# The dreams this mod adds, on top of the game's own.
#
# One dream per block, blank line between blocks. Line breaks inside a block are kept,
# so a dream reads on screen the way it is written here. Lines starting with # are ignored.
# Edit this file and restart the game - nothing has to be rebuilt.

In my dream, a river
ran uphill, its waters singing
of roots and stone,
and green shoots turned into the earth.

Once again I ran
at the head of my warriors,
my father's axe heavy in my hand.
I woke with the war-cry still on my lips.

I sat beside a fire
in a great hall.
Familiar voices blurred like smoke.
Their names slipped away,
but the warmth remained.

I stood at the prow
of a leaping ship.
Salt spray. The shriek of gulls.
For a moment I remembered
the land of my birth.

A great tree reached
through the night.
One half of its branches
crackled with flame.
The others were green with leaves.

I ran through a meadow
under a sky of pale fire.
Hoofbeats thundered behind me.
When I turned,
nothing was there.

A hundred ghosts crowded
my bedside, seeking warmth.
Something thumped deep below.
They jumped like crumbs
on a drumskin and were gone.

I flew over the mountaintops,
all of Valheim spread below.
A great shape rose
and blocked the sun.
In the darkness it spoke: Seek me.

I lay on the battlefield,
eyes on a sky veiled by smoke.
Great talons slid beneath me
and I was lifted from my body
like a child from its crib.

Sleep is a river
and dreams are live fish.
I woke in the morning
with my net empty.

A mighty bear slept
deep below the earth
in the winter of the world.
Folds upon folds of flesh and fur.
Mercifully quiet.

The forest rose before me
like a cloak, hiding the stars.
At the mountain's peak,
vast antlers framed the moon.

In a chamber of golden drapes
I knelt before a veiled king.
Sleep is but a mask, he said,
and lifted the veil slowly.
I woke screaming.

I lay on my back in a meadow
gazing up at the clouds.
A warm hand was in mine.
In the dream I was laughing.
I woke with my face damp with tears.

On a boat of dark wood
I lay with arms folded.
Blurred faces crooned old songs
and pushed me out onto a sea
as black and flat as glass.

I dreamed of a bright hall
of warriors and fair maidens.
Song in the air, mead like water.
I awoke slowly
with the laughter still in my ears.

I hunted with my companions
over green hills and misty valleys.
Our prey stumbled.
I sank my teeth into warm flesh.
I woke with the taste of metal.

In a snowy wood I found
a naked child against a tree,
eyes closed, still breathing.
He had slept for centuries,
waiting. When I touched him,
we both awoke.

Dark-eyed Loki came to me
and gifted a ring for each hand.
Keep them on, he said,
and you will never hear
an insulting word again.
I woke with my fingers in my ears.

I climbed a winding stair
inside a tall tower
and looked out over
an endless forest.
Beneath the green waves,
dark shapes stirred.

Nine maidens in white
danced barefoot at midnight.
Nine wolves hunted a white hart.
Nine bells rang on the mountain.
Then I awoke.
