And during this time when Ottala was watching and waiting, what did Swan dream?
Submerged in his hypersomnia, unable to move or speak, he dreamed of Ottala living beside his sleeping body. He dreamed of the pain and anguish she felt. He dreamed of her thoughts and her hunger. His astral spirit rushed nervously about and observed her with rapt attention. He saw how she lay naked on the cold concrete, and he wished, more than anything, to be able to reach out and warm her with his hand. When she sat and stared across the water, he knew she longed for her home. He felt everything she felt. He thought everything she thought. He could feel her loneliness, and he suffered along with her inside his lucid dreams.
In this bleak place, even here, he knew that Ottala, always so clairvoyant, could sense his love, even as it was held captive by his dream. He also knew how she watched him. He saw her face, radiant with affection, beaming up at him. And by reading her expression he saw how her love flowed towards him too. And if there was any gap in how each understood the other, it occurred only because of these strange circumstances. It only came about because of the harshness of the world in which they were born, and he knew there was nothing they could have done to change the things that transpired in any way.
As he watched how she coped with living in this barren place, he strained to remember the reason they’d come here. He tried to recall by what conveyance they’d traveled. He wanted so much to comfort her and allay her fears, but of course he could not. His dreaming mind was mute. It had no voice. It was detached from the workings of his body.
In his dream, he watched as she climbed to the high point of his shoulder. And then he saw her rush down the slope of his blanket and plunge into the water. This terrified him more than anything and his heart pounded inside his sleeping body. His dreaming mind spun back and forth as it scanned the sullen lake. Imprisoned in his dream, it was impossible to shout a warning. All he could do was wait for her to swim back to him…. He waited. Where had she gotten to?
He’d slept too long! He could not wake up. He’d lost control of his dream.
The smart money's on her crawling back inside his mouth. Kind of like a warm bath. Maybe yank on his uvula— sort of like an old-time door ringer. That would surely wake him up!