The Treehouse

[Hope]

When you first enter the Dream, you will wake to the sight of sunlight through leaves, dappled green and gold shining down upon your face through the canopy of branches that passes for a roof. There will be the sound of old, worn wooden boards creaking as you roll over, stretch, stand, brace yourself against one wooden wall for support. There is a rope ladder hanging down from the doorway. You will climb down it, shakily, your movements still clumsy with sleep; and when you reach the bottom, you will find yourself in a meadow. Verdant, vibrantly green, bursting with a riot of wildflowers that would shame any painter's palette with their beauty, the grassy plain seems to extend almost to forever, beyond the end of the blazing blue sky. This place is paradise, an oasis of light in the midst of darkness. It is the only place the Denizens will not go, a place for Dreamwalkers to recuperate and rest. But the spires of Necropolis reach into the sky, death-black fingers on the horizon. The mountains of the Floodplain can be seen in the east, cloaked in mist and shadow. The Woods ring the edges of the meadow, dark and deep and silent, no light shining through their trees. The Dream is calling. And you are here to answer it.