To Dream Within a Dream

What you can remember. She had said to Quinn to see what they could remember. It both confirmed that lingering thought, that suspicion that there was something they should have remembered, there were thoughts there that were past experiences coming back, explaining their knowledge of things they could not have known, and their disturbance and not knowing things that it felt like they should have. But it only begged more questions as well. If they were supposed to try to remember, what all had they forgotten, and why? The last of the Prismermine vanished in all directions of the heavens, and Quinnsing felt an odd note of... nostalgia? Wistfulness? Watching them vanish.

It was like seeing a dream slip away, and Quinnsing held to the memory of them thoughtfully, wondering why they seemed to resonate. Was it similar to something they had known, or was it simply the sight of another life, something given shape and purpose in the world, while they remained but a shapeless blob, still trying to find what brought them here and what they were supposed to accomplish here.

She had said she admired their ability to find beauty in them, but Quinnsing found it hard not to. In a land of sand and blobs, a land still waiting to be filled with something, still incomplete, they were fully developed creatures, soaring past in sparkles of gems and grace. Quinnsing slowly, finally, nodded to acknowledge the giant woman's statement. They were not sure whether talking to others would grant them much use yet, but that she might need rest was understandable. So they were indeed a god of some sort, but not an all powerful one. It was an interesting concept, and as they considered where to go next, hearing the weariness in her voice and realizing it was time for the moment they part ways with her, they realized it still kept coming around to the same question in a way.

What then, was Quinnsing? Were they a piece of divine? They must have a purpose. What could it be though? What were they supposed to remember? What were they supposed to dream of? Could they shape the world too, or were they only there to bear witness? They seemed to lack any sort of appendages with which to interact, any sort of form which could properly enjoy the world. But then again, the world also lacked much of anything to enjoy as well. It was a blank slate.

Perhaps that was the point. Everyone was a blank canvas, to be shaped upon. Was the world to paint them, or they the world? Or would this woman paint them all? Were they just at her mercy though, or did they have autonomy of their own? She seemed to want Quinn to go out, to remember something. Remember what though? Was there something important locked away there, in their memories? A lost piece of the puzzle? Or was it an idle statement? Questions upon questions, with no real way to answer them. It left many an idea, many a thought, and many an unanswered puzzle, as options, possibilities, and thoughts spread before Quinnsing. They still couldn't shake the odd dream-like feeling with which they had first woken, yet if they were not asleep surely, there must be a purpose here, and if they were, then there must be a reason to dream of this.

That I might shape the world in my claws.

Quinnsing hummed to themselves, eyes closing a moment in consideration and thought. Perhaps they could find answers to some of these questions, and piece together their own puzzle then, lacking in options for answers beyond trying to ask the woman further. She was weary for the moment though, and seemingly bereft of strength and power. So it was now theirs to make do with on their own... and with their fellow shapeless peers.