Dreamer/Nightmare

Writhing, the twisted body seethed in the murky glowing green-yellow fluid sloshing around the in the chamber suspended by metal ribs. The vat hung in the heart of a titanic black metal skeleton that stretched away into the darkness. Silhouetted against the faintly buzzing lights dangling from the ceiling, the outline of four arms were visible loosely, their edges loos and undefined, swirling and suggestive.
The figure in the vat arched back, hinging it's mouth open to let out a terrified inaudible shriek. Silence hung in the damp caustic air, pulsing with the distance sounds of industrial machines above.
A guttural sound emanated from all around, an oppressive and choking presence flooded in: "The dreamer lies dead, screaming. I am the Nightmare"
In a flash of darkness huge tendrils of shadow exploded from the vat, wrapping their dripping Stygian forms over the massive rigging skeleton around the figure, enervating the metal with madness and movement. The arms rotated under the influence of the horror spiraling around their riveted bones, grappling the rafters of the high vaulted ceiling and lifting the cranking body off the ground. With the other two arms dragging on floor, the mechanical nightmare swung across the roof.

Those who venture to the realm between reality and thought often find themselves uneasily calm; the mind--a fluid construct--adapts well to any pseudo-consistent framework of reality, readily acquiescing to bounds of logic a more conscious mind would gawk at. For those who journey the interplane, the bleeding together of dream and wake becomes common place; the dreamer has as much effect on the manifested reality as anyone who could be deemed awake. The seeping of the dream logics into the sub-conscious/super-liminal plane is a hazard readily faced by anyone who finds themselves trapped between.