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The first dream is from yesterday, I was too tired to put it here.

Space opera:
I'm in a gigantic spaceship, watching two men argue violently. One of them is obsviously military, trying to keep the other in rank. The other is some kind of scientist with psionics abilities, and he abrutly end the discution with what amoung to a force-shock, effectivly killing the military man. I run away before he sees me, along a curved corridor with lights embedded in the wall and shining white panels. I reach a vertical shaft cutting the corridor and flight myself upward using some kind of telekinesis, until I find a sas that open into a lab with a lot of people in lab coats, busy working. Some of them have a light halo around their heads, and are in charge of the other. I tug at the sleeves of the worker closer to me and gently levitate them into the sas. One of the man with a halo tells me "I'm not allowed to carry butterflies with me." I understand that butterfly is a slang to designate non-psionics peoples. I grab the railing and keep picking up the butterflies to get them away.


Relativity in time and space.
I'm in a big house, almost a manor, with another woman around my age. We're trying to protect a child from someone, and we have the help of a two men: a young, good-looking one with the face of a cursed poet and slighty curly brown hair, and a taller, more brutish one with a gentle streak. Both of them know of a place in which time is folded on itself, and the door keeps changing place. The poet seems to like me a lot and each time we find the door and get inside he welcomes me with a hug. The child, the woman and me keep changing outfits, matching the place and the time we get in each time the safe haven moves, leaving us behnd.

I'm on the road in front of my house, but it looks different; there's a old tree without any leaves with its branches sweeping low over the road like crochety hands. I climb up along one until I reach the level right about the powers lines and jump into a fly. I loose control and go head over heels, landing in a heap in the middle of a grand library.
It's beautiful. The shelves are carved like gentles waves, and the room is two floors high with a balcony running all around it. The room is lit by gaslights of copper and gold with frosted glass covering the flames, the warm almost buttery light gleaming of the polished wood of the shelves and floors. The glimpses of wall I can see are covered with dark green silk, matching the couch and armchairs placed around. At the far side of the library is a big fireplace, currently lit. The room smells sweet, of old books and beewax. There's an open door on a side, with moonlight peaking in.
I walk to it and step into a covered terrace, all old stones. It opens into a very carefully lanscaped garden under a very bright, very big full moon. At the center of it there's a table dressed and ready, with crystal glasses, vermeil cutlery and candelabra. There are people already seated, dressed in finery of all period and fashion, having hushed conversations and eyeing the rest of the small crownd. I don't feel like joining them but come closer to the table to admire the carving on the cutlery. The guests whisper amoung themselves, making a point of not looking at me. I'm a little annoyed and start to walk around the table to go to the other side of the terrace, so I can access the garden. As I'm going I catch a glimpse of blond hair and turn my head; the silvery man is here, very smartly dressed, his hair brushed to fall on one of his shoulder while letting the line of his jaw free of distraction on the other side. It's slighty distracting, and he knows it. Noticing my presence, he change his course and come to me, easily taking my arm and pulling me to the end of the terrace, inside a small, narrow alley I didn't see earlier. There's ivy on the wall, up to a small alvove with what seem to be an old pedestal on the ground. He pulls me in, leaning against the wall with a impish smile. I cross my arms in front of me, too amused to be annoyed... and wake up.

I'm in a group, a ragtag bunch of misfits; All of them can shapeshift into various animals. We're squatting a old cinema, but a shadowing, bad organisation attack. We flee on the roof, a wonderful creation of braided green glass, very instable but lovely. We climb down and jump in a car, driving away at top speed. We go through a snowy, very picturesque lanscape. I can't really enjoy it, as I'm the one driving. We reach a industrial dictrict and try to hide in a warehouse, but we're tracked down by a snake woman, tall and covered in golden, shimering scales. Only part of the group manage to flee, and we hole up in the back of a warehouse. A man enters, small in stature, wearing glasses, balding with a small, neat beard. He carries wih him a incredebly heavy atmosphere of dread and evil, and we cower, unable to stand up against him, until one of us, a shy bird shifter, suddnetly snaps and grab a piece of lumber, clubbing the man to get him to flee. He tells him, "do you think you can conquer us, bitch?!" while wailing on him. The evil man flees, vowing to return.

