I dreamt I was a giant again, standing sentinel at the world's edge where the sea breathes its last sigh upon the shore. My feet, anchored in the wet, glittering sand, were the only real things in a world of golden haze. Each toe was a declaration, a small crimson rebellion against the fading light. Far down the beach, other figures, small as scattered pebbles, walked the same line between water and land, their journeys distant echoes of my own. The sun bled into the water, silhouetting the sleeping mountains as I stood ankle-deep in the cool, receding memory of the day, feeling the weight of the sky on my shoulders and the pull of the tide in my bones.
