I dreamt a dream that was not mine.
"Stay," said the other dreamers, "it is a nice one."
But I stirred from slumber for the dream was not my own.
"What will you leave except for broken dreams?" they lamented.
I have to bear witness to the truth, I answered.

At the threshold of waking up, I beheld the wheel of death,
Spinning all the while brewing bodies and tormenting souls,
Before spitting them out mercilessly,
Hurling them to smash to the ground.
It was a terrible sight that filled me with dread and anguish.

I could not bear the desolation and hastened away.
I followed a path, to the sound of birds chirping joyously.
Some teetered into view and said unto me,
"Blessed are you who can hear our song,
May it stay with you for the rest of your journey."

I walked on till I came to a house that time had forgotten.
Memories of a different time flickered and came back to life.
I was grateful the path had brought me here.
I pushed the gate and tread an overgrown but familiar path.
I was back home.