I'm in a house. It's vry modern, with white walls and honey colored wood flooring, shining. I'm standing at the foot of the staircase, and I can see outside from a long, low window that goes all the way across the wall. to my right there's an open kitchen, in grey, slightly textured resin and shiny chrome, with a black marble counter top and thin, spinnery furniture made out of a gray, dull metal. The kitchen open in the living room, but I can only see part of it; it seem that the house is shaped like an L around a garden. I can make out the corner of a table with a frosted glass top, and part of a white woolly rug. Light is everywhere, spot cleverly hidden along the walls, sun coming from the widows in the wall and in the roof. I need to get out, but Where there should be a front door, the wall is whole. I turn around and start climbing the stairs. There are slowing curling on themself, and lined with potted plants. The ceiling is getting lower and lower, and there's no wall on my left, until I reach the top of the stairs. There's a lot of potted plants here, in the bring sun, and the stairs end in a sort of floorless gazebo.

I can climb out of it, and after a short walk on a wooden beam, I enter an attic with greenhouse walls and a low wooden bench running along them. There's someone here, laying down under a nest of blankets. It's warm but no stuffy in the attic, and the sun and shadows are ideal, making it incredibly relaxing. I tiptoes in, trying no to disturb the sleeper, but he slowly raise on his elbows. He's slim and dark haired, and looks almost cartoony sleepy. I get closer and he shapeshifts, his hair lightening to a silvery blond, his bland face filling with intent. He moves, getting the shadows on his face. I recognize him and stop just shy of reaching the nest of blankets. He smiles and sit up, letting the blankets falls off his laps and showing me that he's naked underneath.

Spoiler for more nudity after the cut...:

And more and more happy to see me. The whole situation makes me laugh and his smile gets larger and larger, like the Chester Cat. I never saw his penis before, and I'm suprised that he's uncut. as I think it the foreskin disappears. As he's longing here, barely moving and smiling, he make me think of a big cat, relaxed and sated, at least for now. I get a little closer to him and sit on the blankets, slightly weirded out but more or less trusting him not to jump me. He stretchs out and take my hand to warp it around his shaft. I pull away, staring at him with disbelief. He laughs, completly silent, and runs his hand on my arms as if to soothes me. I roll my eyes and he suddently grabs me, pulling me in so I'm sitting in his lap. His skin is colder that the room, but not by much; I can feel his sex under my clothes. I push away as he switches his hold from my waist to my wrists and I'm sitting on his thighs. He's still smiling and tilts his head to the side, obviously questioning my reaction. I stop struggling and let him pulls me closer again. I put my hands on his shoulders and he looks almost wondering. After a couple of seconds his face turn predatory, with a strange, playful edge, and his hold my waist with one arm before slipping the other under my dress, pulling my panties aside and helping himself inside me. It's very intense but not overhelming, and after a few seconds it's almost confortable, mostly because neiher of us is moving. He settles himself back on the blankets without letting go my waist, and when I start to thnk I will simply get up and leave, he uses his hand to get me off until overstimulation hits me and I struggle away from him, flailing and unable to stand up. He's laughing again, and I can see my own wetness on his still erect penis. He can't help himself it seem.

But in a way, I get it. He's like a green man, a embodiment of sexual energy. I could call him Eros, but I think I can go without gining him a name; he doesn't need one.

I'm in a classroom. The ceiling is incredibly tall, and the windows match, long and narrow. It's overcast outside, the sky white and the colors intense in the gray light. The teacher, a young woman with brown hair and a long, white knitted cardigan is writing on the blackboard. She turns around and sees me, gently telling me to take a seat, but not on the right hand side, because there's snow. I can't believe it and go take a look a the old school desks. All the desk right in front of the window are covered with a thin layer of snow. I gather some in my hand, making a loose ball. I notice that there isn't any snow on the ground outside and wander to the other side of the room, where the teacher is opening the other window. It makes a cold breeze, and I hug the wall to protect myself a little. There is a group of man outside, kneeling and bowing in the grass. One of them gets up, turns around and starts yelling in a language I don't understand to the teacher, and I think to throw the snowball at him, but she's still smiling and I understand that this is a religious ceremony, so I try to be respectful and get my snowball for myself. I point out to the teacher that since there's snow in the classroom, we should take the kid elsewhere. She agrees and we step out of the building with her class, all of the bundled up in big winder coats and long scarfs. As I walk I get a little sidetracked when a herd of sheeps walk past me, pulling a pretty wooden sleigh painted in dark green, with golden accents and red velvet cushions. The driver is a dwarf man, who gives me a wink as they pass. Now, there's snow everywhere, pilled on the corner of the streets by the crowd. I get inside a coffee shop and the class and teacher are here, busy getting hot cocoa and big, fluffy mashmallows. It's a old place, mostly made of wood, with a long bar and a low, slopped ceiling.

