You wake with painful pressure all around you, pushing down on your body, making it hard to breathe. You panic, clawing to get away, and you realize you're surrounded by dirt. Buried. It doesn't make the fear any better, and you can't breathe.
The earth is hard to push through but you manage somehow, they buried you shallowly; in a hurry, perhaps? You draw in air into your lungs, body dirty and aching, eyes wide as you're staring up at the night sky. The moon is there, full and beautiful and all you can focus on.
All that really remains in your head.
Who are you? What is happening? Why are you so empty?
You try to stand, and just stumble and fall. Exhausted, weak. No knowledge of who you are and where you are. What you are, with this purple skin and the tail behind you. You somehow know how to use it, to steady your gait, but it's all this so strange.
You open your mouth to scream for help, but words are hard. They don't fit, you barely remember how, tasting it on your lips but the mouth unable to form them.
You're just so empty.
You slump against a tree, shivering, confused and alone. Only the moon for company. She's bright, comforting. The only good thing in this place... but there's music too, you realize. Someone's playing a violin.
You know what a violin is, but not your own name.
Your mouth opens again to call for help, and all you can do is cry out like a desperate creature, like a wounded animal pleading for mercy. At first it seems like they did not hear you, but then they come. People.
They brighten up the night in colorful clothing. Helping you up, wrapping you in blankets. Taking you with them to a colorful tent with colorful furniture, all so bright and vibrant that it seems unnatural. Neon, almost glaring. Dreamlike.
They feed you, clothe you, ask your name. You cannot reply, cannot thank them, but they do not judge. There's only kindness and love and family.
'Empty' is still all you can say, but you certainly do not feel that way anymore.
Drugs are Bad, Reality is Worse.
The dream starts nicely. You're happy, easy, just hanging around with friends. Then three of them disappear, torn away from the rest of you by giant hands and a laughing, terrible face of a huge man with facial tattoos, other features barely visible as if you only heard him described.
You're running after them, but the ground is now thick with blood, hot and sticking to everything. Your clothes, your weapons, your body. Then you realize it's your own blood, pouring endlessly from your chest in massive gushes, and you stumble, falling face down into the half-coagulated mess.
Somehow you're floating in that blood now, surrounded by crimson seeing nothing but red, red. Eyes suddenly appear around you, staring. Blinking. You look at your hand, and the snake tattooed there also had a red eye.
It also blinks at you.
That laughter is heard again, but this time it's your own. You can see a purple tiefling (and you know it's you), covered in dirt and hair nearly completely shorn; no tattoos, no panache. Just a dangerous smile. This other you reach out, your friends appearing between his fingers like the cards you carry.
The last thing you see is crushed bodies in purple hands and you scream, mouth filling with the surrounding blood.
Event Dreams
You wake with painful pressure all around you, pushing down on your body, making it hard to breathe. You panic, clawing to get away, and you realize you're surrounded by dirt. Buried. It doesn't make the fear any better, and you can't breathe.
The earth is hard to push through but you manage somehow, they buried you shallowly; in a hurry, perhaps? You draw in air into your lungs, body dirty and aching, eyes wide as you're staring up at the night sky. The moon is there, full and beautiful and all you can focus on.
All that really remains in your head.
Who are you? What is happening? Why are you so empty?
You try to stand, and just stumble and fall. Exhausted, weak. No knowledge of who you are and where you are. What you are, with this purple skin and the tail behind you. You somehow know how to use it, to steady your gait, but it's all this so strange.
You open your mouth to scream for help, but words are hard. They don't fit, you barely remember how, tasting it on your lips but the mouth unable to form them.
You're just so empty.
You slump against a tree, shivering, confused and alone. Only the moon for company. She's bright, comforting. The only good thing in this place... but there's music too, you realize. Someone's playing a violin.
You know what a violin is, but not your own name.
Your mouth opens again to call for help, and all you can do is cry out like a desperate creature, like a wounded animal pleading for mercy. At first it seems like they did not hear you, but then they come. People.
They brighten up the night in colorful clothing. Helping you up, wrapping you in blankets. Taking you with them to a colorful tent with colorful furniture, all so bright and vibrant that it seems unnatural. Neon, almost glaring. Dreamlike.
They feed you, clothe you, ask your name. You cannot reply, cannot thank them, but they do not judge. There's only kindness and love and family.
'Empty' is still all you can say, but you certainly do not feel that way anymore.
Drugs are Bad, Reality is Worse.
The dream starts nicely. You're happy, easy, just hanging around with friends. Then three of them disappear, torn away from the rest of you by giant hands and a laughing, terrible face of a huge man with facial tattoos, other features barely visible as if you only heard him described.
You're running after them, but the ground is now thick with blood, hot and sticking to everything. Your clothes, your weapons, your body. Then you realize it's your own blood, pouring endlessly from your chest in massive gushes, and you stumble, falling face down into the half-coagulated mess.
Somehow you're floating in that blood now, surrounded by crimson seeing nothing but red, red. Eyes suddenly appear around you, staring. Blinking. You look at your hand, and the snake tattooed there also had a red eye.
It also blinks at you.
That laughter is heard again, but this time it's your own. You can see a purple tiefling (and you know it's you), covered in dirt and hair nearly completely shorn; no tattoos, no panache. Just a dangerous smile. This other you reach out, your friends appearing between his fingers like the cards you carry.
The last thing you see is crushed bodies in purple hands and you scream, mouth filling with the surrounding blood.