The Forest comes to us in dreams, in whispers. The Forest is in us.
J Damask, Wolf at the Door
Consider also:
- “My muscles flexed and movement was a joy, a dance. The wind was whispering against my face. I am wolf.”
- “All of Austin’s ambitions, his hopes and dreams for the future, drowned in the fear that he would never escape this forest.”
- “Fleet of foot, I ran in the dream. My paws flew, chasing elusive deer hide. My nose smelled deer, on top of a multitude of smells.”
- “Dreams are without proportion, without good sense, without truth; so also is consciousness.”
- The Forbidden Forest
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