Dreamstone Sagas
That night, Jon found himself in bed, once again staring at the stone in his hand and contemplating the possibilities it represented. He'd hardly been able to think of anything else all day; how could he? It was an omnipotent wish-granting stone for crying out loud! It could be such a blessing or such a curse, and all that separated the two was a slip of the tongue!
Jon sighed. Cerebrally, he knew the safest and probably smartest thing to do with the stone was nothing at all, at least for now; no one person should even have that kind of power, much less use it if they weren't totally ready. But even disposing of the rock would be something he'd have to handle carefully, and... any wish? Could he bring himself to pass that up? Should he?
Jon lay back down in some frustration. He was going in circles, and he knew it. Nothing productive was going to come from just thinking about the stone any more than he already had that day. He needed to break that cycle and do something with the stone, darn it! But what should that be...?
Naturally, Jon's thoughts started going in circles again, as they had all day. For the hundredth time each he called to mind Karyn, and Sarah, and his grandfather, and his own inner fantasies, and the greater good, and the stone, and just, everything; his mind kept whirring and whirring and whirring all night, until at last Jon simply got tired and dozed off, stone still in hand.
This was a mistake.
Jon was about to learn something important about himself: he talks in his sleep. With the stone still clutched in his hand, and the vivid dreams produced by all that day's restless worries running wild through his sleeping mind, Jon started to mutter. "I... I wish..."
