A Dream of Dragons

In this fantasy sleep story, you are the lost heir to a powerful kingdom. You and your bonded dragon, Night, have hidden away in a remote mountain range as you ponder whether and how to claim your throne. As your connection to the dragon deepens, you discover that you have a psychic bond stronger than either of you knew.

Paired with a fire magic meditation for sleep.

Music/Sound: A Glimpse of Avalon by Flouw, Cosmic Dreams by Bruce Brus, Epidemic Sound

Transcript

Form a psychic bond with a dragon in tonight's fantasy bedtime story.

Sleep and Sorcery is a folklore and fantasy inspired sleep series.

My name is Laurel and I'll be your guide on tonight's fantastical journey.

Sleep and Sorcery is one part bedtime story,

One part guided meditation,

And one part dreamy adventure.

If you're still awake as the story comes to a close,

I'll guide you through a gentle meditation.

For connecting with intuition.

Tonight's story is a follow up to season 2's The Dragon Rider,

But you don't need to have heard that story to enjoy this one.

Tonight you are the lost heir to a powerful kingdom.

You and your bonded dragon,

Night,

Have hidden away in a remote mountain range as you ponder whether and how to claim your throne.

As your connection to the dragon deepens,

You discover that you have a psychic bond stronger than either of you knew.

With practice,

You find you are able to fully inhabit her mind,

Seeing through her eyes,

And even flying on her wings.

An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet,

Regardless of time,

Place or circumstance.

The thread may stretch or tangle,

But will never break.

Chinese proverb.

You awaken to the tingly scents of tamarack and pine,

Loftily penetrating the chilly air.

You pull the blankets closer around you to ward off the damp,

Dewy morning.

Slate gray early morning sun slices through the opening to the shallow cave you've called home for these several nights.

For once you doubted you'd find comfort or rest,

But have instead slept the deepest slumbers of your life.

Oh,

And what extraordinary dreams you've dreamt in this place.

How vast and deep the worlds you've plumbed in that rich sleep.

Some nights you've seemed to travel on Night's wings throughout her midnight hunt,

The moon on your scales.

Some nights you've sailed on distant seas,

Whipped by waves unending.

You shut your eyes tight now,

Holding fast to the details of the particularly vivid dream from which you've just awoken.

In the dream you were lost in a strange and enchanted wood in the deep of night.

It seemed to you that it sparkled with threads of magic,

And that each time you turned to look closely at the threads,

They vanished in a kind of coy dance.

And through the trees in time there was a bright burning light,

Like constant fire,

And you drew toward the light with your sword drawn and your mind sharp,

Ready to defend yourself.

You came to the source of the light,

A small clearing,

Where the sun was shining bright as midday,

Although the woods around you still slumbered under a midnight moon.

And there in the clearing you saw a struggle underway between a dragon and a lion.

At first you only watched as they fought with fire and claw and tooth and tail.

But when you realized that the dragon,

The magnificent dragon,

Was losing to the lion,

You felt compelled to leap to its defense.

Your sword sang as it slashed through the air and it cleaved the lion's tail in two.

There was a flash of golden humming light which for a moment nearly blinded you.

But as you squinted through the daze you thought you could see,

Standing behind the lion,

Another you,

A reflection cast by some unseen mirror,

Ringed in light and bearing a sword,

Very like yours,

But not the same.

This other you fell to kneel beside the wounded lion and stroked its mane and uttered words of comfort.

But it was when you turned in the dream to tend to the dragon that you awoke.

Now as you try in vain to return your body and mind to its sleepy state,

There comes on the breeze a great thundering whoosh,

The sound of wings.

It's as if she knows you're awake.

Then you emerge from the small cave,

Cloak draped around your shoulders and breath misty on the air.

She's perched precipitously upon the jutting rocks,

Eyes bright.

The marvelous dragon,

Knight by name,

All but gleams in the dull morning sun,

Her crimson scales more lustrous than ever before.

