Got to sleep after a small anxiety attack linked to last year training period. Didn't have a nightmare about it thankfully, but instead of hypnalogic imagery I got auditory hallucinations that made me get back up to check the house's doors. I am a FBI agent working in the BAU with the Criminal Minds team. Garcia is showing us a amateur video shot in night mode (everything is in green shades and we cas seen the flashlight halo) from her lair, so her voice is rolling other the video but she's not with us. It's a video sent by a unknow suspect and everyone is on edge. We can see an corridor the unsub is walking in, he is inside a small house or a appartement with light-colored walls and tilded floors. they stop in front of a light-colored plastic-looking door with two long panel of frosted glass. The camera is aimed pretty low, and when the door open we can see the legs and feet of a soaked wet woman. Her legs are chubby and she's wearing hight-heeled, sparkly sandals and her toesnails look painted. We can faintly hear rain. The camera pan slowly up to revel that the woman is Garcia, who look out of breath and disheveled, then the video is cut. Everyone react in horror and we hear Garcia gasping. Later, I'm going undercover in the mafia. I am with the leader of this particular branch, dressed to the nine in a short, tight silk dress in deep red and a pair of styletto, my hair in a complicated bun doted with shininhs gems high on my head, and the man I'm being all arm candy for is in a sharp charcoal suit and is cultivating his ressemblance with anthony Hopkins. We're in a anonymous room, sitting around a cheap round table, though he is sitting in a velvet and dark wood chair and smoking a cigar. An other man with dark hair and slightly chinese features is with us, in a crumpled suit and nervous behaviour. the mafia leader is interviewing him about his entry in the group. After a little conversation, the candidate is accepted. I hand him a pen and a pile of contracts he have to sign while the mafia leader take his almost finished cigar off his mouth and cut of the chewed on tip to hand the still smoldering other bit to the man. He have to place it on the webbing between his tumb and his other fingers and press down hard, as a final test of passage. Interestingly, I don't have anyburn marks on my hands; I'm clearly a secretary/pretty thing and nothing more for the leader. Man that dress was pretty. Barely-covering-my-croch level of short, but pretty.
I'm walking through a house in a pretty dress. I have really long hair reaching to my lower back. It's soft and curled. I feel beautiful.
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