Serenica had a visitor in her dream.
She was standing on a shore, staring directly into the sun. It didn't hurt her eyes.
"So, he found it out?" the voice of the Dreamer asked.
"He did?" Serenica turned to face him.
His long, straw-colored mane was flowing in the tropical wind. His cheeks looked even more hollow, his eyes more feverish than before. He was smoking one of those little tobacco rolls known as cigarettes.
Serenica craved one right now.
Apparently recognizing the lust in her eyes, the Dreamer offered her a single cigarette and a box of matches.
"I spied his dreams," he continued. "The boy did indeed tell him about the corna. Let's not talk about it now."
Serenica wanted to talk about the corna. It was a plant, a bush with leaves that had strongly invigorating and stimulating properties when properly fermented and chewed. Corna certainly was enough to keep someone awake for multiple days and nights. Serenica was furious that she hadn't thought of it herself.