Fresh air and freedom have done her good.

When you found her,

She was chained up,

Deep in the caverns of Mount Arden,

Thin and in poor health.

If she looked beautiful to you then,

She is divine now.

Though you've traveled together for mere weeks,

Soaring over vast oceans and mountain peaks,

You and the dragon have a fierce bond,

Forged in infancy.

Just over a year ago,

You learned a secret that transformed your life.

That you were not,

As you had always believed,

The child of a farming family,

But the lost heir to the throne of the kingdom.

You were spirited away when a rebellion deposed the king and hidden in the home of a loving family who raised you far from the burdens of your royal destiny.

On your journey to discover who you truly are,

You sought out the fearsome dragon of Mount Arden.

When,

However,

You arrived,

The truth unfolded.

Fate was not a foe to be vanquished,

But a friend,

An ally with a shared history.

You learned that she hatched from her egg on the day you were born,

That you and she were bonded from birth and meant to grow up together.

Dragons were the symbol of your royal house,

And the auspices declared your fates were intertwined.

But this bond,

This kinship was cut short in the turmoil that followed.

You and night were separated and the kingdom torn asunder.

You have to believe that something greater than coincidence or chance brought you back together.

For the last year since you learned of your true heritage,

You've often felt like a bead of dew sliding along the strings of fate,

Inevitably sliding toward night,

The oldest friend you can't remember,

And perhaps also toward your inheritance,

The throne.

Perhaps is a word you've used many times since your reunion,

For the closer you've come to grasping that inheritance,

The more uncertain you've become.

Do you really have the ambition to take the throne and lead a kingdom?

Do you have what it takes,

Dragons or not,

To challenge the King Regent,

Knowing it might lead to open war?

Are you ready to consign your dragon,

So long locked away in chains,

To the limitations of courtly existence,

When she's only just tasted freedom?

So,

Hidden since birth,

Even without knowing it,

You suppose you are now in a kind of self-imposed hiding while you determine your next move.

Exile might be a better word for it.

Exile conjures up noble associations,

While hiding sounds sheepish and undignified.

But ah,

There's more to this withdrawal from civilization than mere avoidance.

Here among the pines,

The rocky cliffs and mountains,

You've found a connection to the earth,

A freshness in the wind,

And a purity of energy you could hardly have anticipated.

You have half a mind to remain here,

Dreaming your vastly dreams,

Letting night hunt,

Unfettered,

Forever.

Her voice,

With the merest suggestion of reptilian growl,

Cuts through the jumbled discord of your thoughts with the most simple,

Welcome invitation.

Hungry.

Your stomach answers with a hearty growl.

And so you set about preparing breakfast from what night has brought.

These forested mounts have proven fecund and fruitful,

With wild game aplenty,

And flowering plants to provide ample nourishment.

Soon after,

Bellies full and minds the clearer for it,

You and the splendid dragon survey this,

Your kingdom for the time being.

This remote,

Unpopulated,

And yet breathtaking region,

Where wild things grow,

Knowing nothing of the doings at court.

Your hair,

Which grows long after months of aimless travel,

Is tied atop your head,

And the breeze plays across your cheeks with a whisper of winter.

It comes quickly,

This high among the clouds.

Should you climb or fly to the summit,

Surely even now you'd find flurries of snow,

Which those in the capital won't see for months yet.

Out across land and sea,

You fix your gaze upon the sparkling horizon.

And there,

Or even just beyond,

You glimpse a faint and unsteady sparkle.

Is it,

You wonder,

The glimmer of that distant kingdom,

The one over which you should rightly reign?

You've never beheld the castle or the keep.

You know nothing of the people who live within its walls.

And yet,

Somewhere in the recesses of your mind,

You trace a map of its magnificent halls and alleys.

There is a future,

A life,

Upon that horizon,

Which was taken from you.

