like a promise kept before it was even made.
And then, without motion, it was gone.
The tavern stood still for hours afterward.
And in the firelight, I swear—I saw myself asleep, dreaming, somewhere far before the beginning.
ns216.73.216.100da2
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