Waking up short of breath, I dreamed I was Hildegard von Bingen, who outsmarted a female demon robed in the bone-white garments of death. Stealthily exiting from behind my small fortress wall, I could see her, but she could not see me; I had frustrated her well. Waiting for me was a darkened, stone nunnery cell, but when I entered it became light and beautiful and full of good things. I entered and I lived a milenia there, and I did not die, because the little cell became a pathway unto The World, and The World was with me while I overcame my heart’s loneliness. A thousand years later I emerged from the cell into a world that was waiting for me in whispers. So many stones had fallen around me, a sea of small rocks. Bear tracks, huge and clearly present: I saw them, and followed them to where awaited an violent, small wolf, rabid with anger and pain. He lunged at me. I deflected him; he lunged again, I caught him, held his small self as his little body surrendered in howling tears, now loosening and reaching for comfort, the curse dispelled, a loving puppy once more.