It entered not by foot, but by silence.
The door never opened.97Please respect copyright.PENANAlZo84Ow2eO
The fire dimmed, not from cold—but reverence.97Please respect copyright.PENANAMf2lh6SgYO
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.97Please respect copyright.PENANA5GyyeAbbsv
The wish made by something that had never had a name.97Please respect copyright.PENANAngxLDgjG1a
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.97Please respect copyright.PENANAMV8nYWv4uE
A garden made of bone and hope.97Please respect copyright.PENANAE343YqPrZK
A city folded beneath a sea of teeth.97Please respect copyright.PENANAqjjbte9td5
The first time someone looked at a sky and believed it meant something.
I brewed anyway.
Something small.97Please respect copyright.PENANAD6FnMUw2ai
Woven from pauseflower and nightmilk.97Please respect copyright.PENANAxvuytiU7B0
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.
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