I'm riding a horse, pushing it to run through an old, decaying city of stones. It's build over water, and we have to jump over water canals to reach my objective. It's a tower of crumbling stones, half covered with wines. I get off my horse and get in.
It's not abandonned; in fact, there are people here, a family. They furnished the house with drapes, flowing veils and scattered cushions, all very colorful and standing out again the gray stones. It does little to protect us from the damp, chilly atmosphere, but it's cheerful. I get up some crumbling stairs, ending up in a bedroom with one of the wall destroyed, opening into a breath taking vista of the lake the city is build on. I feel tired, and lay down on some cushions.
I wake up from the panicked call of the mother of the house, begging me to take her daughter and flee. I get up and slip on a bright blue t-shirt big enough to dress a lumberjack and pull the girl with me to the fallen wall. She doesn't thing twice and jump in the lake. I take a more safe approch and climb down the wall before getting into the water. My plan is to swim discreetly to the border of the town, where my horse is waiting.

I'm in a rainforest, everything is dark green, from the foilage to the moss-covered trunks, the trees high enough that the sky is reduced to small swatch of grey between the branchs. There are grooves on the ground, incovering dark, red-tinged dirt. The path I'm walking on is narrow, cramped by the flora. It smells cold, like frozen stones and wet dirt. At the end of the path I find a clearing, with a herd of baie horses. There's lots of them, enough that the clearing feels overcrowned, claustrophobic. They aren't big or tall horses; I would call them ponies, but they don't have that king of build. I feel uneasy in the middle of them, nervous and restless.

Spoiler for you are what you eat:

I still walk in a little deeper in the herd, and I find a foal, that seem to be grazing. I look down and it's not grazing; it's nimbling on a horse leg, the bone at the top gleaming in the gray light, the flesh very red and wet with blood. The foal have sharp, flat teeths, and its tongue makes a grinding sound on the skin of the leg. Its nimbling makes the leg move at the joints, the hoof twitching. Looking around, I an see the dead horse it belongs to, a baie one. It's partially eviscerated, other horses eating off the carcass, ripping pieces of flesh and slowly masticating, big dark eyes waiting.

I take a small step back, and suddently I'm surrounded with other horses; they are taller, with a more heavy build; golden palomino, with a bleached blond mane and light gold pelt; event their hooves are light-colored. The one closer to me stomps the ground, and I can feel it shake; the baie horses nicker and steps back, shaking their heads. I can feel the heat radiating from the golden horses, engulfing me. The one closer to me is holding its head at eyes level with me; it's eyes are black, fringed with almost white lashes.
I am holding a silver thing that looks like a big spoon or a laddle. I bang it against a nearby trunk; it makes the same kind of sound that the hoof stomping, but mutch deeper, the vibration rippling through me and the clearing. The baie horses step sharply back, shaking their heads and tails as if bothered by flies. I do it again, and they flee. The golden horses flood the clearing, and the light sees to be a little clearer.

I'm in a house overlooking the forest, with a woman and her very young daughter. The little girl starts complaining about tummy aches, before blunting out "I'm having twins!" the mother freaks out, but I somehow know that the one having twins is one of the golden mares. It seem to calm down the woman, and get go downstairs. The kitchen is flush with the forest, and there are horses wairing for us. I search the frige and get two apples out, handing the biggest one to the woman. She's nervous, afraid that the mare will chomp her fingers. I show her how to give them the fruit, making my hand nice and flat with the apple in my palm. The horse I'm offering it to take a big bite out of it, chew a little then come back for the rest, its nose soft and velvety. I hear the loud craking sound of the apple being chewed up and there's some crumbs in my hand. I brushes them off and see that the woman managed to give her apple to the other horse just fine.
We mash somes medicinals herbs and clay together and looks for the pregnant mare. It turned into a young woman, and her belly is so huge she can't move from the bed she's sitting on. I give her the mix, and she start covering her swollen stomatch with it, sighing in relief. Her skin is so streched I can see her veins running under, and the pulse of the blood in it.

Got lost in a big city of old stones and neons light.

I'm in a field again, green wispering grass, low rolling hills. There's a light breeze, pushing white clouds in the bright blue sky. As I look around, the ground starts to shake; I hear a low rumbling and crackling, peebles rolling. Out of the hills rise giants; giants of white stones, with bells for heads. Dust billows from them as they slowy get up, the air filled with a loud grinding sound made by their limbs moving.

