I walked, then crawled across the desert of time, where sleep was the only oasis. When night arrived, I would build a fire and watch the wind scatter the glowing embers skyward. When I saw a falling star, I would pretend it was Juaisaji returning to me. But I knew it was only make-believe, which made my sadness deeper. Before drifting off to sleep, my only refuge, I would communicate with the Dreamer in my mind.
Revelations usually come in drops and dribbles.
But occasionally they hit like crashing waves. One evening, while I was floating toward the soft palace of dreams within dreams, a flow of consciousness higher than my own struck me. A truth I had never pondered became evident. A broken heart isn't bad. A broken heart means you feel, means you care about something other than yourself.