For millennia, It had slumbered.
It had no name to speak of; not one that could be heard by mortal ears. Besides, It had no need for one - no one had ever seen It, and no one ever would.
And so, It slumbered alone, just as unware of the world around It as the world was of It. And as It slept, It dreamed.
It dreamed of the cold empty blackness of space; a never-ending expanse of inky void that all things originated from and all things would eventually return.
It dreamed of a tiny sphere in this great emptiness; a precious little thing of blue and green warmed by a golden sun. It was a fleeting thing, utterly insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but for some reason, Its dreams focused on the sphere.
It dreamed of life inhabiting the sphere; tiny specks compared to itself, but life nonetheless, coming in all shapes and sizes.
It dreamed of extinctions, testing the specks of the sphere and tempering it like steel in a forge; the mighty died in droves, but the small and meek