Sailing the Dream

The wind shifted and I opened my eyes and took a firmer hold of the tiller.
I had dozed off into the dream again. I blinked my eyes and shook my head to
clear my mind. It was getting dark and cold, the sun just a diffuse glow on
the horizon.

With the dying breeze, I changed the angle of the sail to come a little
closer to the wind. The frigid lake water slipped silently into my wake as I
steered toward the island. The tide shift of the rising moons could push me
on to the barren rocks if I was not careful. I had to stay focused and not
let my own exhaustion over take me.

It was a long trip to make in a single day. My oxygen was running low,
causing me to slip into the dream. Stupid of me to take such risks knowing
the dangers, but the siren call of the crimson lake called to me more and
more these past few weeks.

I could just make out the shape moving in the water, heading toward the
island. I had not lost my prey. I chuckled to myself as I followed the
ripples and the dream into the cove.

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