Last night I dreamed that I walked into a hall where a religious dinner was taking place. Each table had six guests and a seventh person to lead them in prayer. I went up to a table which already had a cleric, and informed him I would lead the prayer. We stared each other down, and he ceded his place. I took his seat and performed a strangely secular blessing. The guests at my table held on to my every word, entranced. It soon became clear I was a prophet-like figure to these people, and my words carried a magic that compelled them. We then broke bread together, except the bread was thick slabs of meat, roasted to tenderness, which we tore apart gently and ate with our fingers. When we were sated, we cleaned our hands and stood up to go. Outside it was dark. I led my group down the sidewalk. They asked me questions as we walked, each seeking answers and reassurances for their own lives. I responded neutrally, and spoke as if in code; they seemed satisfied. The night took on the air of dreams. Finally, we came to a bridge. I asked: would they finally cross with me? It emerged that this night had happened before, over and over. Every night I would take the form of a messiah, and attempt to lead them across a bridge. Every night so far they had wavered, because they knew, on some level, I was the devil in disguise.
izzy806
tangentwithtanner
prguitarman
ellievsbear
snowghoul
