Some Odd Angle to This World

It lay, I knew, at some odd angle to this world. It was there waiting for me, I had seen its high towers through the morning mists. I had glimpsed the road I would have to take to cross the old stone bridge over the river that separated this world from that, but only if I could find the key that would open the door to that world that lay waiting.

I had tried to conjure it with visions, with imaginings and with dreams, but always it lay just beyond my reach, shimmering into view, its mists clearing to reveal the far high towers and then closing again as the world slipped back away to its own dimension.

There were times when I tried to live in this world, dismissing my far world as some dream, as some fantasy that existed only in my mind and should be put away as just another childish daydream. I felt I had to create a life here, not wait for my life to begin amongst those far mist-enshrouded towers.

It was then that she came to me in my dreams; telling me the stories of those far towers and the route I would have to take down that road and across the bridge to get to them. She told me that she would be there, in the highest tower, waiting, waiting just for me, and I should hurry and go to her before it was too late and the door to that realm closed on me forever.