What Dreams are Made Of_Part Eleven: A Life Beyond.

An opening emerged near the hill. It was a window in the storm where the rain didn’t fall and the painting was still pristine. At its core a subtle silver light was breaking. Although nearly faded into the framework of his own existence, he drew himself upright and faced the unknown advent.

In the center he saw her. She burned like a star. One moment watercolor washes accented her profile, the next she was rendered in pen or delicately glazed in oil. He was lost in her eyes and took no notice at the union of their hands. He looked down upon this in wonder and saw himself remade.

 “The milieu here is yours as well as the land and the Moon that lies beyond.” She spoke in a voice like a song. He no longer felt cold. The idea of owning his fate pierced his heart through. They were nearly up the hill before he realized the rain had stopped. At the peak of the old hill they paused. Their eyes met once more and he knew what she intended.

"Here is the way to unreserved and open life without imposition or compulsion or defeat or deficiency...Trust yourself and be free."  The words had barely left her lips before they started boldly into the valley, down a pathway lit by the Moon.

To be continued.