Maybe the following won't make sense to anyone reading this, but thought I'd just write down everything I can remember for my own reference.
I am at a party ... mixed in with humans were three-foot tall halflings with pointed ears and blue-skinned creatures with ethereal voices. I (along with two other people) are having a conversation with a elderly, elfin-faced woman who describes herself as a pixie ... and as our conversation progress, something about her bothers me.
She was effacatious and charming ... but the more I talked with her, the more uneasy I got. I excuse myself and approach the hostess of the party about this person.
Before I could say a word, she starts: "I've noticed her too. She's never come to any of my gatherings before and nobody here seems to know her. She is not what she claims to be."
She lowers her voice further. "There is something ancient and evil about that one."
I look over and see the pixie has three people eating out of her hand with some story that is beyond my earshot.
So what do we do?
"You were right to sense something was wrong. No pixie ever calls herself that. If she were, she's a 'waif' or something along those lines. I need your help to confirm my suspicions ... if she is what I think she is, we need to get her alone."
The kindly, grandmotherly-looking hostess' voice took a hard edge: "Then we must kill her."
A sense of dread and fear shoots through me. What sort of strange evil infiltrated this innocent party?
"Come with me. I need you to distract her so I can get something." She took me by my arm and put on her 'hostess' smile as she walks back to the pixie and her enthralled audience.
"How are you all enjoying the party dear?" she asks in her charming voice, as she and I clear away the used dishes and goblets at the table.
"Wonderful! You must let me know when you are having another one of these gatherings!" the pixie replies.
"Oh, I shall!" our hostess smiles, as she moves behind her. Swift as a stage magician, she plucks a stray hair from the back of the pixie's crown and tucks it into her sleeve.
"Let's get these dishes to the kitchen, shall we?"
There is a pot already boiling when we get there ... bubbling with strange-smelling reagents and herbs. It's a modern-day cauldron, a giant pot of stainless steel, set atop a gas-burning range beneath an air vent.
"I hate this part."
She lifts up the lid and removes the strand of hair from the pixie. "You might want to turn around for this, dear."
I turn three quarters away as she dropped the hair into the cauldron and feel a flash of light, a smell of something rotten burning.
I hear the hostesses voice, shaking with fear "Oooh no."
... and then I awoke.
What the bloody hell was that all about?