Wake now child
In the middle of the night
The edges of your mind
Have grown a little wild


Jocelyn went back into the house and slipped out of her damp nightdress into a clean, dry one. Thankfully the Chateau de Rochefort and all within it continued to slumber unawares of the comings and goings of she and her friend, Azazeal. Perhaps it was her wards, or his. She was not certain which and it really did not matter. Her body still was piqued and tingled with the newfound sensations she had experienced in the garden. But now, strangely, she was ready to sleep, ready to dream. Crawling between the sheets, her head had barely hit the pillow when she felt overwhelmingly tired. Was it Azazeal's spell already, perhaps? She closed her eyes and consciously slowed her thoughts, going deeper in her mind, and descending the imaginary stairway into the Realm of Dreaming.
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