Dungeon. Low stone-walled passageways, riding my horse. The horse is impractical but I don't feel like admitting this - I have to duck occasionally and opening doors without getting off is a really faff. We come to a fork in the passage, to the left there are people dressed in blue and a large glass door, to the right just more dungeon. I try to go left but the horse rears and panics, refuses to go that way. 'Woah,' I say, calming him, 'what's the matter? You don't want to go that way?' The horse shakes its head. 'Come on, let's sit down and talk about it.' I get off and we sit at a table, the horse has turned into an old man, but I don't mention it. He tells me that to the left is a medical facility and that they've perfected a way to extract and store memories. 'But,' he says, looking in my eye, 'the process kills you.' I take this in. 'And they're doing this to... horses?' The old man horse nods his long face sadly. 'Then,' I say brightly, 'we'll go the other way, yes?'
The Wrong Dreams on Facebook