In conversation with a Seeker

I had another dream. A great storm was brewing. I could hear it more than see it. The wind shook the panes of the windows protecting me from its wrath. That was it: wrath, anger, destruction - pure Malice. Then it changed, becoming something altogether new and different, wrapping me in its embrace. And as I opened my eyes, leaves fell around me. Golden brown spirals drifting in a miasma. What was this contradiction? What did it mean? The leaves formed another shape. I couldn't help but think of October.

The Worldbuilder

My colleague and trusted friend, more like a brother to be frank - but that isn't truly relevant to this project. Let's just call him "The Worldbuilder" for the sake of brevity. He is a man with intricate knowledge of the world. Its histories, politics, conflicts and resolutions. A master weaver in escapism and a metalsmith. 

Naturally, all conversations about existentialism and other broad concepts must be discussed with a drink in hand, but we barely sipped as I told him about what I’d been seeing. He promised to conduct his own research; these symbols buried deep in his memories, he was sure he’d seen them somewhere before.

I’m starting to think there’s something supernatural at work here but maybe that’s just my imagination running wild.

But, hypothetically, if there was such an event on the horizon, what does it mean for us? What could save us?