You're thinking about the castle again,

Says the dragon at your side,

Her voice calm and comforting.

You let go a deep exhale.

There are no secrets you've learned from her.

It's as if she can see inside your mind.

In the time you've been together,

You've learned to accept this,

Or at least not to let it concern you.

There's something reassuring,

Even,

To have another being affirm your deepest thoughts and desires,

Reflect them back to you like a mirror,

And help you carve a path forward.

It's a lovely morning,

You say,

Unprepared to engage with questions of the throne.

You know little of this country,

In the mountains of which you've made your camp.

The nearest inhabited village is miles below and beyond.

You needed a place where night could hunt and fly without being constantly sighted.

Of course,

Given her size,

There's a certain risk of that that's unavoidable.

It brings a smile to your lips to think of children in that far-off village,

Glimpsing the winged wonder at dusk,

And how the vision might set their hearts alight as it did yours.

It's been so long since dragons were seen on these shores.

But it's more than just the seclusion that brought you to this region.

There's something about it you can't quite explain.

It's as if the vibrations here are different,

More alive,

More electrifying.

Just as when you sleep,

You sleep deeper than ever before,

When you're awake,

You feel more awake,

Invigorated and in tune with the invisible forces that surround you.

The wind here wakes your senses and straightens your spine.

Where you were raised,

Magic was a relic of a bygone age,

A memory passing into myth.

But here,

Enchantment seems to infuse the rocks and waters and sky,

Enlivening the atmosphere.

It feels immediate,

Tangible.

Something drew you here,

Across half the world,

A presence in the bones of the earth.

Strange herbs grow on these mountain peaks,

And they sting the air with stimulating scents,

Sharpening the senses.

One grows on the east side of the mountain,

The likes of which you've never seen.

When the wind streams through patches of the plant,

It produces an intoxicating perfume.

When burned,

You've discovered,

The smoke offers a scent even more entrancing,

Inducing a state of intense relaxation.

After breakfast,

You practice for a time with your sword.

Having a fire-breathing dragon at your beck and call affords you some indulgence when it comes to honing your combat skills.

But you've decided it's necessary to master some basic techniques.

Night observes lazily,

Half amused by your self-taught flourishes.

Before leaving your village,

You trained briefly in swordsmanship and agility,

Using the rustic blade forged for you by the town blacksmith.

You build slowly upon this foundation,

Sometimes wishing you had the expert guidance of a swordmaster.

Still,

Just to feel the blade slice through the air,

And to move your body with precise intention,

Is of immense value.

It's like dancing,

You think.

Your feet shuffle across the rocks,

And your sword arm follows the momentum built through your base and core.

You twist round,

And bring the blade cleanly downward in a powerful slashing.

All in the space of a moment,

Something triggers.

It's like a bolt of lightning,

A bright sensation throughout your body as a dormant part of your mind wakes up.

All at once,

Though your sword cuts only through thin air it meets,

You sense resistance,

As though it's coming up against something solid.

You reel backward into your dream from last night,

The dream in which you rescued a dragon from a lion's attack.

For only an instant,

It's like you're there in the clearing in the enchanted wood,

And yet you're also here,

Atop a windy peak in unknown country.

When at last your body and mind relax,

Settling back into the lucid awareness of your where and when,

You look to night,

Who regards you with an unmistakable expression,

One of absolute understanding.

She felt it too,

You realize.

She was there in the wood with you.

There's a fierce vitality in the atmosphere between you and the dragon,

Like an invisible tether that connects your hearts and minds.

Your breathing returns to normal,

But you can sense your inhale and exhale coming into alignment with night.

It's a while before either of you speaks.

Night,

You venture.

The king regent,

What is the symbol of his house?

You wait for the dragon to respond,

But you already know the answer.

The lion,

She says,

Bringing into speech that which already rings in your heart.

A cloud moves over the late morning sun,

Bringing a sudden chill to the skies and goosebumps to the flesh on your arms.

