April 2, 2014 § Leave a comment
In the dream there are dice. Three black dice with silver spots, sat in a silver bowl. They blur and then stop, landing as each requires.
One is one, the group in itself, and in the whole is strength.
One is four, each party alone, and in the pieces is change.
One is six, their fulfilment, and in this end is a beginning.
All are eleven, the duke of numbers, which holds only itself in itself and no brooks other. And so in the dream there’s a dream-tale of a leader, with his party, set out on a path to the House of Ruin. And so the dice are cast, the scene is set.