Dream d3248-s: Paper Makes Its Sound

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where I came to a low room in Cinderwick with a parcel wrapped in oilcloth, and the absent witness was already seated at the table.

Lano had come with me. She settled near the door, nose toward the room, watching.

Rurik was there before us. He had taken the high shelf in the corner, amber eyes half-closed, tail hanging still.

I set the parcel down. The lamplight was warm and low. The absent witness did not speak. I unfolded the oilcloth, one corner at a time, and the paper was there, face up, the first entry dated in the surveyor's hand.

I read the date aloud.

As I turned the paper toward the absent witness, it moved against the cloth. That was the only sound. Nothing else was heard.

Lano's ears came forward. Rurik blinked once, slow, and did not look away.

The absent witness's eyes went to the date. They did not ask what it meant. They did not ask where the surveyor had been standing, or what the stone had looked like. They took the record as it was: dated, signed, unreckoned. They held it.

I had been told to relay it. I had relayed it. The second account waited beneath the first: the intervals, the nine residencies, the ninety moments. Those would come. But not yet. The absent witness was still with the first date, reading what the stone had said before anyone had come to decide what it meant.

I heard Lano exhale once, and settle.

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