Once the dream descended, Brandon would always open his eyes to a beautiful sight.
The sun rising was far out and beyond him. Starburst yellow and oranges blending with a fog wafting down from the heavens to coat the mountains. These sights were breath taking to him. The sun seemed so close that he often wished that he could reach out and touch it. But no matter how he strained he was unable to move from his spot fixed above the man. Then Brandon would begin to hear them talking. Two males voices beneath him, raised in anger. One voice was familiar to him, because it was his own voice echoing out into the void and sheer rock all around.