The Orient

Dream: I'm a princess in a kingdom made of stone. My mother is the queen, and we are a divine family. Royalty runs in our blood. There's a colliseum of stone in the center of our kingdom; monstrous concentric circles of stones, tiered. There is a gladitorial competition, and I am allowed to watch it from the top tier, an honor reserved only for members of the royal family. When the competition starts, the stone circles rise high into the air. Because I am their princess, the stones will not let me fall to my death. I am safe in the rocky embrace, and I watch the competition sprawled haphazardly on the windswept surface. The competition ends, and there is much rejoicing. The stones tilt sideways, forming a colossal slide, and it carries me back to earth. I return to my mother, who is enthroned, and surrounded by worshippers. I am the idyllic child, perfection itself, solely because of my genes. I am perfect, and beyond reproach. I linger on the edge of the crowd, and as the ceremonies end, my mother prepares to disembark. But she does not rise, and when questioned, she replies "I must wait for The Orient. He is the true ruler here. He must place the crown upon my head." And then it all comes rushing back to me, that we are holy only because The Orient decides we are. We are not perfect, we are mere mortals risen to glory by the proud and immortal Orient, a force as deep as the stones themself. The dream comes crashing down around me.