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The touch was reassuring, grounding.
The bird’s song filled my ears, a reminder that not all was lost, and that I still had control over some parts of my reality.
The gentle aroma of the forest, a memory from Earth, enveloped me.
With renewed determination, I decided to explore deeper regions of the dreamworld, hoping to find more clues about the mysterious alien.
Even as I ventured forth, a part of me remained anchored to that brief, electrifying encounter.
Was he real?
The question gnawed at me.
If he was real, then there was someone else in this desolate place who understood, someone else who could traverse the pathways of dreams.
The thought gave me hope.
I also knew that dreams were as unpredictable as they were comforting.
I would have to tread carefully and trust my instincts.
The dreamworld was vast, and finding the male again would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.
But I was determined.
Whether he was a flicker or a real dreamwalker, I needed answers.
I needed a connection.
And I was willing to venture into the depths of my dreams to find it.
* * *
The steady hum of the Prize Pool faded into the background as I wandered past the rows of sleeping women.
My footsteps, mere impressions on the ethereal floor of the dreamworld, led me to a door which opened with an almost ethereal sigh.
It was a sound I’d come to recognize, the very echoes of forgotten memories.
The room had that peculiar sensation of time standing still, a snapshot of reality within the dream realm.
Dim light from an unseen source cast a glow on the room, revealing dust motes that danced aimlessly.
Despite being a dream construct, the room seemed to have weight and substance to it.
I felt the cool air brush past my face, carrying with it the musty scent of old paper.
This room, an office, was a relic from the past.
It once belonged to the madam of the Prize Pool, the woman who had been the face and force behind the whole operation.
But like many of late, she had vanished.
Rumors said she’d been sold, or worse.
Her sudden absence had left behind an unspoken void, one that the prison authorities were in no hurry to fill.
I felt a twinge of anticipation as I approached the old mahogany desk.
