[i]	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 [u]something[/u] had happened inside your head while you slumbered. And even [u]that[/u] was rare for some, [u]their[/u] dreams consumed by the forgetful darkness of the mind long before waking.
	But Anora had not had the luxury of a dreamless sleep for what felt like ages.
	She was sure she had gone to bed, but sounds and sensations still surrounded her. The persistent, steady [u]crunch[/u] reminiscent of gravel beneath her feet filled the darkness she had thought was the product of sleep. But that was wrong. Shadows. She was wading on expert feet through an obsidian blanket of shadows. She had been traveling for a while, hadn’t she? Yet, the journey had done nothing to ware her down. 
	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. For a moment, she could only 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 crimson oblivion far in the distance. The indentations left by her steps allowed 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 gravel crunching unevenly beneath her feet, this relatively quiet place was unquestionably real, more tangible, even, 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 imposingly straight. She glanced from them to the gravel through which they seemed to have sprouted, as opposed to being built upon.
	No, not gravel. [u]Bones.[/u] 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. A thought not of her thinking, yet fitting all the same, crossed her mind: [b][u]He’s here.[/u][/b]
	Not-her-body tensed, ready for action. Where [u]was[/u] he? For that matter, [u]who[/u] was 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 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. [u][b]If I don’t make the first move, he’ll--[/b][/u][/i]

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	Still half in the dream, Anora jumped up from her bed, an electric purple energy speckled with gold and black forming around her hands. She [i]had[/i] to attack first, and fast, but her blanket caught around her legs and made her fall to the floor with a shout. The energy she had summoned burst from her hands with a whizzing crackle 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. At last, she registered the familiar surroundings of her bedroom.
	The peeling wallpaper displayed an ugly, faded floral pattern. Her desk, the only thing messy about the room besides the debris of the drawer now strewn over the carpet, was cluttered with stray papers, half-finished drawings, and paintbrushes lazily left dipped in water. The few posters and pictures she had put up to try countering the wallpaper stared back at her. 
	Her gaze settled on the damage she had done to the dresser. With a groan, she plopped fully onto the carpet, her arms on the floor above her head. It was too early to deal with that. 
	“Could my dreams get [i]any[/i] weirder?” she asked into the brown carpet.
	Though it offered her no answer, at least it was not made of bone. Though, it would not surprise her if there were a few skeletons hidden between the walls somewhere. 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 before 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 elegantly with a leather strip of silver studs on one side and various sizes of chains draped over the other. A matching pair of jeans followed, and her current favorite pair of mid-calf platform boots decorated with exaggeratedly large buckles came last, a knife ever 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 had first begun, but this had taken it to a whole new level.
	Deciding her dresser could wait until later, she hurried from her bedroom. She strode down a short hall, and paused in the living room that served as the entrance area. She glanced to her small dining table, which took up half of the kitchen, even with only two chairs. She stared at her car keys nestled in a porcelain dish atop the table, the glaze shining over gilded Chinese dragons, debating on if she wanted to take her car, or walk.
	Deciding it would be quicker and mean she could stock up on more groceries than what she could carry, she grabbed her car keys, shoved the wallet beside it into her back pocket, and hurried to the front door of the single-bedroomed 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 stopped and blinked slightly in the sunlight. Once her eyes adjusted, she examined the lawn suspiciously, half expecting another hand to come bursting through the ground. Of course, it did not.
	She shifted her weight, a frown pulling at her lips. Something felt off, but she could not say what for the life of her. She shook her head, trying to brush off the notion, but a small part of her clung to it. Something [i]different[/i] would happen today. Though the thought often crossed her mind, this time, it [i]had[/i] to be true. 
	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. She glanced into the backseat as she unlocked the door, making sure her worn backpack still occupied the seat she had forgotten it on the previous night.
	Satisfied she had her trusty sketchbook with her, she slid inside and started the car, her stomach ready for breakfast.