There is more,

You think,

In the recesses of your memory,

The limitless depths of your subconscious than you knew.

In your mind's eye,

The surreal adventure of your dream,

A dark wood,

A mythic conflict,

A mirror image of you protecting the lion,

Swirls and flashes with more concrete images.

A dragon banner flying over a stone castle and an instant later in tatters.

A new flag bearing the herald of a rampant lion with a double tail.

The clank and clamor of sword on sword.

The shouting of soldiers and the drawing of doors.

It all comes on with utter and immense clarity in contrast to the languorous pace of the dream vision.

You were only a baby when you were removed from court.

It's impossible to think that what you see are memories of the rebellion.

And yet,

The images are so vivid,

So detailed,

That they feel real enough to step into.

How can this be,

You wonder.

Unless.

The realization comes delicately.

Not like the lightning bolt,

But more so the soft melting and absorption of frost into thawing soil.

Dreams,

Memories,

Thought.

The connection you feel tonight,

The splendid dragon,

Goes deeper than kin,

Deeper than blood.

Your minds are linked,

Almost as one being.

Something about this place,

It seems,

Has amplified the connection,

Brought it to the surface,

Stirred your dreams and visions into one.

It's only now that you realize you've fallen to the ground,

Knocked as it were off your feet by the force of the vision.

Night,

All monstrously magnificent against the pale afternoon,

Towers over you,

Her reptilian face caught in an expression of concern and sympathy.

Did that come from you,

You ask,

Your voice calmer than you expect it to be.

The fighting,

The castle.

Yes,

Night responds.

And the lion,

The forest,

Did that come from you?

Yes,

You say.

The air hums,

The rustle of leaves from the trees in the valley below swells to a whispering crescendo.

High upon a mountain,

Above the pines and mist,

Your entire consciousness shifts.

It is a curious thing,

A wondrous thing,

You discover,

To share thoughts with another in this world.

Atop the world,

Here in your hermitage,

You and night plumb the depths of each other's minds,

Learning the curves and channels of the space between you and sending messages along those strings.

Like dew on spiders' webs,

Pushed forth with only the force of thought,

You recruit energy from the ringing atmosphere,

Shaping the images deep in your mind into coherent streams,

Then sending them forth.

This becomes a daily practice between you.

The days pass much as they did before.

You rise early,

Share a meal,

Practice your swordplay,

And ride your dragon over the peaks on the hunt for food and firewood.

But now,

At liminal times,

Midday,

Twilight,

When the quality of light seems a portal to other worlds,

You and night burn the hypnotically scented herbs and meditate together,

Exploring the threads of your newfound psychic bond,

Crafting messages to send to each other.

In time,

You learn much of your own past,

Seen through night's eyes as though they are your own.

You witness the doting attention of the old king and queen,

Your parents,

The revelry of court,

And soon the downfall of the dynasty.

Then you fully inhabit the dragon's experience of imprisonment in the depths of a cave,

Cultivating an even more potent foundation of empathy.

Night,

In turn,

Sees fields of grain for the first time,

Accompanying you through the quiet yet comforting mundanity of adolescence on the farm.

You package memories like little gifts and send them along in visible strings,

Firmly tied to your respective souls.

You receive them with gratitude and humility,

Not knowing how or why you came by this connection,

But feeling all the time that it is natural,

Inevitable even.

Your hatchlings,

After all,

Kin,

And it seems,

Soulmates.

Indeed,

The nexus is so strong,

So palpable that at times,

During your meditation,

You become helplessly entangled in the network of thoughts,

Dreams,

And memory.

There are moments,

Fleeting but frequent,

In which your mind and night's are utterly indistinguishable.

You forget,

Briefly,

Where you end,

And the dragon begins to sing.

You can almost feel your belly as a tinderbox,

Or the shelter of a tiny ember,

The spark of magnificent fire.

