As you place your hand upon the indentation upon the door, you feel strange. The indentation upon the door feels…familiar. As if you have placed your hand upon it before. And even then, when you first placed your hand here, the stone was old.
You feel a sudden wind whirl around you. A gush of hot, dry, desert air. You look about and can see an assembled multitude. A thousand people, maybe more, have gathered to see you place your hand here.
As you stare about, you recognize the people watching you. You see relatives. Ancestors that have gone by. Parents, grandparents, great-grandparents…. Each of these relatives living or dead, even if you have never met them, stare at you from the crowd. Each one of these people meets your eyes. It is a long, long line of people that stretches as far back as history. And it is then that you realize there is no other person who can take up your appointed task.
From the chorus of standing figures, you see a slender, dark-skinned woman approach you. Her eyes are large and deep, like a well. Her neck has a swan-like beauty to it. She says only this:
“My children. My children’s children. All those who have come before you. We have long awaited. Awaited Your Coming in White. Every moment we have fought for. Everything we have ever done has been so that you could stand here at this moment. Now, you must lay aside that which you once were and become Who You Were Born to Be.”
The entire weight of destiny and the world now rides upon your shoulders.