It keeps happening, night after night.
At first it seems like you are awake but you know you are dreaming. Each night you drift off to sleep and you awake in your own bed, save your bed is no longer in your room, but laying in the middle of a frozen field. You feel the flakes of snow hit your face, feel the harsh tundra winds pound against your bones, and your feet numb to the rime that covers the blades of grass.
In the beginning, it was the field, then the snow came the next night, at first it was soft, then over the next few days it grew harsh and then the angry wind came along. You struggle to keep your teeth from chattering, even though you know it's just a dream and you are really lying in the bed you made in the room you own.
With each occurrence, another element is added, like the pages of a Pathfinder Society chapbook, and the story of the cold blade cutting through you is laid out over the hours of your sleeping mind's eye. Four nights ago you began to notice a man on a hill but a few dozen yards away, you call out to him but he does not reply. Three nights ago you gathered your strength to climb from the bed and begin the arduous trek across the icy field, only to wake before reaching him. Two nights ago you made it closer and saw that he had a mastiff companion by his side, the massive hulking hound looked your way but paid you no real mind and just as you reached the spot of the mysterious figure, you awoke again, angry and wondering if one more night would bring the needed closure of your nocturnal travels.
Last night you climbed into bed, you drifted off to sleep and this time, you awoke in the same field, bounded off the mattress and sprinted towards the man but when you reached him you were less interested in who he was and more in what he was looking to over the ridge.
The man was looking down on a small village that was on the precipice of an extra-dimensional portal from which spewed dark black storm clouds, angry looking blue skinned trolls, giants, and a crone who rode behind four masked riders. The riders; one red, one green, one white, and one black lead the charge of this ghastly horde into the depths of the unsuspecting town and within minutes, slaughtered every man, woman, child and beast as they lay sleeping. With as much fury as they arrived, they disappeared back into the yawning portal and with a loud pop the whole host was gone, barely an hour in real time, or a blink in your dream world. The man took your stunned hand and walked you down the hill and into the burning and ruined village, his eyes never looking ahead, only to your face as if he was trying to gauge your response to the horror you had just witnessed.
As you, the man and his canine companion surveyed the slaughter, a cry goes out from the darkness, imploring you for help and mercy. The man smiles a bit when you look to him for guidance and urges you silently to entertain your sense of morbid curiosity at the shriek or pain and fright. Shifting through the charnel remains you find a young man hidden under the remains of what appears to be his father, the boy is but 10 winters, not a hair on his face but he held forth a dagger in defense of his home against this onslaught and paid the price for his lack of prowess. You lift the child, tears streaming from your face as you see that there is nothing you can do for the multitude of ailments that line his fragile frame, and walk him towards the man, hoping that he can help you and the child. You rush to his side and his eyes look to you with deep pity and as he shakes his head at you as if to suggest that he can do nothing for the fallen but after a moment you realize that he understands more of what is going on that you initially believed.
He turns and begins to walk away with the dog at his side and then vanishes into the dark of the winters evening. You fall you your knees, clutching the child to your chest, sobbing over the immensity of the acts you have witnessed. Steeling yourself, you look down to see not the recently killed body of a child, but the desiccated remains of one that had died centuries ago.
You cry out, dropping the corpse and backpedaling on your hands and feet through a ruin of what must have once been the town of your dreams, this snaps you out of your sleep and you awake in your bed covered in sweat and struggling to catch your breath. Pulling close the flagon of water from your bedside, you drink deep the cool water and pull back the covers to reveal mud and grass on your feet and linens!
The scream begins in your mind and by the time you realize that it has left your lips, you hear a chorus of the same coming from the rooms of your companions...