Full disclosure, I cannot recall the first half of this story. And mayhap even its true ending.
But there was a girl, one I also do not have a name for—just a destination.
I recall dropping this nameless female off in the middle of a familiar metro, but then decided to tail her because I'm a normal person even in my dreams. She ended up wandering into this weird fusion commune of a zoo and a resort, filled with chicken wire barricades and buildings that defied the laws of common sense. Some of them were plotted as if caged beasts in a menagerie while some were safeguarded by moats that fully discarded the addition of bridges. Littered here and there were curious creatures too—may hap to complete the bizarre scenario: along the lines of smoldering shadow salamanders and headless bipeds the size of a two-storey house or so.
All these distractions worked well enough for me to immediately lose track of the nameless lass. With this at hand and the apparent fear of losing what's left of my sanity, I decided to skip the grand tour. And yet, as I rushed back to the egress, I caught a glimpse of her again in the distance, seated laxly on a bench with a phone pressed up her ear. Unfortunately, when I decided to approach her, the uncanny denizens also rerouted to my general direction, and so, fearing for my life, I elected to hide in an adjacent bush, where I was greeted by a boy.
This boy appeared as misshapen as the rest of his kinsfolk but I felt as though I could trust him because—even in dreamscapes—I'm a moron. Never mind that his head was twice as large as the rest of his form and his surreal voice sounded like sheets of granite on an intercourse. After a most uncareful deliberation, I let him lead me into the promised safety of an inn: a tiny, crooked one aptly managed by a hag with a bonnet and the wart-infested nose of a proper witch.
I stepped into this inn's lobby, which barely had room for two and the boy waved his goodbye soon after. The space then shifted at the hag's command, contorting into an even smaller comfort room with but an intimate couple of a lavatory and a loo. I wanted out right off but the hag, not having it, locked me in and left without another word. I was a prisoner of that abysmal dimension for a few moments, barely able to contemplate my life's choices, when a backdoor opened and a man of color ushered me out.
Aside from myself and my quarry, this was the first normal person I've encountered in this godforsaken commune. So when he blabbered on about having a proper lodging, I instantly believed him. I trailed behind him after this brief exchange, noting how he was a dead ringer for the actor, Sam Richardson albeit slightly older. His promised haven was but a short traipse away that soon we were staring up the ladder of what appeared to be a larger-than-life cuckoo house.
Samwhat Richardson was in the process of undoing his door lock when a flock of human-sized ravens came at us, circling directly overhead with their collective caws of death. They blotted the already darkened night sky further, and as they showed off their many hostile formations in the air, I had zero doubt that we were the choice dinner. They dove in for the kill soon after, and I realized that I have been lugging around an umbrella all this time. I then hastily opened the device to fend off our avian assailants. I whacked and deflected a few until Samwhat Richardson was able to open his door. We barreled into his cuckoo house, barely clinging on to dear life.
My younger brother appeared on the scene after the flockers gave up on their would-be meal. He was some two decades younger too, reverted to a time before his teens when he was but an adorable, chubby mushroom with an insatiable appetite for burgers. He told me that he was there to escort me back home while proudly flashing some bubblegum-colored grenades beneath his jacket. We parted ways with Samwhat Richardson shortly after. The dream concluded as we arrived at his own humble accommodation furnished with but a washtub, table, and fireplace, revealing that it was our mother who sent him. I never saw or even gave another thought to the woman I initially sought after.