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An ethereal beautiful and young crimson-haired woman with intricate feather-like travel attire from the nineteenth century is walking in a gigantic meadow of black and red roses, widely spread under a black sky dominated by a blood and blue warm moon, circled by fuming foggy dark clouds wherein shadows are barely visible. The view is from another hill. Behind her, her steps have left a trail of rainbow flourishing steps from which lively little cute creatures emerge and go explore the rest of the world. She has regal attire and her calm gaze encompasses everything that is, everything that was, and everything that could be. She might be Life or Death, interconnected to everyone and everything in this once forsaken land. She has the finest of facial features and her skin is of porcelain. On her forhead, there is a very thin metallic diadem with tiny ruby stones shining into the night above and where the soft light where she walks is reflected. The woman seems frail, but the scene is evoking an out-of-time moment, where silence has fallen, but where life still fights on.
Not quite where I was headed, but dreams can lead you to places you did not think you wanted to go... Life and Death are just a dream apart.