Early the next morning, Hyperion awoke abruptly and realized the night had not yet fled the encroaching day. Darkness bathed the room in the pre-dawn hours. He sat up and tried to get his bearings. He had been in some kind of wonderful dream where gold drizzled from heaven. He had gleefully run through it, reveling in the beautiful rain. Now, peering through the glass window, he could see the sky was overcast, hiding the moon and the stars. Not a gold piece in sight.
Although Hyperion could not recall a more vivid dream, he could not remember all of the details. He was sure gold had been falling. Somehow, however, the coins made no sound either in the air or when they hit the ground. He had seen fields filled with gold, all within his reach. It seemed so real. A god was sending him a mess
