A few nights ago, I dreamt that I was injured with some lacerations while hiking through a rugged mountain during a snowstorm, barely seeing anything through it, asides from multiple small silhouettes trailing behind me from the distance, following my footprints and bloodtrail.

I felt an intense sense of fear, and as soon as I saw some distant birch trees, I had the idea to make my way there and lose them. But, as I hurriedly tried walking to the trees, the distance between us wouldn’t shorten, while the black little silhouettes were coming closer and closer, almost hearing what’s akin to snickering and chatter. I remember that I fainted in my dream soon after, and when I “woke up”, I was greeted with the faces of some curious and inquistive Sneasels, staring at me as I laid down inside a warm cave.

When I attempted to wake up, the three jumped back and, like, waved their claws around over their heads and made some faces, or something. Their leader, a Weavile, chattered at them from the distance, and then the Sneasels stopped “playing” with me and moved away. I couldn’t exactly sit up well, but there were leaves and some sticky sweet-smelling substance over my wounds, which I presume were makeshift bandages. I turned my head towards where most of the feral Sneasels and their Weavile leader were huddling near a fire, searching through what looks like a bag, which I knew was mine since it looked like my real life one.

I recall some other things happening after this segment of the dream, but can’t remember what were they exactly.