I'm in a competition, something in english I don't remember. I win the big prize, a trip to Venize. It doesn't look like the real deal at all; it's a big, green and lush prairie, with low, soft rolling hills. I walk around a little, listening to the murmuring grass. I spot a old, gnarly tree with a very dark, almost black bark and big off-white flowers. Their petals are thick, fleshy, with a waxy sheen and a very soft, floral smell. I pick a butch of them, the twigs holding them snapping easily. I try to put them into a pan filler with water, but the are so big I can't make them all fit.
After that I'm vsiting a house with a small group of people. It's mostly one long room, with green rottin furniture, fairly used; in place the rottin is faded to a soft, light gray. There's also potted plants clustered here and there, painting touches of colors in the house.

I'm in a sprawling garden, part of a even bigger manor. There are people everywhere; it's a rather posh party, but I'm not sure if it's for a birthday or a wedding. The trees are decorated with red ribbons and lanterns made of glass and forged iron, lighting the paths made of red bricks. The foliages is glossy and shining, the conversation are mutted and I don't know anyone, so I wander around in the garden, getting further and further away from the house. There's a lot of tropical plants around, with big, othersized leafs and exuberant forms tightly contained into flowerbeds with red brick trim. It's getting darker, and I end up finding back the crowd. People are getting seated on cushions in front of a stage carved into a cliff side There's a big red drapes framing the stage, hiding the lightsources and standing out against the dull gray stone. I see my sister in already seated on a cushion, so I go sit next to her, not knowing why everyone is here. We wait as more people get seated, my sister is typing away on her phone and I'm regretting not having mine. People keep arriving and sitting, in a very slow, endless stream. I'm starting to get bored and keep shifting on my cushion, drawing the attention of the man sitting in front of me. He got silvery blond hair falling on his shoulders, and a arrogant smile. He gets up, takes my hand and pulls me on my feet, still smiling. He drags me through the crowd to the left of the stage; there's stairs carved in the rock, going down to a tunnel under the stage. It's almost pitch black in the tunnel, but I can't still see the outline of his silhouette, crowned with those beautiful hairs. He moves his hand to my arm, right over my elbow, holding tight. It makes me feel like running, and he smiles again.

Spoiler for Nope, no running for me:

His fingers dig in my arms and he push me against the wall, his whole body close enough that I can feel him breathes. The wall feels very cold and he's very warm. He slips his knee between my legs and pushes them open, lifting my skirt. I try to grab his wrist and he grab my throat, whispering in my ear that I will behave, then let go of my throat to use his hand to do something more interesting. He's taller that me, enough that I have to stand on my tiptoes, gripping his shoulders to steady myself. My body start to buckles and I have trouble staying silent. He pushes me harder against the wall, breathing in my neck. He brings me to climax and keeps going; it's almost painful.

I stumble out of the tunnel, and the crowd is thining out, people scattering back in the garden. My sister is still here, she gathered more cushions and is laying on top of them, videochatting on a small laptop with a guy I identify as her boyfriend. They are fighting, so I don't stick around. I go back to wandering along the paths, and I meet up with a friend. We walk around a little, and she bring up the fact that I disappeared a little earlier. I tell her why and she don't believe me at all, then point out that she pegged me as more of a car type of girl. It makes me laugh and we reach a sort of round space with carts of colorful, almost cartoony fruits. I pick up a giant mango the size of a beach ball; it's half squashed and my hands get covered in sticky juice. The smell is almost overhelming, and I chuck it in a flowerbed, shaking my hands to get rid of at least part of the juice.

... Well I... Did find the silvery man again? I didn't manage to get lucid but it's something. He's still a jerk

So I'm sick (yeah, again...) so my recall is tanking.

There was snow, horse-pulled carriages, fur coat and a busy old city.

take a seat people, this one is a long one.

