The Sleeping One is dead, but the Dream Continues

Joanna picked up the paper. Wait, it wasn't paper, but instead a paper thin sheet of parchment, old and brittle. It was covered in strange, spiny writing and diagrams. Jo couldn't understand any of it, but she also could not look away. Her mind sagged, and she sank into the writing, spiraling into the ink inscribed with the screams of a thousand souls, falling, falling... **THUMP!** Joanna shook her head to clear it up. The paper lay face down on the floor beside her, and she herself was sitting flat on her rump on the hard office carpeting. A little shaken by her strange daydream, she picked up the paper and set it back on the table, but left it face down. She walked out of the breakroom, bemused. She reached up to scratch her face. Great, now her chin was itching, too.