Pyramid of the Dream Alchemist

I used to keep a small spaniel. It was my good friend. Then we had a large property in the country near the village, fenced around with a gray plaster wall eight meters high, which extends from the village fortifications. My dog curious little used to hunt small animals and smell excited along the perimeter of wall.One days he used his claws to break a hole in the plaster. I scold him over Strode, but before I could visit a horrible, shocking to behold: a pair of lynxes silent, almost identical, slinked through the hole and jumped on my dog as if they were tracking him.I broke into a run and chased from one of them muttered, bloated me up, threw a display fierce as I could gather. It worked. Lynx was intimidated and wrinkled unheard through the hole in the other came.The laughter was still on top of my dog. Strangely, I could not see even my beloved spaniel, eclipsing even the Predator was not great and he moved his body hardly golden. My cat domestic joined the fight, having
pounced on top of awkwardly laughed a betrayal of her heritage comics own cats: lynx not heeded. My cat could also have been a fly for all the good she did. Meanwhile I panicked and paced back and forth like an idiot, unable to organize anything, not my stupidity defense.Because of great tracking dog Stalker - Nation Lynx, who dropped the inhabitants of the realm of stellar - I was made that night of the underworld. It seems that these lynx were friends of God Fri hideous, Bacchus. They used to pull his chariot on the violence of noise orgiastic - the ones women Maenad Barbarian used to always break at some point pathetic young limbs, the broken their religious frenzy. With shudders of dread I used to hear cries of worship FROM \' in the distant forest. Shaking like a child, I would take heaps of green juniper wood fire in an attempt to cover the smoke and popping noises similar to those harpy witches noise \' screaming and singing bad pipeline goat Pan played their messy,
master.But horns after the wall was breached by the lynx's, I have caught. Who exactly do not know. Bound and hooded, I was borne on the shoulders of what appeared to be in the form of people, but very quietly and without compassion, because I moaned and cried as the reason why my hood to no avail and no response. They threw me in the bottom of the prison, or so I thought.Shaking of terror and cold under the hood, I cursed my dog through my tears at first - but how can I hate him? I could not. I would never see home again, that I was safe. However, my dog was innocent, guilty of no more than sheer madness. Or maybe he wanted to sacrifice. I hear stories such crazy old village women on the lips. It was said that there were about who would be crazy to give themselves over darkness outside, either because of or due to divine things wind whispered to them over their shoulders. Such insanity should be confiscated my poor dog that day, for all I know.But all was not as I thought.
For though they make fun of me and stab in my chest every day, with a dagger, they do real harm, as well as intentional liftings of my hood and their words they now tell me I am in the burial chamber, the room Maat in the Great Pyramid. Dragging me round and round like this, they tell me I am impure and unfit for remain.I know you know who I am. Indeed, I am dead, for all I was and everything I thought I knew is gone. However, some echoes here and tingles the back of my neck like a flutter in infancy: for this is what I call the pyramid of my dream \' alchemist \'! As a child, I was visited by a recurring dream, kaleidoscopic this very room - grand, torch-lit, and filled with terrible, strange gods, who guard the secrets of strange. Is real! To die like a dog? Or should I go abroad in sunlight, once again, as they do not know what?