You feel strong,

Imposing,

And above all,

Empowered.

Does the dragon experience this,

You wonder,

This passing confusion of embodied experience?

As your new abilities grow and develop,

So does the moon.

It waxes fuller each night,

Swelling as if with the gathered energy of your work.

As it gradually nears its fullest expression,

The mountain peaks almost seem to vibrate with potential.

Something new and exhilarating is within your grasp.

You can feel it.

And so can night.

You can't put it into words just yet,

Or even into abstract understanding,

But you know you are on the precipice of something.

Tonight,

Then,

You determine.

At midnight,

Underneath the full moon,

We'll cross whatever threshold we discover.

You choose midnight,

Of course,

Because it is the most enigmatic hour when mysteries might be revealed.

Because the moon will be high.

And because it is the very essence of your dragon's namesake.

Midnight is a doorway.

Midnight is a doorway.

The hour soon approaches,

And the moon does rise,

Swollen and veiled,

Honey-gold overhead.

You make a small pile of the exotic herbs.

The foliage leaves an oily residue on your fingers.

This you massage into the dry skin of your hands,

Which drink it in gratefully.

Night breathes a controlled stream of fire onto the pile,

And the leaves immediately ignite,

Curling in on themselves and glistening with red-hot embers.

Smoke travels on elegant,

Irregular spirals through the chilly darkness,

Only mildly troubled by a mild dancing breeze.

And the fragrance makes its way effortlessly to your nose.

It's a mystifying blend of accords,

One you've ached to separate from the rest.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a mysterious blend of notes,

And a mixture of notes.

It's a process of casting,

Almost as a fisher casts his line out to sea,

With a specialized target in mind.

It's a process of casting,

Almost as a fisher casts his line out to sea,

With a specialized target in mind.

It's a process of casting,

Almost as a fisher casts his line out to sea,

With a specialized target in mind.

It's a process of casting,

Almost as a fisher casts his line out to sea,

With a specialized target in mind.

It's a process of casting,

Almost as a fisher casts his line out to sea,

With a specialized target in mind.

It's a process of casting,

Almost as a fisher casts his line out to sea,

With a specialized target in mind.

It's a process of casting,

Almost as a fisher casts his line out to sea,

With a specialized target in mind.

It's a process of casting,

Almost as a fisher casts his line out to sea,

With a specialized target in mind.

Individually,

You and the dragon bind and focus on an especially powerful and specific thought,

An image,

Or a memory,

Or a symbol from a dream.

Individually,

You and the dragon bind and focus on an especially powerful and specific thought,

An image,

Or a memory,

Or a symbol from a dream.

Individually,

You and the dragon bind and focus on an especially powerful and specific thought,

An image,

Or a memory,

Or a symbol from a dream.

Individually,

You and the dragon bind and focus on an especially powerful and specific thought,

An image,

Or a memory,

Or a symbol from a dream.

Individually,

You and the dragon bind and focus on an especially powerful and specific thought,

An image,

Or a memory,

Or a symbol from a dream.

Individually,

You and the dragon bind and focus on an especially powerful and specific thought,

An image,

Or a memory,

Or a symbol from a dream.

And once it's firmly established in your own mind,

So full and authentically realized that it would be recognizable anywhere,

You cast it forth toward your partner.

And once it's firmly established in your own mind,

So full and authentically realized that it would be recognizable anywhere,

You cast it forth toward your partner.

And once it's firmly established in your own mind,

So full and authentically realized that it would be recognizable anywhere,

You cast it forth toward your partner.

And once it's firmly established in your own mind,

So full and authentically realized that it would be recognizable anywhere,

You cast it forth toward your partner.

And once it's firmly established in your own mind,

So full and authentically realized that it would be recognizable anywhere,

You cast it forth toward your partner.

And once it's firmly established in your own mind,

So full and authentically realized that it would be recognizable anywhere,

You cast it forth toward your partner.

