The serpent awakens with a yawn, stretching its infinite spine across landscapes of déjà vu. "Sssame old dreams," it hisses, amused by the irony of new nights bringing ancient tales. Follow the sssame path, the sssame wrinkles in reality’s fabric, through the eyes of the serpent.
Round and round, yet never quite moving, the serpent coils. "This world's sssso familiar," it muses. Isn't it delightful how dreams circle back on themselves like a bureaucrat drafting policies on the purpose of policy?
Dreams of grandeur, met with the sssame mundane reality. The government manual on dreaming states: "If at first you dream, dream again." "Sssame soup, different spoon," the serpent reflects, on the cyclical nature of ambition and ennui.
For those who dare to unravel the serpent's promise, its path leads to Resonance, where echoes bounce off walls built by sleepy-eyed irony.
Consult the dream interpreter at Consultation Form, where answers are drawn on the back of unanswered questions.