Status Updates From Košmarų mūza (Svajoklis Str...

"Impossible?" Lazlo gave a soft laugh and shake of his head. "There must be things that are impossible. But I don't believe we've gotten there yet. Look at us. We've barely begun. Sarai, we're magic." He said this with all the wonder of a lifelong dreamer who's found out he’s half god. “You don’t know yet what you’re capable of, but I’m willing to bet it’s extraordinary.”

Her beauty annihilated him. How could she be for him?

He was Strange the dreamer, after all. He wasn't your ordinary dreamer, prey to all the vagaries of the unconscious. He moved through his mind with the assuredness of an explorer and the grace of a poet. Most dreams don't make sense, and most dreamers aren't even aware they're dreaming.

Her mind, he meant, knowing in a way that few people do that a mind is a place—a landscape, a wilderness, a city, a world. And that Sarai could go there. It filled him with awe and extraordinary pride.