The tunnel elongated, the kind of action featured in dreams where nothing was as it seemed. The trunk walls curved strangely, first bulging out and then curled inward to form an impenetrable ceiling. All light extinguished...and returned in spotlights. Every sense of comfort vanished.
Elianas laughed in disbelief. So many ages he’d had, and the taunts came in the form of a dreamscape? He had expected more. He’d expected challenge.
He stalked forward, every step revealing his disdain for this mundanity.
Whispers dogged him, inane sounds that contained little meaning and merely served to underscore ordinariness. If someone desired to frighten him and throw him off the scent, this certainly wasn’t the manner in which to achieve it. Where was imagination? This tunnel lived in the nightmares of children only.
He walked on with a smile, expecting dreadful creatures with fangs and vicious intent, perhaps even an otherworldly screech or two to round the whole off.
It was the rain that changed perception.
It began with a drip, drip, drip on the very edge of hearing.
A smell of earth.
Elianas came to a stop. A storm would be more fitting in this type of dreamscape- rain, slow drips finding chinks in the armour of the tunnel ceiling, signified...reality.
What did it mean?
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