In the heart of the valley where the mountains sleep, boulders carved by time rest eternally, their surfaces etched with secrets older than the sun itself. Beneath their stony guardians, dreams linger like mist, elusive and untamed.
Alongside a brook that hums a forgotten lullaby, a traveler pauses. They sit cross-legged upon the cool earth, the weight of their journey forgotten amid the whispers among the stones. Here, dreams weave a tapestry unseen.
"What lies beneath?" they ponder, voice barely a ripple in the hush. The boulders, unyielding and silent, offer no answer. Yet, the ground beneath trembles slightly, not with fear, but a gentle stirring of slumbering memories.
Guided by an unseen force, the traveler closes their eyes and breathes deep, inhaling the essence of whispers, shadows, and an infinite sky. In the fold of dreams, time dances to a rhythm unknown, and the stories unfold: of stars that weep for the ocean, of trees that grow downwards into the light, of echoes that remember the songs of long-gone peoples.
A voice, neither loud nor soft, emerges—a call from beyond the veil. It sings of paths to be taken, and rocks yet to be turned. Seek the path, it urges, and the traveler opens their eyes, knowing the choice awaits.
After what feels like an eternity, the traveler rises, dust clinging to their feet, spirits lifted by the unseen dreams that now accompany them. The boulders watch, their ancient souls untouched but somehow enriched by the transient presence.
The question lingers in the valley, carried softly on the wind: What dreams do you carry?