[Nehetsrev]

Month of the high sun, 1434

I , Treana Min Poetr, have fallen into a long dream. I do not wish to awake for I fear that all the kindness that my Danael bestows wilst fade as all dreams do.

The date sounds odd written that way, doesn't it? But that's how I told myself to write it... well, how the Danael here in this dream told me to write it. He also told me to write about how I'm dreaming, and all that up there in those first words. Don't know why I'm bothering to write in this dream-journal anyhow... I'll wake up and they'll whip me again, and when I fall back asleep I'll be in a different dream and this probably won't even be here.

Augra, 1434

There, that's better. Is it really already Augra though? Last time I wrote in this, well, in my real journal it was Apreal. Anyhow, Dream-Danael here is telling me "Month of the High Sun" is how his mentor, Jack, called it when they herded sheep together. Funny how my brain makes up things like this Jack person to fill in gaps in the things I don't know about. I can't imagine my Danael being a shepherd ever. Or, well, I guess I can, since I'm dreaming it.

Dream Danael wants me to write about the day I was captured. Why would I want to write about that? Is there something in that memory that my brain's tryin' to tell me that might help me get out of here? Oh, no, Dream-Danael is asking about whether I fought against my captors. So, I guess my brain's telling me to keep fighting. I'm tired of fighting though, and I'm smart enough to know I'll never get out of here alive. Who would come and face these darkelves for the sake of one silly woman who got herself enslaved? Now he's asking if I have been able to keep track of time. How can I? There's no sky, only darkness here, and the whippings don't seem to come on any schedule.

I think I'll be auctioned off soon. I've heard the other slaves whispering that they think I have nice skin. I don't see how they can think that with the way my backs been torn to shreds by the whips.

I'm tired of writing in this dream.