Horus stands before a set of incredibly large scales.
In his hands he his holding two Egyptian hieroglyphs; I do not know their meaning.
The one in his left hand: a sort of crooked staff, facing left.
In his right hand: the shape was a sort of bowl; it looked like the bottom slice of a circle.
And, somehow and at the same time, the symbol in his right hand was an actual heart; he was holding it in his hands.
He holds it out towards me. He gestured me with his head.
He bid me to eat it.
I take the heart into my hands.
It is golden, glowing, emitting and oozing a kind of sludgy, dripping golden elixir; the swish and swash of it seemed to be moving in a clockwise, circular motion.
He looks at me, and stares. I see the anticipation in his eyes at what I will do (and if I’ll actually do it)
I feel hope and anticipation rise and swell somewhere in my stomach.
I pause, and hesitate.
What do I need in order eat this?
“Do you wish to proceed?” Horus asks.
“Yes,” I say.
And I eat the heart.