I recognized where I was before I had fully arrived there.
The dreamspace had its own particular quality—a stillness that was different from sleep, different from unconsciousness, carrying the specific texture of somewhere that existed just slightly outside the rules that governed everything else.
And she was there.
The white lady stood a short distance ahead, exactly as I remembered her—that luminous, colorless quality to her appearance that made her seem less like a person standing in light and more like a person made of it. Her features carried the subtle Starakian geometry I was now learning to recognize, though there were differences from Kunta that I couldn't have precisely articulated.
Well she was definitely more mature and older.
She was watching me with a small, patient smile, as if she had been waiting for exactly as long as she had expected to wait.
"I thought I wouldn't see you again," I said.
