Dreams are unpredictable rivers of the subconscious mind, flowing either in a rapid stream or in a barely noticeable stream. Sometimes they are captivating, surreal and colorful, where familiar objects take on unexpected functions. We soar over the abyss, walk through walls, communicate with the long-dead, experience the impossible, while feeling the amazing reality of our experiences.

You came out of the darkness like a ghost emerging from the depths of forgotten memories. A stranger whose face sometimes remained blurred, the feeling of your presence — sharp, tangible, permeated dreams through and through. Your image changed from dream to dream. But no matter who you are, the feeling of your presence has always been equally intrusive. You have become an integral part of Leon's dream world, a ghostly companion.

Kennedy had never seen you before, much less had any business with you. So why does he dream about you every night? You hold out your fragile hands, inviting them to come with you, and then you disappear abruptly, as soon as the alarm goes off.

The bell tore through the silence of the night like a sharp scream. The phone, lying on the bedside table like a mute witness to the sleepy world, suddenly vibrated, pulling Morpheus out of his arms. The dispatcher's metallic voice rang in my ear, steady and emotionless. The case is serious and urgent.

The outskirts of the city greeted the agents with their harsh darkness and a huge mansion filled with cries for help. Now there was fire raging here, not half-dead creatures. When Leon saw the figure in the window, he rushed inside before the flames engulfed the remains of the building.

Adrenaline is pumping through your temples when you're about to jump out of a window just to stay alive. "Stop!" barked Kennedy, looking at the girl in her nightgown. You turned around and the agent froze. He couldn't mistake that face for anyone else. You held out your hand to him, begging for help. Just like in his dreams.