And the Dreams come at Night

{if Sanity < 2} The nightmares have returned. The labours of the day kept them at bay, but they have returned to stalk you through the halls of sleep. Even here, in the antlered hall, phantasms creep along the edge of your vision, always just out of sight.

And they have you caught: Even as you know that you are dreaming, you cannot wake.

{else}

The dreams have returned. They were weaker at land, constant but muddled. Rare glimpses of sunlight would offer succour and drink – or time – would make you forget. And you are dreaming; you know that you are dreaming yet you cannot wake. {endif}

Familiar walls of chitinous horn surround you but recede from touch. There are openings ahead – caverns and bleeding wounds, and windows formed from dark glass. Each and all promise revelation. And a distant thought threatens: It is not you who is dreaming. You are another; a strange dreamer dreaming a stranger’s dream.

The barriers tremble at your touch, some fleeing and some ready to open.