Sun Mote Copse And the sky is clear and bright

"Well, getting eaten by a bird certainly gives a twist on a more common "happily ever after"," Wraen remarked and smiled. Maia's way of story-telling was a lot different from hers, but she enjoyed it for it's simplicity and the storyteller's comments at various points as well. It made it colourful. 

"Speaking of butterflies, reminds me something mom told me and she had been told by..." she furrowed her brows, seeking for the right name. "People called Wind nomads, I think," she shrugged, not sure, if that was correct and having no one else to ask. "Anyway, interesting people, full of wisdom and an unorthodox view of life," she said. 

"So, there was once this great thinker of their's, whose name has escaped my mind, but - " and here she told a rather famous story by Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi - because, why not stretch the reality just a little more to enrich the story-telling realm and hear the second narrator's thoughts on the tale. 

"Once Zhuang Zhou dreamed he was a butterfly, a fluttering butterfly. What fun he had, doing as he pleased! He did not know he was Zhou. Suddenly he woke up and found himself to be Zhou. He did not know whether Zhou had dreamed he was a butterfly or a butterfly had dreamed he was Zhou. Between Zhou and the butterfly there must be some distinction. This is what is meant by the transformation of things."

"What do you think?" Wraen asked, when she had finished talking.

They talked for a while longer and then went to sleep. Funnily enough, Wraen's dreams that night featured butterflies. Thousands of them.

(from WikiQuote: https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Zhuangzi )