A dream is a story you'll write later

[brightrosefox]

This is a dream I had last night; what I could remember. It's one of the first scenes of the future third novel in my head. Naturally it doesn't make much sense, but it does to me, so I'll explain if people want. I'm posting it here because it made me wake up crying. I want someone to remember it with me so I can write and edit it later.

They went back when the fields were green again.
"Tell me about the Age of Never Forget," said the boy.
On the hill, the grandfather slowed, but didn't look back. "You dreamed again?"
"Ashes," the boy whispered. "I saw it carved in a broken wall. Who were they? What would they never forget?"
The old man turned this time, his stick clinging to earth as it spun. "It was nine hundred years ago today. That's why you saw. It was the first forever day."
"The books don't talk about it."
"They don't remember. The astral portals closed a hundred years ago. No one can go back."
"Not even you?"
He closed his eyes. "No. But I remember from my ghosts. They were there. They died there. They call it Zero."
"Did they fly the metal birds?"
"No!" Grandfather's eyes snapped open. "The metal birds crashed into twin towers that imploded and burned thousands of us. Why did you dream? You have no ghosts."
The boy looked at the earth. She looked back. "Mother told me. She remembers."
The old man opened his mouth, closed it, sighed. "You are her only blood. She would do that. But this is not her memory; she shouldn't have showed you. Did you see Thanatos and Dream?"
"No, Grandpa. Only Gaia. The Dreamer was at the edges but she kept me safe. I saw the piece of the wall. Can we go there?"
The grandfather stared at the horizon and started down the other side of the hill. "We are there, boy."
"No," the boy said. "Can you take us astrally? To the city?"
"Little Wolf," Grandfather said quietly, still looking ahead, "this is the city. This is the immortal city where the forever days began. Nine hundred years of gaia and thanatos have rebuilt us. I cannot take you back. You wouldn't want to see. It's enough that your mother let you dream it and not the rest of us."
"I am her only human offspring; don't I get a right?"
The old man smiled at the sky. "What human ever gets the right to petiton one of the Incarnations? Privilege, yes. Maybe some day when you're older you can go back. But not today. However," and he reached back for his grandson's hand and pulled him close, "look there." Half a mile beyond the hill was a wide, brown field. It was filled with blue and white immortal roses.
"There," the man said, "the grounds of Zero."
Dream was in the boy's eyes and he saw ashes and fire again. "I guess we should go home," he said.
"No," said the man. "We'll continue our walk until it's done."
They went left past the hill. In the boy's head, the dream turned to shadow and was gone before he had time to forget it.