Your dreams are feverish and frightening, filled with a sense of primal energy and unordered power. The shapes and forms you've come to expect to compose reality have disappeared, replaced by inhuman oddities and alien geometries.
You walk down streets of malformed cobblestone, each stone glowing and shaking in a dizzying manner. Quiet murmurings fill your ears, and you look up to find windows floating in the air, indistinct feature-less faces peering down at you. The streets themselves are empty.
Looking up even further, the morning sun fills your vision, a simple spiral of purple rather than the blinding disk of white you expect.
A twist in your perspective, and you find yourself high in the air staring down at a nauseating view of the cobblestone streets, spreading out in a web along your entire field of vision. Then, one by one, needles float down and penetrate the ground, where they strike, the network of streets losing their luster and life, leaving your world dim.
Faintly, you see a rain of arrows come down on a blue opalescent serpent, striking a wooden cross that appears in their path, which then withers into nothingness. An unearthly cry from the serpent fills your ears and as they're left ringing, you see the creature fold in on itself with a white glow.
It explodes into a mass of red feathers as a regal bird emerges, and here your perspective shifts again, lifting your point of view even higher until you see what looks like Hong Kong island and Kowloon. Your vision shakes and it appears the very seafloor is rising out of the water, surrounding the local Hong Kong area with jagged stone.
Your vision returns to the street level, the buildings and structures of Hong Kong replaced by trees of a pure black, with branches of jagged crystal and no leaves. A small crowd stands nearby, their heads replaced with large pyramids adorned by a single eye. A chill wind blows through, rattling you to your bones, and the crowd vanishes.
Then a view of a mountaintop, as the spiralling purple sun descends over the peek. You instinctively cry out as a wail of despair jolts your ears, bringing you to your knees. When you look up, a soft glow has enveloped the mountain and you see at your feet shattered shards of obsidian.
Upon closer examination, the shards have the pattern of a tortoise's shell, and they are warm, almost hot, to the touch. From the corner of your eye, you see a blazing red as the tip of a rounded triangular shape pierces the peak of the mountain. Then everything goes white.
Eventually, you wake up the same time the others do, feeling shaken, cold, and weak. The kind of sensation where you try to close your fist around something but find you simply don't have the strength or energy to do so.