Here be dragons

I'm with a golden haired man with short, slicked back hair. He pulls me in a car and I have to drive it through a underground parking lot. It's decrepit, the cement is stained and pitted, with the metal bar embedded in it sticking out like bones from a carcass with rust leaking out. Part of it is falling appart, blocking some roads. I try to find my way in it, my compagnon not very helpful. He does give me some direction, and we reach a back-end. I turn the car around, telling the man I won't let him get us into trouble if we need a quick guetaway.

I find myself in a house with my family, namely my mother, her brother with his dog, and my sister. They were out to the beach and everyone is tired, my mother sleeping on the couch in her still wet clothes with a blanket over her. I notice a piece of paper poking out of her pocket and take it without waking her up. There's in fact two papers: on of them is too wet and desintegrate into a pulp, bu the other is still mostly whole. I read part of it; it's a very heartfelt letter from my father, written just before or after my sister's birth. It's written on a prescription paper, with the heading of the hospital he worked in when I was very young. It's typical of him, and rather sweet. I carefully lay it flat on the table to dry, feeling lot of love for both my parents.

Finally, I wander outside that room to a living room with french windows opening into a stone terrace with iron-forged garden furnitures. There's a crew of cameramen here, filming what seems to be a business lunch. There's a dozen of people in suit, both men and women, eating an expensive salad in the sun. I'm lurking inside, not wanting to be filmed. I look around the room, there's a desk with a handful of pens and some letters, but I don't pay close attention to it. There's also a big cardboad box. I take off the lid and there's a big, pitch black rabbit in it, on a bed of hay. I pick it up and hold it close to me, it's as big as a cat and very fluffy, with a downy belly. I'm careful to keep it's legs tighly hold so it can't kick, but it's a very chill rabbit and it let's itself being carried around like a big furry baby. I walk to the other side of the room and find a stone wheel going down. There's growling coming from it, deep below. I call in it and something come up; it's sewage, dark and sluggish, with a white mouse swimming in it. I take it out of the sewage, but I didn't caught it properly and it twists out of my hand and fall to the floor before running away. I'm not very sad about it, since it was dripping wet and dirty. I gently put the rabbit down and pat it's head before opening the door for it. It hops out and I go back to lurking next to the windows. One of the people eating, and handsome man with olive skin and strong, patrician features, looks up and away from the lunch and right to me. He seems to recognizes me and his cold, calculated smile turn into an incredibly warm, sweet one. He politly but quickly excuses himself from the table and gets inside. He's tall and broad-shouldered, with cropped, very curly dark hair. I reach up to his face, and he catches my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine. His hands are as big as the rest of him, making me feel small. He smiles and cups my face with his other hand, it feels very warm and slightly rough, probably from calluses. I smile and coyly look away.