You wait for a moment and breathe deeply, then you dream.

You dream of a woman standing beneath a pink storm cloud. She stands still, staring up at the uneasy sky above. For the first time in a long time, you find yourself feeling. The air around you is hot and sticky and throbbing with electricity.

The woman turns, and as she moves she flutters, as if leaving a trail of herself, a superimposed twin sister following a moment later in her wake.

“Look what you have brought here,” she says angrily. “A universe and I should have been safe from it, and now, you have walked into dreams with the need. Like a guest who has not checked their shoes, you have walked something grotesque and unclean into my house.”

The two women, the original and her after-image, glare at you in a mixture of horror and fury.

Above, dark spirals of lightning are corkscrewing through the cloud.