1 Dreams of another world

The smell of magic was like burning sulfur. Wisps of purple crackled in the air, so dark it was almost black. Where the flow of magic passed over my skin, it was like a blunt knife scrapping across it. The wisps slowly condensed towards a centre, taking on a solid form. I can feel the power emanating from it, an absolute power that's pushing on the boundaries of human comprehension, and it is still growing with every minute. I did it, I finally did it!

Dizzy with delight, I felt a laugh escape from my lips. It came out a loud harsh bark like that of a feral dog, the sudden and ugly sound shocking me awake.

I opened my eyes. It was just beginning to get light out, and I could make out the shape of the familiar room around me with the faint sunlight filtering through my bedroom blinds. The dream I had was slowly fading, the feeling of power and glee seeping out of my body as reality settled itself into my mind. My mind flailed, trying to grasp onto as many details of the dream as I can remember

Some days, interspersed between nonsensical dreams of flying cats and fantastical castles, are dreams with a common theme. In the dream I was another person, and there was magic, warring realms, fantastical beings. It was like watching scenes from a long running TV series, and I always looked forward to the next episode.

Yes, that purple magic was dark magic. A lost magic that was very powerful, used by the demonic gods of old. And magic was invoked by understanding its structure, and saying the words as formula. The deeper your understanding, the more incantations you know, the more types of magic you may use. The most basic of incantations called forth fire and was the first magic the me in the dream learned as a child.

If you concentrate on the particles of magic between the dust (I can almost imagine them shimmering in the morning light like they did in the dreams), find the spark to ignite the flame, and

"Feera", I whispered.

A lick of fire exploded soundlessly into being, blowing heat onto my face. Just for an instant, and then it collapsed back onto itself and disappeared. I was shocked. If not for the slight circle of char on the spotlessly white bedroom blinds where the flames had seared, I would have thought that I had just imagined it. Only the black stain on the white blinds remained as evidence of what had happened, that, and the faint smell of burning sulfur hanging in the room.