by Kaspar Hauser
Paperback | Available through Amazon
Few are those who tread the Dreamlands of the Earth, but fewer still those who return with something more than a wistful tale.
For years, Kaspar Hauser had a series of recurring dreams in which he carefully copied the contents of a book dedicated to Gods long since slumbering in the world we know. Gods with names like Thedeccan. Kemem. Azathoth.
This is that book.
The title page bore but one legible word: Eidolon.
I had no idea at the time why this word should terrify me so. On subsequent nights, and intermittently for nearly five years, other dreams followed. In some, I was a medieval scribe with quill and knife, copying a text; in others I was in the tower again, reading.
In one dream, near the end of the five years, I was a hunted fugitive, fleeing the tower and a ravening pack of unearthly hounds while clutching to my breast one of the large books. In the course of these five years, I wrote down everything I could remember.
(from the Introduction)