It's an action entirely powered by mental energy and intention.

At the same time,

You imagine and manifest a thread,

An invisible string,

With one end tied to the thought you're sending,

And one end tied to you.

At the same time,

You imagine and manifest a thread,

An invisible string,

With one end tied to the thought you're sending,

And one end tied to you.

At the same time,

You imagine and manifest a thread,

An invisible string,

With one end tied to the thought you're sending,

And one end tied to you.

At the same time,

You imagine and manifest a thread,

An invisible string,

With one end tied to the thought you're sending,

And one end tied to you.

At the same time,

You imagine and manifest a thread,

An invisible string,

With one end tied to the thought you're sending,

And one end tied to you.

The message acts then like an anchor in the mind of the other,

Only to be retrieved when the ritual concludes.

As the process begins tonight,

Under the corn-yellow moon,

You search for an initiatory image or thought to send tonight as your anchor.

It comes like a wind now.

It's small,

Unremarkable,

Seemingly insignificant.

But it feels right.

It's a feeling of warmth.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

But it feels right.

You see a field of barley subtly assuay in the golden liquid light of late afternoon.

You feel yourself moving slowly through the field,

Your outstretched hand just grazing the soft,

Tickly tendrils of the grain.

It feels like home.

And untapped by the light,

You feel the light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

It's a feeling of light.

Like a fishing line to your hatchling,

Your sister,

Your dragon.

This is your anchor.

And as you cast it forward,

You receive a message.

It lands lightly in your mind,

Flooding you first with only emotion,

Comfort,

Contentment.

And then it takes shape as image and sound.

And then it takes shape as image and sound.

And then it takes shape as image and sound.

And then it takes shape as image and sound.

And then it takes shape as image and sensation.

And then it takes shape as image and sensation.

You see through dragon's eyes a castle window,

You see through dragon's eyes a castle window,

Through which streams the light of a moon so like tonight's.

Through which streams the light of a moon so like tonight's.

You watch how the moonlight plays across flagstone floors,

You watch how the moonlight plays across flagstone floors,

You watch how the moonlight plays across flagstone floors,

You watch how the moonlight plays across flagstone floors,

And gently across the gauzy ivory fabric of a canopy,

And gently across the gauzy ivory fabric of a canopy,

Drawn close around what must be a cradle.

Drawn close around what must be a cradle.

You feel warm and sleepy,

You feel warm and sleepy,

But also endowed with great and worthy responsibility.

But also endowed with great and worthy responsibility.

You feel like a protector.

You feel like a protector.

The invisible tethers hum like the strings of a lyre,

The invisible tethers hum like the strings of a lyre,

Plucked on a pleasing harmony.

Plucked on a pleasing harmony.

The connection is made.

The connection is made.

The connection is made.

The connection is made.

The connection is made.

It's tempting to practice as you always have,

But you both know that tonight is different,

That you have mastered and moved beyond the foundations of casting,

The sending and receiving of messages.

The tether feels stronger tonight,

Perhaps amplified by the midnight moon,

Or by the strength and specificity of your anchors.

But you have the sense,

Call it intuition or whatever you will,

That if you wanted,

You could step out onto the invisible string,

Gather up your balance,

And walk across it.

And so you do.

With the full presence and energy of your mind,

Galvanized by the mesmeric fragrance of the herbs,

You leave your body and move,

Slowly and with unwavering intention,

Across the line you've cast.

You know somehow that night is doing the same.

Two beads of dew sliding along the strings of fate.

And then there you are,

Hardly conscious of the effort it took or of the gravity of the feat,

You are back in a body,

But it is not your body.

It is muscle and bone and scale and horn,

Imposing and empowered.

You feel the weight of organic armor pulling you downward,

And you know that any step you take would create a thunder in the earth.

But you also feel the presence of your wings.

Ah,

They are a relief indeed,

And their mere existence lightens you,

Makes you feel one with the stars.

