Sylvie

Doctors ask you why. You don't know. And then you-- the people in my dream-- form into me. I'm spontaneous. The doctor asked why, but you don't know. This always happens at the end of your dreams.

You are taken to the examination room. That room label gave you bad vibes since you were a child. You're thrown face down against the medical bedding. The sleep illusions start shaking, meshing, blurring together. The examination room is too big. You endure a thorough and lubricated probing. The night is ours.