Dream state: memory is now shattered, lying in fragments across the inner expanse of my skull, but I am struggling to reclaim even those. I recall being with people again, obviously existing in some sinister vein. I know that there was a much larger plot behind these characters and us being outside, on a street corner. We had been here for awhile, and our numbers dwindled, but shining clearly through this fog are the evil woman and the need to get away but feeling like a captive despite the fact that I was unrestrained and technically should’ve been able to escape, if terror could carry me far enough.

I think ____ and ____ had been there before, their familiarity presenting an even colder challenge. Something happened with the fire truck and I believe that it was part of a larger system of absurdities meant to fuel this section of dreamscape.

I was swimming in the most desperate and intense need to get away, so much so that it had become The Need To Get Away, a menacing task considering the fact that I was the only one who was here for myself, the only one who could help myself.

Like an apparition willing itself into the world, or even more likely, an ex machina of the subconscious strain, ____ was suddenly walking across the street.

And everything felt right—just like that.

I remember exclaiming something and worriedly entertaining the idea that it had gotten lost in dreamscape translation, or that he would continue walking, but he looked up and stopped, then sauntered over in typical fashion and embraced me. A comfort in a wicked place. ♦