[Stepping into one of his dreams will make you suddenly feel cold; a forest, covered in snow, everything eerily quiet. On the ground among the bloodied snow, several bodies, the signs of a previous fight in a campsite. Deeper into the forest, the source of the dream - a younger-looking Aramis, his hair longer, his head crudely bandaged, trying to crawl over to the others, to reach them, to take a discarded pauldron left behind by someone.
If you stay long enough, the snow falling will become rain instead, the forest disappearing to become a series of crosses instead, set up on a graveyard - the pauldron now a sword stuck into the ground like it's a new cross joining the others.]
[In another dream, there's also a lot of white, this time from the walls of the large, fancy chambers that look like they belong to a mansion, or a castle, more like. These rooms are all empty, save for one, where Aramis can be found next to a very fancy, pretty crib, standing straight by its side as if on guard duty. Only he's singing, a soft, sad lullaby... singing to himself, it would seem, as the crib is empty.]