In a small cave scarcly lite by the small spelldrop pond, I stumbled around trying as I was to figure what to do through the burning headache that only lost, sleep depravation, and a few boxes of tissues can case. In the end I wond up recalling/pass out dreaming the first magic lesson my teachers ever gave me. 'Magic is the life blood of the planet, and so we as Mages act both as guardians and retainers. Defending it from those whom would miss use it, all the while using it ourselves.' Chuckling lightly as I think about how hypocritical it is of mages to say such things, only to be interrupted by a second recall dream.

This time however insted of the same cave I had stumbled into when I was awake, it was a small shabbly room with an old antique bed with a quilted dart board (with pencils and darts sticking in it) as well as what appears to be a lava lamp night stand covered in books, a hand held mirror hanging on the left wall right above the bed, a large physics defying bookshelve that was on the ceilling yet still retaining an almost comical amount of books and papers, a mockingly small window on the floor. And as if the room was aware of just how mind-numbingly ridiculous it looked it topped off the icing on the cake with armed nick-nacks in any nook and crany not occupied by books and paper (which means they were all over the floor in little vengeful platoons).

However, despite the hilarious nature of the room, I knew... I knew what was going to happen and that this was not a good dream in any way. I bracing myself for what was to come as I went over to the antique bed were my last master lay in all her grandmotherly glory, dying as I held her hand. At last as she always did both in my dreams and in reality said:

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"What's wrong dear boy? Why do you weep in loss in this a world so full of wonder and light? Do you seek to comfort me, as death waits patient at my doorstep?"

Just as always I reply in the face of my dying grandmotherly master.: "Yes, after all you are very dear to me not only as my master but as my grandmoher as well, my Grandma Master."

My frail master chuckled softly as she comforts me even as the light in her eyes dim, saying with her final breath.: "Silly boy, you needn't comfort nor mourn me, as I pass for my body and soul is not all that I am. In the end all that I need to be are the memories, which I share with you my dear child." 

I sit there beside her as her hand goes limp in my own, her final breath spent. Although she had told me not to, I balled crying only in this sad dream of a memory, for I had already long spent all my tears in reality. 

I thus preceed to cry, planning to only stop once either my stomach or my colin wakes me from my slumber. However, it seem that if deities truely exist are huge jerks.

And with a few loud *BOOM*s the wall behind me fell, covering me rubble. As these string of events unraveled I thought to myself.: 'I can only hope that this is either another dream, or a hallucination brought on by sleep depravation.' As I move the rubble off, I seriously hope that my thoughts are correct, I emerge from the rumble pile to see a set of figures cafefully decending the rubble pile. Until my hopes of it all being just a dream where throughly crushed, and I mean very literally crush as someone stuck a landing on make back after jumping from the top of the pile.