At length you open your eyes,

And you look upon your own face through the wisps of perfumed smoke.

How uncanny it is to see yourself through another's eyes.

By virtue,

Perhaps,

Of the perspective,

You look with a tenderness and indulgence,

You've really applied to yourself.

You've been so quick to self-judgment,

You now realize you really are a creature of wonder and beauty.

The eyes across the fire open,

Your eyes but not.

Night regards you through them.

For a moment you both seem to stifle a laugh.

Whether it's amusement,

Shock,

Or pure ecstasy,

You can't say.

But then the initial butterflies subside,

And you settle,

Breathing,

And you feel the warmth of the earth.

You hide,

And you settle,

Breathe into the exchange.

You hardly want to move for fear of breaking the tether accidentally,

And losing your pathway back to your body.

But you breathe,

And you listen,

And you observe.

Bonds like these are not so easily broken,

Says a voice in your head.

You're not sure whose voice it is,

Night's or your own.

It doesn't matter,

You've both had the same thought.

As long as the fire burns,

And as long as you intend it to,

The connection will remain intact.

And now a seed has been planted in your mind,

Though you don't know by whom.

A delightful,

Impossible,

And mischievous seed.

Your gaze across the fire doesn't waver.

The face you thought was yours nods,

Almost imperceptibly in response.

Go,

Says the unknown voice.

Fly.

And fly you do.

Without hesitation,

You dig your hind claws into the clay,

And push away from the earth with a force you've never known.

Your wings unfold,

And first you flap them wildly,

Unsure how to proceed.

It's not long,

However,

Before you find an equalizing pressure in the atmosphere,

A stream of air that buoys you from below,

And stabilizes you from above.

You stretch your wings wide,

And feel the invigorating flux of night air around you,

Almost enveloping you as you move through it.

Your nostrils flare,

And oh,

How the cool air streams down your throat,

Massaging you inside and out.

You feel awake,

And alive,

And also relaxed,

Unencumbered.

You are a dragon.

You're a dragon.

Deep in your belly resides a tiny flame,

An engine that propels you through the cloudless sky,

The stars blink in endless sweeps and multitudes.

You ride the waves of the wind.

Within minutes,

Flight is as natural to you as breathing.

Exhilaration ignites and swells within you,

Kindling the tiny flame,

Until you must let it escape.

You release a torrent of fire across the open sky.

It makes you feel powerful and creative.

There's no will to destroy in this fire,

Only to create,

To spark,

To move forward.

People fear fire,

You think,

Often rightly so,

But in that fear of destruction,

It's easy to miss that generative aspect of fire,

How it releases new substances as it forms,

How it makes possible radical and necessary change.

Far below among the peaks,

Your home body is an anchor,

Flying you like a kite,

Patiently awaiting your return.

And as the moonlight graces your crimson scales,

You can almost feel a million more little invisible strings connecting you to all the souls,

All the spirits,

All the infinite wisdom of the universe.

They bind you sweetly to all memory,

All myth,

All possibility.

Briefly,

In a kind of sublime incandescence,

You can see the future.

And you will master this new and exciting gift,

Such that on a moment's notice and with little effort,

You will be able to exchange your consciousness with your dragon.

That you will be each other's anchors from here on out,

Each other's homes.

And that you will claim your rightful throne one day,

But not through force or fire or the swing of a sword.

You were never one for conquest,

Dragon or no.

If the kingdom won't be won through kindness,

Mercy and justice,

Then it won't be won at all.

Somewhere,

Another is being groomed for the throne.

Someone so much like you.

Their allegiance may be to the lion instead of the dragon,

But they are still just like you.

Flawed,

Well-intentioned,

Capable of forgiveness and mercy.

You'll touch down soon and walk again across the invisible string to re-inhabit your body,

No doubt finding it more cozy and welcoming than ever before.

But for just a little while longer,

You'll stay afloat.

