Prompt

A single, selfreplicating tendril of solidified starlight emerges from the center of a vast, still ocean composed entirely of compressed, unrecorded dreams from a civilization that communicated through the temperature of unlit constellations. The tendril does not growit unfolds, its crystalline structure branching outward like a fractal tree of forgotten constellations, each node shaped like the negative space between two eyes that never gazed at the same sky, pulsing with the faint, infrared afterimage of a dream that was almost remembered. The ocean is not waterit is a layered expanse of petrified night, each wave etched with the emotional residue of a sleep that never came, its surface shimmering

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