I have a really weird dream that night. A beautiful island moves through the water, propelled by nothing. It's covered with ferns and trees so dense I can't see across it, though it can't be more than fifty yards across. It comes closer to the shore of the beach I'm standing on. Without hesitation, I walk right into the calm water without breaking stride. As my head slips beneath the waves, the dream changes.
The water no longer calm tries to crush me from all sides, forces its way into my lungs, suffocating me. I try to claw my way to the surface, only to find a vacuum with no air. I struggle against a sudden undertow to reach the sandy shore, but to no avail. In my frustration, I scream at the top of my lungs, but cannot hear it for the lack of air. Suddenly, a shape appears on the dark sand. I think it's a person. He—or she—is holding a light, but it does not reach their face. The hooded stranger only stands there.
Unexpectedly, I am able to swim to shore, as if the warmth of the fire-light is calling me. The flames leap out of the lantern and dance around the stranger and me.
"Who are you?" I ask, but the stranger does not seem to hear me. (S)he only gives me a message scrawled in unfamiliar writing on a scroll.
Your Time is running Out is all it says.
"Running out?" I look up at the figure, but (s)he's vanished, leaving me alone in the comfortable circle of fire. "What does this mean…?"