Bentis smoothed the ancient and tattered piece of parchment carefully.  He dipped his quill in the inkhorn and began laboriously to recopy the faded words…

 

The true nature of Cloudsbreak remains a mystery.  Before people learned to dream, they believed that their own small worlds, surrounded by the Boundary Mists, were all that existed.  Now they know that there are many worlds; some so small that one may ride from edge to edge in a day or two, some large enough to require a handful or more of days to cross from Mist to Mist. 

 

Each small world, now called a shard, is bounded by the Mists.  Whether the Mists are only a few handspans or miles deep, they are impenetrable.  Explorers on many shards have tried to penetrate them and all have failed to emerge again. 

 

With no possibility of physical contact, the people have never learned whether all the shards are part of a single larger world, or completely separate tiny worlds.  All those who have learned to Dream are of a similar human type, which suggests that the shards may be part of a single world.    If so, the shards were separated long enough ago that no known culture retains even the vaguest legend of a time before the Mists.

 

Isolated on their shards and with limited land and resources, the people of Cloudsbreak developed their own cultures.  On the smaller shards of Cloudsbreak, all one can do is try to produce enough food to survive through hunting and farming. Some few of the larger shards have learned to exploit what resources they have of metals, but none have advanced past simple tools and machines. 

 

With limited possibilities for development in other directions, many of the people of Cloudsbreak turned to mental and spiritual disciplines.  For untold millenia, nothing changed.  Then came the breakthrough.  Then came The Awakening.

 

The old monk carefully rolled up the parchment and put it into his scrip.  He folded the sheets on which he'd transcribed the ancient history and concealed them within the dullest book of sermons in the monastery's library.

 

It was several days before Bentis dared go back to the scriptorium and continue his work on the ancient fragments of parchment.  Once again, he chose a cold, cloudy day when few of the brothers wished to write in the semi-dark.

No one knows who the first person to achieve the awakening was.  What is known, however, is that it had a radical effect on the shards of Cloudsbreak.  Those who have achieved the awakening fall asleep on Cloudsbreak, and enter into a lucid dreaming.

 

The Dreamscape is a realm of swirling chaotic energy.  This energy was drawn from the incoherent  dreams of the unawakened people on Cloudsbreak.  Those who have achieved the awakening can come to consciousness in this place.  At first, they were formless, lost in the tumultuous energy.  They could hear the voices of others, and tried to speak themselves, but had little success.  They could sense the presence of other Dreamers, but could not make contact.

 

Gerrial Endeth was the first dreamer to craft an avatar, a form out of the chaos.  She gathered some of the ambient energy and used it to craft and maintain a stylized body around her consciousness.  Bolstered by her success, others began crafting avatars for themselves.  In these more stable forms, Dreamers could meet and recognize one another.  And having learned to manipulate the essence of the Dreamscape, they began to impose structures upon it.

 

The Dreamers who would become the Master Dreamwrights learned to visualize an equivalent of solid matter within the Dreamstate.  So powerful and disciplined were their minds that they were able to project their visualizations to other Dreamers and have their illusions accepted as real and solid places.

 

The first place crafted was the Hall of Voices.  It was a sheltered place, where dreamers could come and speak in comfort.   At first, the Hall was enough.  The dreamers would meet and share tales of their shards in Cloudsbreak.  They would exchange ideas and thoughts.  But as time grew, and more dreamers awakened, the Hall was too small.  The Dreamwrights began to expand.  They crafted their own world, their own city in the Dreaming.  And thus was formed the City of Underlight.

 

The second parchment copied, Bentis concealed his transcription in another of the volumes of soporific sermons written by a long dead abbot.  He flexed his cramped and chilled hands and left the dim scriptorium.

 

Spring planting intervened and it was weeks before Bentis again had the leisure to return to the scriptorium and continue his secret labors.

The city of Underlight was a wondrous place: the dreams of Cloudsbreak made into a reality.  A large land, where people could wander freely, meeting others they had never known before.   They had the ability to form their avatars in whatever shape they desired, and were able to become whatever they wanted to be.

 

The Dreamscape itself flourished.  Houses rose and fell.  From the chaos beyond the city walls, malevolent beings the tales called 'Nightmares' invaded, bringing fear and danger to the  dreamscape.  Great wars were waged between opposing factions and beliefs.  More and more dreamers achieved the awakening, and brought with them new ideas and sciences.  Civilization in both Underlight and Cloudsbreak flourished.

 

The Dreamers became valued people on their shards in Cloudsbreak.  They brought new ideas to their people, told wonderful tales of events on other shards and in the Dream.  Often, only one or two in a given shard would achieve the awakening.  As the main sources of knowledge and entertainment on their shards, they were treated with honor and respect.  Often they were not required to do everyday tasks, such as raising crops and doing chores.  Many societies would take care of them completely in exchange for the gifts the Awakened brought to them.

 

For most, the Dream quickly became more important to them than their lives on Cloudsbreak. They would lie in bed sleeping the majority of the day, waking only to clean and eat, and share news with those on their shard.  From lack of physical exertion, their bodies began to weaken,.  For some dreamers, merely getting out of bed itself became a chore.  They found themselves at the mercy of those around them, depending on them for life as the unawakened depended on them for information.

 

With a sigh of regret, Bentis rolled up the last tattered scrap of parchment.  He stared unseeing at the transcription for some moments, then dipped his quill again and began to write….

 

I have copied all that I have found of the history of the Dream.  The old, torn parchments had been concealed in the bindings of books in the monastery library.  My copies too will be hidden in the hope that one day someone else will find them and take up my search for the rest of the story.

 

No one now living knows what happened to the Dream and the Dreamers.  How did it happen that Dreamers were once the pampered elite of our society and are now feared and reviled?

 

All my life I have been cursed with the ability to Dream; to walk those empty halls, to see the proud Houses, the majestic rooms of Threshold, the closed and enigmatic Library of Souls.  Far from the throngs of noble lords and great ladies who once ruled and fought in the Dream, my fellow dreamers are few and as furtive as I have had to be. 

 

None of us knows the ending of the story.  Only that on all shards we know of, Dreamers are hunted and slain when found.  All of us have heard dark tales.  Some whisper that the Dreamers brought their wars home with them.  Some tell of famines and diseases caused by Dreamers.  Some claim that Dreamers ran mad and slew their Unawakened families and friends.  Some say that the Unawakened were driven mad with envy and slew the Dreamers in their midst. 

 

And so we have only dark whispers and rumors.  We dream rarely and in as much secrecy as we may.  We scavenge for scraps of tales and histories.  We trade our meager information and try to piece together a tale lost and suppressed by generations of fears.  We ...

 

….Bentis stiffened at the sound of the doorlatch and quickly shuffled his sheet of paper into the stack of sheets beside him.  When the door swung open, he was bent over a different sheet, devoutly recopying the deathless words of a long ago saint.