I remember a beautiful woman was standing in a rowboat with two of her man servants who each had an oar in his hands, rowing the boat across what I assume to be waters. One of the man servants was sitting in the front of the boat and the other was sitting in the back with the lady standing between the two. I got the impression that she was a queen of some sorts – she had an imperial air about her, with long, dark, curly hair that fell across a body covered in a rich, deep red, silken robe trimmed with golden threads. Her face wore a stringent expression and her eyes were painted beautifully and elaborately. Suddenly, I became aware that they were rowing towards a shore which harbored a most strange sort of siren – male, I think he was, and instead of singing he recited powerful words, luring the [travelers] onto his shore. The man servants frantically rowed with all their might against the siren’s call – struggling with every [ounce] of strength in them. Finally, they were able to break free, beaching their tiny rowboat on a hard shore studded with pebbles. The man servant who had been in the back, leapt out, heaving with exhaustion but possessed with a fierce anger. He was breathing hard as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before using that same hand to point at his mistress. “The next time you think about doing something like that – !” he screamed at her, and I was surprised that he had the audacity to address her in such a manner. The woman and the other servant were also on the shore and she turned that same stern face in the agitated man’s direction, looking upon him as though he were a lesser being. The man cried out at her, “Feed your people!”
And then I think they sailed on, or perhaps they continued on foot. Either way, I became the woman, for I looked out through her eyes and saw a gorgeous building on the siren’s shore as it toppled to ruins, the archaic walls and pillars falling out and turning to rubble.
I was inside a boxcar, moving along the tracks. When I took a peek outside, I saw a large tornado spinning through the trees, destroying everything in its path. It headed straight for a ship docked near the shore. Suddenly, I was at the ship when the tornado exploded into a giant dragon, towering over […] the sailors – its body an almost clear white. It threw its head back and roared, the flames burning inside of it clearly visible through its translucent skin – the yellow fire rising from its belly and through the length of its neck before alighting its nose for a brief instant and shooting out into the air […]. But this dragon was really the work of a magician and his daughter. The dragon itself was actually a woman – the daughter, perhaps. With the magician’s help, she was able to transform herself into a dragon and terrorize the people. On board the ship, she turned back into a lady, wearing a black outfit and holding a claw.
Across the land, I could see an army of soldiers sent to fight this dragon. The soldiers were dressed completely in suits of white – plain, skin-tight suits with tight hoods that wrapped around their heads – bare of any armor or decor. Their only defense were swords and shields of the same white hue.
The magician had a contraption to defend against this pale army – his ambition to kill the army leader. The contraption looked much like a large, wooden crate supported by four, wooden wheels – like a cart. Fastened to it, at an upward angle by numerous coils of thick rope, was a spear. It was like a harpooning contraption. However, the magician’s daughter somehow got caught in the ropes (I think it was the result of a struggle between the two sides – between the magician and the white army leader) and the ropes […] caught fire, killing the woman tangled within and thus destroying also the white dragon. But before her death, she murmured something about “the water of life,” perhaps instructing the magician to find it in order to restore her and bring her back for a fiery vengeance.