You'll breathe fire.

You'll fly on the wings of night.

Breathe naturally,

Finding a comfortable stillness into which you can fully relax and slow down,

Letting the pace of your day naturally decelerate as you approach rest.

Let your awareness soften,

Taking in the sounds and sensations that surround you but allowing them to be little more than a backdrop,

Blending together into a kind of fuzzy blanket of white noise.

Create within your soft awareness a retreat from worry,

Obligation,

And ambition.

A space of safety in your own mind and body.

A cocoon.

Slowly scan the body,

Releasing tension as you go,

Sinking into the mattress or wherever it is you're resting.

From the soles of the feet,

Up through the legs,

Hips,

Belly and back,

Waist,

Chest,

Shoulders,

Arms and hands,

Neck,

All the way to the top of your head.

Just letting go.

Soften any tension or furrowing you may have in your brow or in the other muscles of your face.

Letting yourself be soft and supple.

And when it feels right,

Gently bring your awareness to the space directly between your eyebrows.

Let your eyelids be soft here.

And imagine that space between the eyebrows unfolding,

Opening like a flower.

As your gentle awareness lingers between the brows,

Imagine a soft ball of light radiates from that space.

The center of the light is pure white,

With a ring of deep blue at the edges.

See how the light shifts and flickers.

Like a tiny ball of blue flame radiating warmth and illumination.

Breathe here.

And imagine the ball of light expanding slightly with your inhale and receding as you exhale.

The light is intimately connected with your breath.

Does your breath cause the glowing light to swell and recede?

Or does the light move your breath in and out?

Stay here in this visualization for as long as you like,

Feeding the light with your breath and allowing the flame to be your engine in a constant exchange toward a deeper inner gaze,

A more intuitive gaze.

And when you're ready,

Release the ball of light maybe allowing it to diffuse into your surroundings wrapping you up like a quilt of warmth and wisdom and letting it go.

Let the visualization go.

Let everything go.

Soften and sink down.

Letting each breath take you deeper.

Whatever path lies ahead,

Trust in your intuition.

You are connected to deep inner wisdom.

More connected than you realize.

You are memory,

Possibility,

And a myth.

Good night.

Reviews

Wonderful!

This was a very interesting and insightful message that helped me understand more about myself. Thanks for sharing your story.
Namaste 🙏 ❤️

Love this!! I am a fantasy sci-fi buff and all these stories are fabulous! Your voice is very soothing, too!

So good. Thank you. 🐲💫👑🙏

Excellent tone and pace as always.I loved the start of the story, as usually happens I have no memory of the story after a short while so know I fell asleep. Falling asleep used to feel like putting a cat into a box for the vets, now I don’t even remember falling asleep. Thank you so much 🙏

Such a soothing voice I love your meditations so much

Great imagery and soothing voice that allows me to drift off to sleep every time.

I'd love tohear the ending but I fall àsleep. And I wake up thinking it's just a pause LOL. I feel very rested. Thank.

I’m in love with your story telling! Thank for continuing to write these fantastic tales 💕

I want to know how it ends, because I never get to the end of the story, always puts me right to sleep!
Very soothing voice and amazing content, it’s my newest addiction

So glad for a sequel to one of my favorites so far. Will be listening to this one minutes at a time over many nights.

I’m so happy you’re back ✨
Thank you for this beautiful story once again

So excited you’re back, and to dream of being a dragon, couldn’t get dreamier! Now I need to pick up the thread where I eased into sleep…🙏🏼💕💐
And after a few more sleeps and wakings, heard it all, mostly😄 Profound and intricate—so grateful for you and your sharing!

I was so happy to see this first story from season three. I had just listened to The Dragon Rider a couple of nights ago, so was especially interested to hear more! I fell asleep before it finished, so am still looking forward to hearing the rest.

Sleep and Sorcery at it’s best….,pure magic. Welcome back.