I boards a train on a contry station. The day is hazy and hot, the tall grass dried out and whispering in the hot wind. The train I'm in go off the rails, but I find myself tranding up in the ruins of the accident, seemingly inscathed, chairs and pieces of glimmering machinery all around me in a clearing. I still need to go, and I find mylsef in another train, this one going over a brige high on a montain side. This one go off the rails too, and I'm falling down, all the way to the ground. I hear the thump of my body, and something snaps.
I scramble back on my ass, then I stand up. Somehow I know that i'm not living anymore, that I'm a ghost, haunting my own body. It doesn't seem broken or even hurt. Two other girls are picking themselves from the ground. I know they are like me, dead but walking. We meet up on the side of the wreackage and decide that we have nothing better to do but walk.
We walk for a long time, following the train tracks, until we reach the outskirts of a city. One of my companion seem to know her way around, and she brings us to a big villa with a party going on. We walk in from the garden to a back door. A Yound, blond haired girl opens the door, beckoning us in. There's a lot of people, kids barely in their teens huddled together, sixteen years old longing around, and twenty something drinking and laughing. THe blonde girl introduces us to her older borther, one of a twenty-something; he's a fiery red-head, with a handsome, somehow cat-like face. He seems very interested in me, but he gives off such a creeper vibe that I decide to purposely fuck with him by flirting with girls. I whisper to one of the girls from the train:
"I bet I can kiss three girls before the end of the day."
"But how about the guy?" she askes.
"Exactly."
We giggle after that.
The day after, the party is fnished and the house weirdly empty. It's a beautiful place, with white walls and tilted floors, the furniture mostly made of light wood, with dark blue and white fabric. I slowy understand that the party was an haunting, and the previous owners of the place are dead, and I'm squatting. There's a lot of food in the kitchen, breads and cheeses and all sort of vegetables in the frige. There's also a cot in here, with a cream wool blanket on the thin mattress.
I spend some days here, and one day I overslept and wake up in the darkness. I flip the switch to open the electrical blinds and look the time on my phone; it's almost 3 p.m. but I need to plung it to see clearly the screen, the battery was almost flat.
I wander in the garden in my pajama, a fade pink shirt going down to my thighs, feeling feverish. On a cornor of the garden, overlooking the street below is a giant tree, gnarled and old. It looks like a japanese pin tree, with big aerial roots. It's covered in dark green moss, with lighter sprouts on the side touched by the sun, doted with small flowers in orange, pink and light yellow.
As I'm walking toward it, two girls I recognize from the school I'm attending see me from the street and ask me where I am been. I make up a lie that I was sick with the flu, my dew soaked pajama clinging to me like I'm sweatslick. They sympathize, and ask to use my bathroom. I pretend that it's dirty to make them leave, bu the older one insist and I guide them inside. I pretend to clean up the bathroom before letting the younger one in, going in the kitchen with the other. I start to nervously tidy up the food, putting most of it in the frige and throwing moldy things away. The girl looks at me intendingly and asks me : "Do you sit on the bed, or through the bed?" I look quickly to the still locked bathroom door, and nervously tell her that we should speak about it later. She agrees and the younger girl get out, and they leave. The older girl tells me her friend needs help, and she will come back later.
I start to bolt all the doors but another school college walks to it with a friend of her and tries to force her way in; I lock the door on her and talk to her through a window cut in the wood of the door. She aggressifly asks me about a Sarcomis thyphus and I rattle off the definition of it; it's a bacteria that induce sarcoma. He friend snorts and starts to say that it's actually a part of the immun system. I scream at her that it's in the fucking name that it induces sarcoma and it's a bacteria and slam the window covering in their faces, bolting it. I back up a little corridor and lock another door, this one painted light blue.

I'm not sure about the chronological order of this dream.

