She dreamed of mountains that night.
They were tall, and white, and they all looked like perfect porcelain copies of each other. Soft clouds crowned their peaks against a bright blue sky. There was a sun in the sky, too, and it cast warm light on the mountains and made them shine like the prettiest stones.
She was walking towards the mountains. She did not think to ask why. There were miles of gray sand between her and the mountains, and all she thought was that it would be nice if she could leave the sand and quickly get to those beautiful white mountains. But no matter how long she walked, the distance always looked the same. It made her feel sad.
Then she heard a single bang! that swept across the sand and made her ears ring, and she stopped walking. The mountains had cracked. It was as if everything really was made of one big piece of porcelain, and it had just been smashed by an invisible hammer. A long, jagged crack ran right through all of the mountains from left to right, and even cracked the sky in some spots. Inside the crack was darkness. The crack widened, and the darkness poured out.
It covered every inch of the mountains until nothing white was left. Then it rose up, and it wrapped around the sun so tightly no more light touched the earth. And then it flowed down the mountains and over the gray sand.
She could not move. Suddenly this dream had become a bad dream, and she wanted to wake up. The black smoke grew thick and heavy as it mixed with the sand. It became a roaring avalanche, shaking the whole world, rolling and tumbling toward her like a hungry mouth, and it swallowed the sand and the clouds and the sky and –
– the bed, the walls, the room were gone. She was falling.