Dreams.
So many dreams.
She was soaring over a large village made mostly of wood; an older looking village without cars or a lot of the modern technology of the world. The fan was huge, made out of iron... and she... well, she was different, slightly. Her hair was white-blonde, and as she looked at her reflection as she soared over a puddle of water she could see red fang markings on her cheeks. Markings that she knew she should be proud of.
Who was she?
Who am I?
She felt like she was this person, even though this person was a stranger. Thoughts flooded her mind; memories. All while she slept, all while she dreamed of this place she wouldn't have otherwise known even ever existed.
She looked back down below, watching as two large white dogs ran along the ground beneath her, following her, and barking happily at her. How did she know it was happy? How did she understand them?
It all made absolutely no sense.
But dreams didn't, right? Dreams weren't suppose to make sense.
Then why did this feel like it wasn't a dream?
Why did she feel like this person was her? Like this person was some how part of her?
