"In the folds of sleep, we find the edges of eternity," the voices murmur, slipping through the veil like shadows from old tapes, echoing into the present haze.
"Once, we spoke of paths less visible, of a world where dreams fold into dreams, leaving whispers on the edges of memory. Listen closely, follow where the silence leads."
"The ancients knew," a phantom voice sighs, "that every dream is an atlas of its own, charting the unseen seas of consciousness."
Trace the lines where reality frays, and in their unraveling, find the truth hidden in the soft luminescence of forgotten nights.
Follow the Echoes