“Perchance to dream…”

nice-goth-with-purple-stockings

But sleeping like the dead, dear reader, entails many, many things. And not all of those things are splendid or joyful. 

Unbeknownst to my sleeping body, the voice I trusted, the voice I practically worshiped, pulled my soul from my sleeping body and hurled it into the gray seas of Oblivion. 

If one voice had been my world, then imagine a nameless plethora of them gibbering at once at you in total darkness, each vying for your attention and pity. If you can imagine that horror, that is the dark dimension that is Oblivion–a place designed eons ago for souls with nowhere to go. 

Oblivion was cold. I mostly scuttled away to a quiet corner in the Nowhere and hugged my knees to my chest. I had to time to burn, the voices advised me, might as well settle in until your pardon, or at the very least, you found a new body to inhabit. 

This mystery of finding a way out was rather promising, but even the saner voices–relatively speaking–were filled with dense metaphor and cryptic instructions on how to proceed. I have no idea how long I existed in that dark well of absolute nothingness, but my lady, my spirit guide finally decided to come back to me. 

“How do you like this plane of existence, girl? Does it suit you?” 

I cannot say how quick I was to speak, for such things are all relative, nor can I say how long it took my soul to recognize that singular voice again. But I did respond…I think.

“I do not understand why you damned me and put me here,” I was forward, confrontational even. How could the lady, how could the voice treat me in such a fashion after I served her so patiently?

“Damn? Is that what the others told you? No, girl. I have striven to find you a new body, the right plane of existence for you. And I have done this because you are my most faithful priestess. You cannot die and not be rewarded by your goddess.”

I was quiet out of respect, not because I was sullen. “I thank you goddess, for I have ever only served you, even when other gods tempted me.”

“And do you wish to serve me again,” her voice came back promptly, louder than it had been. 

“Yes,” I said simply. “I wish to make your name great, your divinity greater.”

“That is what I wanted to hear from my favored one. Oh, if I had flesh I would show you my gratitude for your unquestionable servitude. I would show you such pleasures as only the flesh can know–“

–“and you shall,” I cut in. It was not rudeness, but temptation, but piety that drove me to it. 

“Very well, girl. You will sleep for one night, but then you awake, in shall be in a new body, a body that shall be your reward for being my most perfect slave.”

“And I shall work always,” I swore, “to be your most obedient one.”

“You will awake in a place called Norrath,” she said to me, “and you will begin your work at building a temple that shall be dedicated to me and the worship of me. Do you agree, girl?”

“The deed is already done,” I said, glad to be rid of the frigid cold of Nowhere. 

“Sleep then. When you next wake, this will all have been but a dream.”

I did exactly as my mistress demanded of me, and I slept. I fell into a well of comfort and warmth so lovely that when next I woke, I was instantly sad of the waking experience. But then my oath came thundering back to me, and I discovered my warm, curvy flesh, the wash of blood-red hair on my head, and the new strength in my limbs. 

If my goddess desired a temple, then as time is my witness, she would have one. 

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