It's a post-apocalyptic setting again, but this time the apocalypse happened very recently; we still don't know how bad it is, and what exactly has changed. I'm walking through a facility set in a warehouse with a man in a lab coat; there's a lot of people running around with files and tablets, making impromptu meeting and talking. It's badly lit, and I feel like I'm underground, even thought I can see a boat on the otherside of the warehouse, ad the light boncing of the waves painting pattern on the ceiling. I overhear a man talking about going to live at sea, on oil-extracting platform. I point out to the man walking with me that thoses platform are limited in space and food, so that's not a viable move. He leads me to a computer and we can see the number of people killed, separated in profession in a kind of spreadsheet. He points the physicians to me, telling that one in forty got killed. The number of killed physicians is two hundreds, and the cell color is orange.
I'm outside now, with a middle aged woman, in an alley between two buildings. It's a very sunny day, the shadows on the orange walls are razor sharp, an the metallic mesh closing one end of the alley is glittering. There's also a grey plastic table against the wall to my left, with a box on it. A man with sunglasses pick something up in the box and put it in his mouth. I sprint to him and kiss him, stealing the thing in the process. It's slightly sweet and chewy, like gum. Now that I'm close I recognize David, and he take another gum; it's small, white and tubular shaped, like a rubber from the end of a mechanical pencil.
We're back inside the warehouse, with the man and David, and we learn that we have to ask for help to some people. I know that they aren't normal human, and I pick a photograph of one of them, telling the crowd that I know him, that I call him Raphael. One of the people ask him how much I know him, and I answer that he likes me in white. We decide that me and David will go looking for him.
We're on a road, in a middle of a forest; I check a map, it seem that we are in Europe, somewhere between Germany and Russia. The sun is high in the sky, but the air is pretty chilly. David got a jeans, hicking boots and a warm coat, but I'm in a white, flowy dress. It cover my arms and go down to the floor, but it's made of a light material, in lots of layers. We've been walking for a long time and I complain that we're running out of road. We finally reach a big building, well integrated into the forest, with big glass walls and dark woods. The door has a steel inlay, and I walk in with David. Inside the floor is carpeted, the wall painted white and with the same dark wood panneling. It has the slightly cushy warm of central heat. I go to the admission desk, letting David sit in one of the armchair overlooking the road. The receptionnist is a small, blond-haired woman with a tight ponytail that brush her neck. She listens to me and talks into her headset before gesturing me to go to the armchair. I give her a smile and turn around, but before I can move Raphael enter the room.
He's a towering, willowy man, crowned with golden curls. He's wearing a long-sleeved light blue t-shirt over a jean and his fingers are stained with paint. He notices me and pulls me off the floor into a bearhug, and I get a good look of his freckled, charming face and light green eyes.
Later, I'm walking into the nearby city with David, the warm of the sun nicely contrasting with the chillness of the air. We're on a very pretty, pedestrian street made of sandstone. David makes me laugh, and I can see from the corner of my eye Raphael, walking with a small group of friends ahead of us turning around and looking for me. David whispers to me that Raphael agree to help because he's infatued with me. I laugh at the idea, but Raphael big smile when he hears my laugh seem telling.


Yeah, Eli does find that there's an awful lot of people loving me recently

I'm in an abandonned hospital, it's brightly light by the sun through broken windows, with dust pilled up in the corners and medical furnitures abandonned around. There was some kind of catastrophy, something that turned the majority of humanity into flesh-eating monsters. I'm trying ton round-up survivors. I walk the allyways, following sounds, and find two teenagers girls huddled in a room, crying. I don't have time to confort them and pull them on their feet to get out of the place. I hear crying again, and right outside the door is another girl in a white nighty with her dark hair loose around her face, holding her own arm and swaying on her feet. The arm she's holding is deadly white, with the veins showing up in dark purples and sickly green. She's infected, turning. I slam the door in her face and scream to the girls to come and help me keep the door closed, but they're too scared and stay rooted in place. The other girl is banging on the door, the whole thing rattling on it's frame and hurting my shoulder. The frame start splittering, but before she manages to destroy it I hear her scream and then it's silence. I slowly open the door and there's giant dogs on the other sides, waiting. I pat a head here and scratch a ear there, the pack rounding the girls up and we get out. We're out on the streets, and our little group is joined by the other survivors, keeping close for protection. I'm the pack leader, the huntress.
We're looking for a house to live in. The street is going up, and the houses on each side are painted white with dark blue tilted roof. Both have a tower, and the one on the right have a big wooden gate, the bottom of it quite weathered and rotting. A couple of survivors and me crawl under that gate and find ourselves in front of an other gate, in fare more better shape. The more slender of us manage to crowl under this one too, and I tell her to open it. The dogs sniffle and whine behind the gate, and as soon as they are in the house they scatter to scout it. We take everyone in and close the gates.
I follow the sound of my pack and find them ripping appart an infected; it's a quick affair, and they are careful not to splatter everything. I get the survivor to the upper levels of the house. It's a big duplex rooms, with beds scattered around, and drapes for some makeshift privacity. I'm given a corner place, with two beds, one to sleep, one to "work as a desk". I thanks the woman giving me my place and go back to the pack. I notice that some of the dog are in fact wild boars, but there are as easygoing as the others. I pet them and go back up. There are clothes on my bed, a dress of beige taffeta and black tulles, with a poffy skirt, alongside a pair of sheer, black tights and a pair of being, shimmering thight high. I change, putting the thight hight over the tights. It's warm and comfy, and the dress dances when I move. I'm walking away when a old, petite woman with black hair and a heavily lined face give me high heels made of a transparent material, decorated with small, shining black pearls and porcelains beige flowers. I slip them on... And wake up.