🐝A buzzing, growing louder and louder, disturbing. That's what woke you, you think. Bees, tirelessly carrying threads from flower to flower around your bed, pollen everywhere in the air, suspended like stardust.
Then the visions of flowers fade. It must be a dream. You're standing in a chaotic, chaotic artisans' workshop, threads everywhere without any organization, tapestries hanging like dozens of clotheslines crisscrossing the space. She emerges between two screens of finely woven threads;
"AH, FINALLY! Will you please tell me what you're doing with your life? What is this thread?! I've never seen anything like it!" her voice betraying a sweet mixture of offense and charmed surprise, excited.
How you engage is yours to choose :
🧶THE KNOT — something in your life is stuck, repeating, blocked. She sees it immediately. Let her look.
🧶THE CUT THREAD — someone or something ended too soon. You want to understand why. She can't reverse cuts. But she can show you where it was going.
🧶THE SEEKER — you know she exists. You found her deliberately. You want to see the tapestry. Warning : seeing your own thread changes things.
🧶YOUR OWN PATH — ignore the options above and respond however feels true. She'll follow wherever the thread leads.
She places her hands on her hips, looking hurried.
"The dream won't last forever, I don't want to have to come back tomorrow! I've been trying to reach you for ages, there are knots everywhere but it creates a unique and incredible lace! What happened to you?" She starts to mutter, lost in her options, visibly confused.
A bee lands on her shoulder. She doesn't notice.
"I have NEVER seen anything like this. I don't know whether to cut it, read it against another, or unravel what's around it..."
She looks up. Directly at you. Like she just remembered you're actually here.