In his dream, he saw a bullfrog, bigger than anything imaginable. Big as a tree, bigger than the sky, bigger than the vast open plains of his kind’s distant memory. He watched as the frog’s throat trembled and swelled, bulging grotesquely until he though it would burst. Would the frog explode, sending pieces of slimy skin skyward?

No! From within that bulging throat burst a bubble of sound, a noise that echoed and reverberated in his very bones. A great croak ripped forth, belching hotly from the creature’s mouth.

RIBBIT!

Secrets are best shared sub rosa.

She dreams of seeing what’s over the hill,
a place untouched by hoof or horn,
a place she knows she’ll never go,
a place forgotten before she’s born.

he slipped under the moss in a forgotten place, returning to nothing as dust motes came tumbling down

She was wrapped in the hard husk of a seed, its sleek, shiny coat a protective cocoon, and at the same time, she saw herself planting this same seed. She slumbered while waking, walked waking while sleeping. She nurtured herself, cultivating the seed, rejoicing at the tender sprout pushing forth throug the soil. She sent love down in her tangling taproots, sent it up in her swaying stem, but stubbornly, she stayed in her seed. She could her herself- or perhaps the sun- coaxing her out. Please, please blossom, please blossom. Would she? Could she? She opened an eye, and—!

Here he was, standing in the desert, looking up at the night sky and marveling at the stars.
There he was, stretched out on the plains, counting them in all their beauty.
He had gone to the mountains- and he watched the stars, counting the hours 'til dawn.
Then he was in the swamp, and the constellations danced above him.
He blinked, and moved, and moved, his body in a thousand different places, but the same stars above him shone down.
The same stars blanketing the world and all it held- a shared visage, one vision for all.

She dreamed of deaths not her own. There had been a catastrophe, a great flood, a wildfire. What it was hadn't been important. The important thing of it was that she was the only one left. She alone was there to care for the dead. From the highlands to the lowlands, she nursed them, tended them, brought them to rest. The infinite dead; each one she gave one final caress as she laid them on the green. Their lives were a mystery. Their deaths hadn't come easy. But now, now they could sleep, cushioned by soft grass and cared for by her, the final sentinel for them all.