I was nothing, I was a nonentity. I existed only to watch, deep in the twisted digestive tract of Leviathan.
I saw a mighty orc run through the esophageal halls of Leviathan, laughing with a mad gleam in his eyes. A pack of baying hounds ran at his leash, hounds like enormous bulldogs, fantastical and savage. Somehow I knew this orc had been running thus for countless eons, seeking escape but never finding it.
Far behind, another orc ran, like unto the first-- but he was grim. There were no hounds at his leash, and no laughter in his throat. I knew him to be brother to the orc-who-laughed, and I knew the hounds belonged to him, and that Laughing Brother had stolen them. Grim Brother ran with desperate fury: I knew, and Grim Brother knew, that the hounds would die if they ran much longer, though they had run already for many centuries.
Laughing Brother drew the hound-pack to a stop suddenly, in a damp and living chamber. A puckered sphincter opened and closed in the wall: here, I knew, here, Laughing Brother knew, was the throat of Leviathan. Escape at last!
But now Grim Brother came, seeking vengeance for Laughing Brother's ancient crime; he clutched a loaded crossbow in his gnarled hand. Laughing Brother wheeled, and smiled. There was madness in the eyes of the brothers both.
The dream moved. I do not know how that alien scene ended. But when I saw Laughing Brother smile, the hounds sprawled exhausted about him, I knew in my heart that only one of the two orcs would escape Leviathan alive.
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Yeah, that was a weird night. My sleep cycle has been erratic lately.