Early in the morning, Ryan woke with a start. Staring blankly at the familiar ceiling above him, he let out a soft sigh. He had the usual dream again.
It was a very strange dream, one he had been having ever since he had come of age. The strangest part was that no matter how hard he tried, he could never remember what the dream was actually about. The moment he woke, its contents would disappear from his mind like mist.
But the feeling it left behind always remained.
There was a deep sense of loss, accompanied by a strange sadness that seemed to creep into his bones and chill his very soul. He could never explain where it came from or why it affected him so deeply, but every time he woke from that dream, the emptiness was there.
His grandmother had been so worried about him that she had consulted numerous shamans and priests over the years, hoping someone could find a remedy. Yet nothing had worked. No ritual, prayer, or medicine could stop the dreams from returning.
