The Path of Kane
Your dreams have been troubled of late.
In the smoky haze of slumber, the black man beckons to you. He is wrinkled and stooped with age, but his strange serpentine eyes seem to glow with a hidden power in the glimmer of his small fire. Silently he gestures to you, bidding you to sit with him – to share his secrets, all the while the drums sing to you in the primal language of the earth.
You awake as always, amidst dampened, crumpled sheets, possessed of a terrible wanderlust. Your eyes seek out the eastern horizon, where the promise of dawn is just beginning, and the echo of drums ring in your ears like a lover’s heartbeat.