I dreamt I was a Canadian diplomat in a Slavic country at the start of a ghost possession plague
It moved like slow purple lightning across the body starting at the hands like plasma filaments and stigmata
It turned the blood clear with a heavy translucent purple layer at the bottom of any sample
Some balding serious intelligence official with a walking stick asked me if there was a cure, and I said I don’t see how there possibly could be. And he the nodded and left the room
Then the guy I was there to meet said I got a pouch from the mansion, which I knew meant the Canadian embassy
I said “I’ll bet I did” like well no shit
The pouch was a box that had leftovers from a famous local mill fire and a tape recorder
When I opened it it smelled like fire and cooked meat, and the tape had like ghost recordings, classified proof, they were the ghosts doing the plague
It was beautiful and like white at the tips
And blue at the base and it opened into like spokes or roots at skin level
The closer to skin the more white
Purple as it extended
The end
