Forest

Cloaked under a dream, invisible in the dark, I quietly stalk my prey in the wild forest. My prey—or, am I its prey? When I wake up, it will see me and kill me. “It”—it is that peculiar almost-feeling of almost-knowing, again already long forgotten. It is hunting me, I can sense it watching me; is there a dream nearby, for protection?

(It must have happened under a full Moon, and Artemis is the god of the hunt and the wilderness.)

See also