[Dean doesn't really understand how dreaming works in Deerington, if they are already in a dream, but, hey, it's not as if dreams within dreams would be the strangest happening in his life.
For his part, Dean dreams of a lake, quiet and nearly still, surrounded by trees and mountains; birdsong lingers in the air, and everywhere smells like it's just rained. He's walking along the edge of the water, glancing out at the sky, covered in shades of purple and gray. Off to his right, a log cabin sits, just the right size to be cozy, but not confining, and further ahead, to his left, a dock stretches out into the water, covered in chairs, fishing poles, coolers, and a collection of empty beer bottles like the aftermath of some beachside party.
Dean feels almost at peace, except for the fact that there seems to be a presence nearby. He turns, trying to seek out the source, and trying not to jump at every shifting shadow.]
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For his part, Dean dreams of a lake, quiet and nearly still, surrounded by trees and mountains; birdsong lingers in the air, and everywhere smells like it's just rained. He's walking along the edge of the water, glancing out at the sky, covered in shades of purple and gray. Off to his right, a log cabin sits, just the right size to be cozy, but not confining, and further ahead, to his left, a dock stretches out into the water, covered in chairs, fishing poles, coolers, and a collection of empty beer bottles like the aftermath of some beachside party.
Dean feels almost at peace, except for the fact that there seems to be a presence nearby. He turns, trying to seek out the source, and trying not to jump at every shifting shadow.]
Hello?