Someone or something visited me on that last night of spells as I slept. I sensed it/him/her watching me during my dreams. Close by. In one of my bedroom’s corners, near a window. Spying. Taking me in. Consuming whatever they wanted from me. Present and causing me to stir in my sleep. Hovering over me. Watching me. Wanting me. More chaos during my days along the lake. I didn’t know who it was, of course, unable to define their frame, placing a name to them. It could have been the mysterious Ravenrock, a friendly and attractive Harry, or Jase Carmichael. I didn’t know at the time.
I woke from a dream about morality and death. After flicking on a nightstand’s light my bedroom was empty except for a wisp and spiral of gray smoke, which rose to the bedroom’s ceiling and vanished. A red rose,
