Fortunately, I was not punished by my hasty assumption that the door would swing inwards upon impact, which it does. I rush to hook my hands around it as it revolves, preparing to reverse its motion and slam it shut in the face of hell outdoors. Then I hear an actual voice reply to my aimless venting of fear. And for better or worse, I had hoped to die in the company of someone else out here who could respond to me in a language other than guttural, and leave me in a last, rational state of mind instead of bewilderment.

I hold the door long enough for a petite figure to slip in, and finally shut the lid on the encroaching fog. The howls subside under the rhythm of my heavy breathing, and my body thumps to the floor, leaning every which way in exhaustion. I look up to check on the state of my companion, Gloria was it? Wait, long blonde hair to the thighs, American accent, and that ridiculously weighty purple earring...

"...You're my flatmate, aren't you Gloria? The Yank-er Miss Hathaway, down the hall opposite side from my door?"

With that realization, time slows down as my head races in possibilities. They all lead to the same conclusion however, the creeping realization that I really, possibly could not be in a dream. I was never religious, though my parents did each sit on pews in their childhood before skipping Sundays, but now I draw on every bit of paranormal, supernatural knowledge I can muster, where math, science, and God knows economics cannot help me explain now this unfortunate twist in my life. Again, London is nowhere near the coastline for this dense a fog, nor did it reek of chemical pollutants attributed to smog. What canines would also exist in the entirety of Great Britain, less so let loose to terrorize the populace, unless the immortality memes about the Queen have just been proven to involve lycanthropy? What did I do to deserve an early glimpse of Hades?

I refocus on Gloria while still struggling to comprehend just the space we occupy even. The building walls here look complete instead of haphazard, jagged jigsaw pieces, but the walls dull any light, and seem to absorb the empty space around us further into the room edges cloaked in darkness. If not for the sheen of Gloria's blonde hair helping to outline her, my eyesight tracking indoors would have been compromised as much as the haze had done outside.

"I-I don't know where to pick up, from when we last met. But I think we could start by retracing our steps today. I honestly thought this is all just a dream, though not to count out the chance I could be having a dream with you in it, er..."

[@Landaus Five-One]