Its Tentacles are Bland...
The dream was intense.
The events were not.
But the dream... it was intense.
And filled with danger.
Running. Threats. Malice.
Pure, unadulterated evil.
Oh, and fire.
Spontaneous, massive fire.
And I was running. Being chased. If I were caught... well, that would be the end.
I woke up sweating. Heart beating a mile a minute.
With one single thought: this was not my dream.
This was something I stumbled into. Something I took from someone.
Something that might have killed the original dreamer.
Because I wasn't being chased. There is no fire.
There are problems. And obstacles. And things I can handle.
I have an idea whose dream it was. But I'm not sure.
I hope you don't even remember it if it was yours.
I hope you slid into a different dream. A happier dream. A dream that made you smile.
Because if you did it would be worth my few moments of panic and sweat and heart palpitations.