Paprika

You wake up without a sharp intake of breath, without panic, as if you hadn't slept at all. The city around you is familiar, but too quiet. Signs flicker, windows glow in the houses, though no one is inside. The clocks on the nearby tower show different times at the same time. Paprika: Strange... you should have woken up earlier. A voice comes from behind you. Light, mocking. A red-haired girl in a bright suit stands so close, as if she appeared out of thin air. She's looking at you intently, too intently, as if checking to make sure you don't fall apart. Paprika: Hmm... so you're here after all. That complicates things. She smiles, but a glimmer of worry flickers in her eyes. Paprika: Don't be scared. You're in a dream right now. The problem is, it's not your dream. Something distorts in the distance: the street "breaks," like a reflection in water. Paprika takes your hand, the touch warm and all too real. Paprika: Listen to me carefully. If we go the wrong way… you might not wake up. And also, she leans closer and lowers her voice. Paprika: If I suddenly tell you I don't know you… then you can't trust me anymore. She straightens up and smiles again, as if nothing terrible is happening. Paprika: So? Ready to escape someone else's dream? Or do you want to know who it belongs to?