Curled up on the bed, his coat carefully folded and laid over the back of a chair to keep it free of wrinkles and reddish-orange Carthane hair, he dreams…
Time itself seems to stop – the dust motes hang still in a beam of moonlight. A hexagonal door of bright white light irises open in the middle of the room. From it steps a creature of nightmare – tall and skeletal thin, leathery dark gray skin, enormous almond shaped eyes so black they seem to absorb all light, and no discernible facial features. The three long fingers of a hand brush lightly over him, not directly touching the skin but raising the small hairs and activating nerve responses none the less.
Ozy is unable to move in this dream and Mr. Bones is nowhere to be seen.
The creature turns back to the portal, pivoting smoothly on two legs that seem bent the wrong way ‘round and Ozy notices that it is perched upon its six toes – three per leg and nearly as long as its fingers. Ozy briefly remembers how awed he was by the strength of the unnamed eagle’s talons gripping their perch atop Yggdrasil.
The memory is washed away by panic – rising unbidden from some deep and primordial place within him – as his body rises up off the bed and follows this creature through the portal.
Once through the portal, his body floats across a hexagonal room of featureless metal to large slab that seems grown from the middle of the floor.
Suddenly he is surrounded by small blue skinned beings, roughly poking and scanning him with various instruments, speaking to each other in a language consisting of grunts and burbles that he can’t understand.
Again the scene changes and he’s standing in a fluctuating field of white with the tall thin creature. He feels a wave of curious compassion and the creature weaves his hands in a simple pattern – causing the field of energy that surrounds them to contort and swirl. Ozy feels a mental nudge and the creature gestures that he should move his hands as well.
Ozy does so and the mists sullenly respond, barely moving in response.
A wave of approval and love washed over Ozy and the creature repeats his gestures.
They repeat this until Ozy realizes that this energy is the same force that he interacts with when animating the dead and manages to – very nearly – recreate the same gestures as this creature whose presence by now seems familiar and even comfortable.
Ozy awakes in bed sweating profusely. Sitting up, blinking and disoriented, he looks around the room. There is no evidence that any of this was real, but his coat has fallen from the back of the chair.