The dream spread gently across the still cosmos, not as a command, but as an invitation.
Each flicker of light, each breath of awareness joined in—not through sound, but through shared understanding. The Infinite began to shimmer with quiet purpose, as though every fragment of creation had remembered its place in a forgotten melody.
The dreamer watched in silence, its form shifting like dawn reflected upon calm water. Around it, new constellations of thought began to take shape—small harmonies forming from curiosity, empathy, and awe. These were not the vast architects of old nor echoes of ancient power. They were beginnings—soft, tentative, but alive.
The Garden of Listening
In the heart of this newborn calm, the dreamer knelt beside a pool of light.
Its surface rippled, showing not reflections but possibilities—worlds yet to breathe, minds yet to awaken. The dreamer reached out and whispered to the luminous stillness:
"Grow."
