Dreams are such odd things. They lurk in the depths of the mind, emerging when we succumb to the sweet, healing unconsciousness of sleep. For most, they are little more than wisps of visions that blow away with the waking world. They are quickly lost and forgotten, leaving only the haunting feeling that [i]something[/i] had happened inside your head while you slumbered. And even [i]that[/i] was rare for some, [i]their[/i] dreams consumed by the darkness of the mind long before waking.
	But Anora had not had that luxury for far too long. She was sure she had gone to bed, but the persistent, steady [i]crunch[/i] reminiscent of gravel beneath her feet filled the darkness she had thought only a moment before to have been the product of sleep. Shadows. She was wading on expert feet through the obsidian blanket of shadows. She had the feeling she had been traveling for a while, yet she did not feel worn from the journey. 
	Streams of light streaked through the wall of black, but Anora did not so much as blink at the sudden light. The rays created a gray haze before the darkness fully pulled away, and she could not help but marvel at the vividness of the colors of her surroundings. Beautiful, but deadly-looking shades of deep red saturated the cloudless sky, illuminating the world despite the lack of a visible sun. Contrasting shades of a white expanse stretched around her, rounding off then dropping into red oblivion far in the distance. The indentations left by her steps allowed light shadows to pool inside them. But it was not just her sight that felt enhanced; every one of her senses had intensified as if someone had cranked her body’s perception dial to its breaking point. From the gentle breeze carrying a sour scent, to the sensation of the gravel beneath her feet, this relatively quiet place was unquestionably real, even [i]more[/i] tangible than the world she had left behind.
	Further off, gigantic, baseless pillars that could put even the Tokyo Skytree to shame surrounded her like a stone forest. It was impossible to tell whether the massive, perfectly round structures were one or thousands of miles away. Some of them leaned drunkenly while others stood straighter than she thought possible. She glanced from them to the gravel through which they seemed to have sprouted, as opposed to being built upon.
	No, not gravel. [i]Bones.[/i] For as far as she could see, a harrowing array of human-like bones littered the ground and cracked unnervingly beneath each of her steps, the occasional small skull smiling emptily up at her.
	She tried to gasp, to step back, but her body did not obey her. It kept going forward. Of course it did. She was on a mission, and this was no ordinary dream, even by her standards. This time, her body was not hers, driven forward by a consciousness not her own.
	A scratching rumble sent a violent tremble through the ground beneath her feet, and a thought not of her thinking, yet oddly fitting all the same, crossed her mind: [b][i]He’s here.[/i][/b]
	Not-her-body tensed, ready for action. Where [i]was[/i] he?
	With a chest-rattling eruption, a colossal hand burst from the ground, sending a rain of bones clattering for miles. Its enormous palm reached slowly toward the ground as if hoping to pull up the rest of its body still hidden below. Its skin appeared to ripple as thousands of mouths opened. What looked unnervingly like blood blood gushed from their lips. The shock and dread blooming in not-her combined with the fearful awe that flooded through Anora.
	What sounded like the tortured wails of millions of souls trapped in the underworld sent a shock wave toward her from the hand, knocking her back. She skidded painfully to her back, the carpet of bones poking at her through her clothes.
	Not-her cursed and scrambled to her feet. [i][b]If I don’t make the first move, he’ll--[/b][/i]

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	Realizing she had regained full sensation of her own body, Anora jumped up from her bed, an electric purple energy speckled with gold forming around her hands. She [i]had[/i] to attack first, but her blanket caught around her legs and made her fall to the floor with a shout. The energy she had summoned burst unintentionally from her hands and shot into her dresser. The wood of one of the drawers shattered, sending an array of splinters and scorched undergarments into the air before falling about the threadbare carpet.
	Her heart still pounding madly in her chest, Anora pushed her upper body up and looked around, slowly registering the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. The peeling wallpaper that displayed an ugly, faded floral pattern. Her desk, the only thing messy about the room, cluttered with stray papers, half-finished drawings, and paintbrushes unwisely left dipped in water. The few posters and pictures she had put up to try countering the wallpaper. Then, there was her dresser, now minus one drawer. With a groan, she plopped fully onto the carpet, her arms on the floor above her head.
	“Could my dreams get [i]any[/i] weirder?” she asked the brown carpet. Though it offered her no answer, at least it was not made of bone. She could feel her black hair sticking up at odd angles, making her scalp itch as it tried to fall back into place.
	Without fully sitting up, she twisted her body to get a look at her alarm clock. It told her it was a little past noon.
	“Crap!” She hurried to her feet, this time careful to not let her blanket best her. She had wanted to get up earlier, but either her alarm failed to go off, or she slept through it. Either way, if she wanted to make it to the grocery store before her shift at the dinner, she would have to book it, or wait until tomorrow. With only enough food in the apartment to make a Jell-O and Lucky Charms sandwich, there was no way she was waiting.
	As quickly as she could and trying to not think about her dream, she got ready for her day. She donned a tight-fitting black t-shirt adorned almost elegantly with a leather strip of silver studs on one side and various sizes of chains draped over the other, a matching pair of pants, and her current favorite pair of mid-calf platform boots decorated with exaggeratedly large buckles, her favorite knife hidden inside the left one.
	As she hurried from her room, she paused to glance at the mess on her desk. The partially-painted sketch on top depicted a fierce, bloody battle she had borne witness to in yet another of her increasing dreams. She shuddered at the thought of the hand that had haunted her last night. [i]That[/i] was certainly another one to put in the books. Her dreams had felt real since they began, but this had taken it to a whole new level.
	Deciding her dresser could wait until later, she hurried from the apartment, pausing only to debate whether or not she wanted to take her car. Deciding it would be quicker, she grabbed her car keys from a dish on the small kitchen table, grabbed her handbag from beside it, and hurried from the two-roomed apartment.
	She rushed down the creaky stairs to the first floor, her car keys swirling absently around one finger by a key ring, then emerged into the summery outdoors. She blinked slightly in the sunlight, examining the lawn suspiciously as if expecting another hand to come bursting through the ground.
	Though she could not say what, there was something [i]different[/i] about today. Something she could not quite place her finger on felt off, almost like there was an extra buzz in the air. 
	A feeling of paranoia stepped down her spine, making her frown. Looking around in a vain attempt at locating any reason for the sensation, Anora gripped her keys and made her way slowly across the grassy lawn between complexes toward the parking lot where her hand-me-down BMW waited.