She dreams.

When she closes her eyes she dreams.

She sees choices made, their potential blossoming like a like the branches of a great tree. One becomes two becomes three becomes a number so large it blots out the stars in the sky until a tree stands before her shining a brilliant gold.

But she does not dream. she sees, for she is a creature of thought, of mind.

She sees.

Through the eyes of herself, she sees.

The shape of the universe makes itself seen, a bountiful garden of infinity and fate. The tree above looms in brilliant shine. From its branches drape silver vines, they float in the gentle breeze, draping gently on the flowerbed below.

Her thoughts begin to swirl into form.

She reaches.

With tactile thought she reaches, pulling the vines with curious intent. Above her the branches move, swaying with the tug on the vines. The flowers shift as the wind begins to blow, and the shape of the universe begins to change.

Revelation reaches out, touching her mind like dew on a leaf.

She understands.

She exists on every branch, the vines twisting around the thoughts that make up her form. Every branch a possibility, every branch a choice. Through her eyes she can see the fate of every decision, every action narrowing to a singular, unique point.

And so she makes a choice.

She acts.

When she wakes she remembers the branches, the choices. She is a creature of thought, intent swirling into action. Choices made and fates changed. The combinations flow like a gentle wind in front of here eyes.

So she turns thought to truth, and the future begins to narrow.