Here be dragons

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

I'm in the dark, laying on my bed. I hear the phone ringing and grumble about it, trying to fall back asleep. I toss and turn a little, but nothing do. I get up without bothering with the light and get out of my bedroom into the corridor. I stumble pass the furnitures and into the entrance and take the key to the mailbox before getting out. The cold seize me, and I think that I souldn't have go out wrearing only my pajama. The front of the garden is very diffrent, with a hedge rather than a fence and proper lawn rather that gravel The house in front of mine is still the same thought. I still go to get the mail; the mailbox is cream rather that green, and rather beated up. Inside there's two small packages and an handfull of flyers. I chuck the flyers into the outside bin and get back in. It's still very dark, and I feel heavy and tired. I drop the packages on the kitchen table and head back to bed.

Then I woke up, and started to list all the points where I should have snapped into lucidity. One of the obvious one being that I'm in my student flat.Dammit. And it was, of course, three in the morning.

I'm in a ginormous wooden cabin, with a very open floor plan, and all of my family, plus guests. We're preparing a birthday party, for my sister I think. It's a very sunny day, and beams of light stream from the bay windows, one of them open into a glittering snow covered garden. It's pretty hot inside despite that; there's lit fireplace all around. We'ere obviously doing the finishing touchs for the party: tables are dressed with white cloth, and there are garlands on the mezzanine. Half of the people are already in their classy clothes, my sister rocking a snazzy golden dress that enhance her natural tan. My mother and her briefly fuss about her hair and she run away to fix something. I'm here out of duty, and help putting food and beverages around, already dolled up. The friends and family I keep crossing paths with seem very happy to see me here and keep telling me that I should be all dressed up more often. It's a little overhelming and I run back to the kitchen insteand of answering them. My mother boyfriend is here, not ready for the party at all in a t-shirt and short. He looks like he just stepped out of the shower and wandered in. In his usual blunt manner, he point out that I finally look pretty in that dress and makeup.* Starting to feel fed up, I walk out of the kitchen to the back of the house, which is more calm. I climb some stairs and sit on the landing of the second floor, pulling on the hem of the dress. It's a a nice burgundy with black ribbons and a little frill, and the heels I'm wearing match well. The second floor is almost in the dark, with only a fireplace in the back and a little sun shining around the closed curtains. I can barely hear the sound of the party here, it's rather peaceful. Someone come from the first floor, stopping a dozen stairs under me and looking up. It's the dark haired man I already saw before, striking green eyes looking at me with a hint of concern. He's wearing a tuxedo, and has a champagn flute in his hand; it seem that the party has started.

*Yes, he is that blunt. It's not malicious on his part, but it can be jarring. It's true that without any makeup I look like a mix between a rather ripe zombie and a creepy porcelain doll, but I would rather sleep in the morning that make my face. And I can't find fondation that is light enough to match my skintone anyway.