Bran watched her turn even as her voice became fainter and fainter, while everything that was his - the trees, his piano, the bodies - melted away to inky blackness. He couldn't see her anymore, and in blind desperation he reached out to see if he could feel her--
And promptly sat up in his pitiful excuse for a bed, arm outstretched in the fuzzy darkness of his bedroom. Bran blinked, momentarily disoriented before he realized where he was.
It was just a dream... but it had seemed so real. Who the hell had the woman been, though? She had to have been a product of his own mind - how could she have been an actual living person? He'd had countless dreams before, mainly nightmares, but none had been like that. He didn't like the lingering sense of familiarity, and frustration prompted him to get up and open a window, letting the cool breeze calm him for the moment.