There is a dirty old bum on a crutch. I try to avoid eye contact but he is moving in, `he is going to ask me for money or something�.

He is not as old as he seemed at first. It is the dirt and rags. The greasy hair was red before the dirt and his skin was at one time freckled beneath the coating of scum. His crutch is hand made of a tree branch and padded with old rags tied about with string.

He shoves the stump on his right arm into my face. The hand has been cut off at the wrist and is nothing but scar.

My vision pulls in tight close-up on the stump and it fills all of my vision. There is something strange here. The bones, the radials, are moving back and forth and pulling at each other. The vibrations increase, one bone pulling at the other. There is a soundless ripping as the skin between the lower arm bones tears in fibrous separation changing into the two fingered hand of a lizard.

My view pulls back to a mid shot of the Lizard King, still smoking from his transformation. I know who he is without being told. I can feel his power and his age.

This is my introduction to this being of the higher planes. He is very old and always crippled in his forms.

NOTE: This is the beginning of a dream cycle in which I will encounter the Lizard King and many other of the Gods of DreamTime.