You're not the only one—[ And in the end it didn't matter which numbers they picked. What comes out of the three doors is a wave of black goo that whispers insecurities and issues, some that are easy to relate to and some that are impossible to understand.
Some of it is just repetitions of what the students said earlier, but then others whisper wanting to be a better person, wanting to be stronger, braver, resolute—and finally the last and biggest wave that drowns them speaks about only one theme.
Ruin. Ruin.
"Your future is riddled with ruin... And all those who lend you their strength will fall in the same fate."
It's hard to breathe, almost suffocating. The goo slowly seeps into your skin, into your orifices, and consumes you. Finally the dream ends in complete darkness. ]
no subject
Some of it is just repetitions of what the students said earlier, but then others whisper wanting to be a better person, wanting to be stronger, braver, resolute—and finally the last and biggest wave that drowns them speaks about only one theme.
Ruin. Ruin.
"Your future is riddled with ruin... And all those who lend you their strength will fall in the same fate."
Ruin. Ruin. Ruin... All that's left is ruin.
Ṛ̛̟̹̠̺̺̬͉͋̍̂͒̀̌̋͑͘u̶̡̧͓̙͕̜̞̐͊̐̆̐̋ị̛͓̲̬̼̠̲̺́͋͒̆́͛̇͟͝n͈̦̩͇͔̏́͛̿̔͜͡.̛͕͔̰͔̘͓̌̀̌̑́͘͢͞͡ͅ A̸̲̳̺͇͓͐̐͋͑͠ĺ̶̬̫̯͍̜̰̱̞͗͗̃̄͘l̗̝̗̤̱̘̄͗͋̐̆̕͜ t̷͍͈̠͖͓̞͒̎̄͐͂͢ͅh͖̺̠͉́̀̂̋͐̽͜͠e̵̛͉̣̮̺̖̘̺͔͎̔̾͒͛̉͗̕r̼͓͇̥̟̘̝̀̋̈́̃̐͟͟͠ͅē̡̡̳̮͍͍̲̙̱͂̏̀̆̔ ĩ̵̛͙̰̙̩̻͛̄̅̽̚ş̯͔̗̬̱͈͇́̓̒̄̍̈́̐̓̋̓ͅ ḯ̵̡̱̯̲̬̟̭̹̲̽̒̒̚͜ṣ̡̝͔̘̠̖̆̾̐͂̍̏̉ R̷̛̤̪̪̞̝̭͉͖̔̐͋͝u̡͍͔̥̭͈̒̀̓͒̏̒̓̌̓͘͟i̷̡̧̤͙̪͑͐̌̒͘͠n̵̡͙̱͉̄̍̅̚͜͞ į̭̦̬̲̼͉̗͍̜̀̓̈́́͒ň̹̬̝̺͍̝̍͛́͆͘ y̸̖̥̼̩̘̺̙̣͕̘̓̾͑́͒̚͠o̵̮͈̜̮͕̐̐̏̓̒̽̾͢͢͠û̵̠̙͚͖̬̒̓̊̕̕͝r̸̢̘̱̟͖͎̮̉͗̓͂̎͗͐̆ f̨̬̳͖͖̀̓̃̇͢͢͝ů̢͖̪̝̯͕͖̃͂͒̍̓̀̇͞͞t̨̲̫̣̲̘̰̩͒̾̀̀͛̎̑̑͜u͈͍͇̠̞͔̾̒̅̇̐̂͋́͢r̵͙̦̋̽̾͌̌̿̈́͢͟ͅȩ̻̭͚͕̙̗̝̿̊̈́̏̆̚ͅ.̪͙͍̗̘̉̀̈́̄͂͒̔͆̆ͅ R̛̹̘̰͙̖̹͔͊͗̅̋̈̀ü̘̱̘̼͖̰͒͋͊̋̆͒̋̉͜i̴̛̙̟̺̗̦̳͗̃̚͞n̸̡̛͚̖̘̖̰̘͚̏͊̌̇.̝̬͓͕͈͂̂̑͂̅̆͞ Ṙ̷̢̰̪̞̋̐̽̿͗͘͜͞͞ͅu̸̙̠̫̱͚͈̲̻͇͊́̓̅́͡͝͝ī̜͙̫̞͖̏̑̽̌͗ṅ͖̞͉̳̱̩̃̀͛̈̎̽̈́͘̕ͅ.̨̫͕̼̜̱͉͔̰͕̋̀̒̆̌̍ Ṙ̤̙̖̬̟̟̐̓̓̍̾ų̵̰͔̮̤̑̇̈͊̔̓͝i̵̡̞͈̲͓̥͋̓͂̉̉̚͟͞ͅn̸̡̲̺̰̳̲̼̹̫͆̎͆͂̊́̍͝.̶̡͕͚̟̤̥̙̒̿͆̄͠͝͠͡͡͞ R̸̢̖̫̭̥͕̝̈́̇̓̏̾̋͂̚̕͠u̶̢̨̼͈̽̓͌͌̂̓̑͟͜͝i̴̝̣̳̯̥̟͚̊͊̌͒̕̚͟͢͟͡͠͞͞n̶̪̲͇̘̪̹͊́͂̃̽̄͠.̶̘̲̫͇̟̗͙̌̃̀̏̔́͊̽͢Ṛ̛̟̹̠̺̺̬͉͋̍̂͒̀̌̋͑͘u̶̡̧͓̙͕̜̞̐͊̐̆̐̋ị̛͓̲̬̼̠̲̺́͋͒̆́͛̇͟͝n͈̦̩͇͔̏́͛̿̔͜͡.̛͕͔̰͔̘͓̌̀̌̑́͘͢͞͡ͅ A̸̲̳̺͇͓͐̐͋͑͠ĺ̶̬̫̯͍̜̰̱̞͗͗̃̄͘l̗̝̗̤̱̘̄͗͋̐̆̕͜ t̷͍͈̠͖͓̞͒̎̄͐͂͢ͅh͖̺̠͉́̀̂̋͐̽͜͠e̵̛͉̣̮̺̖̘̺͔͎̔̾͒͛̉͗̕r̼͓͇̥̟̘̝̀̋̈́̃̐͟͟͠ͅē̡̡̳̮͍͍̲̙̱͂̏̀̆̔ ĩ̵̛͙̰̙̩̻͛̄̅̽̚ş̯͔̗̬̱͈͇́̓̒̄̍̈́̐̓̋̓ͅ ḯ̵̡̱̯̲̬̟̭̹̲̽̒̒̚͜ṣ̡̝͔̘̠̖̆̾̐͂̍̏̉ R̷̛̤̪̪̞̝̭͉͖̔̐͋͝u̡͍͔̥̭͈̒̀̓͒̏̒̓̌̓͘͟i̷̡̧̤͙̪͑͐̌̒͘͠n̵̡͙̱͉̄̍̅̚͜͞ į̭̦̬̲̼͉̗͍̜̀̓̈́́͒ň̹̬̝̺͍̝̍͛́͆͘ y̸̖̥̼̩̘̺̙̣͕̘̓̾͑́͒̚͠o̵̮͈̜̮͕̐̐̏̓̒̽̾͢͢͠û̵̠̙͚͖̬̒̓̊̕̕͝r̸̢̘̱̟͖͎̮̉͗̓͂̎͗͐̆ f̨̬̳͖͖̀̓̃̇͢͢͝ů̢͖̪̝̯͕͖̃͂͒̍̓̀̇͞͞t̨̲̫̣̲̘̰̩͒̾̀̀͛̎̑̑͜u͈͍͇̠̞͔̾̒̅̇̐̂͋́͢r̵͙̦̋̽̾͌̌̿̈́͢͟ͅȩ̻̭͚͕̙̗̝̿̊̈́̏̆̚ͅ.̪͙͍̗̘̉̀̈́̄͂͒̔͆̆ͅ R̛̹̘̰͙̖̹͔͊͗̅̋̈̀ü̘̱̘̼͖̰͒͋͊̋̆͒̋̉͜i̴̛̙̟̺̗̦̳͗̃̚͞n̸̡̛͚̖̘̖̰̘͚̏͊̌̇.̝̬͓͕͈͂̂̑͂̅̆͞ Ṙ̷̢̰̪̞̋̐̽̿͗͘͜͞͞ͅu̸̙̠̫̱͚͈̲̻͇͊́̓̅́͡͝͝ī̜͙̫̞͖̏̑̽̌͗ṅ͖̞͉̳̱̩̃̀͛̈̎̽̈́͘̕ͅ.̨̫͕̼̜̱͉͔̰͕̋̀̒̆̌̍ Ṙ̤̙̖̬̟̟̐̓̓̍̾ų̵̰͔̮̤̑̇̈͊̔̓͝i̵̡̞͈̲͓̥͋̓͂̉̉̚͟͞ͅn̸̡̲̺̰̳̲̼̹̫͆̎͆͂̊́̍͝.̶̡͕͚̟̤̥̙̒̿͆̄͠͝͠͡͡͞ R̸̢̖̫̭̥͕̝̈́̇̓̏̾̋͂̚̕͠u̶̢̨̼͈̽̓͌͌̂̓̑͟͜͝i̴̝̣̳̯̥̟͚̊͊̌͒̕̚͟͢͟͡͠͞͞n̶̪̲͇̘̪̹͊́͂̃̽̄͠.̶̘̲̫͇̟̗͙̌̃̀̏̔́͊̽͢
Ṛ̛̟̹̠̺̺̬͉͋̍̂͒̀̌̋͑͘u̶̡̧͓̙͕̜̞̐͊̐̆̐̋ị̛͓̲̬̼̠̲̺́͋͒̆́͛̇͟͝n͈̦̩͇͔̏́͛̿̔͜͡.̛͕͔̰͔̘͓̌̀̌̑́͘͢͞͡ͅ A̸̲̳̺͇͓͐̐͋͑͠ĺ̶̬̫̯͍̜̰̱̞͗͗̃̄͘l̗̝̗̤̱̘̄͗͋̐̆̕͜ t̷͍͈̠͖͓̞͒̎̄͐͂͢ͅh͖̺̠͉́̀̂̋͐̽͜͠e̵̛͉̣̮̺̖̘̺͔͎̔̾͒͛̉͗̕r̼͓͇̥̟̘̝̀̋̈́̃̐͟͟͠ͅē̡̡̳̮͍͍̲̙̱͂̏̀̆̔ ĩ̵̛͙̰̙̩̻͛̄̅̽̚ş̯͔̗̬̱͈͇́̓̒̄̍̈́̐̓̋̓ͅ ḯ̵̡̱̯̲̬̟̭̹̲̽̒̒̚͜ṣ̡̝͔̘̠̖̆̾̐͂̍̏̉ R̷̛̤̪̪̞̝̭͉͖̔̐͋͝u̡͍͔̥̭͈̒̀̓͒̏̒̓̌̓͘͟i̷̡̧̤͙̪͑͐̌̒͘͠n̵̡͙̱͉̄̍̅̚͜͞ į̭̦̬̲̼͉̗͍̜̀̓̈́́͒ň̹̬̝̺͍̝̍͛́͆͘ y̸̖̥̼̩̘̺̙̣͕̘̓̾͑́͒̚͠o̵̮͈̜̮͕̐̐̏̓̒̽̾͢͢͠û̵̠̙͚͖̬̒̓̊̕̕͝r̸̢̘̱̟͖͎̮̉͗̓͂̎͗͐̆ f̨̬̳͖͖̀̓̃̇͢͢͝ů̢͖̪̝̯͕͖̃͂͒̍̓̀̇͞͞t̨̲̫̣̲̘̰̩͒̾̀̀͛̎̑̑͜u͈͍͇̠̞͔̾̒̅̇̐̂͋́͢r̵͙̦̋̽̾͌̌̿̈́͢͟ͅȩ̻̭͚͕̙̗̝̿̊̈́̏̆̚ͅ.̪͙͍̗̘̉̀̈́̄͂͒̔͆̆ͅ R̛̹̘̰͙̖̹͔͊͗̅̋̈̀ü̘̱̘̼͖̰͒͋͊̋̆͒̋̉͜i̴̛̙̟̺̗̦̳͗̃̚͞n̸̡̛͚̖̘̖̰̘͚̏͊̌̇.̝̬͓͕͈͂̂̑͂̅̆͞ Ṙ̷̢̰̪̞̋̐̽̿͗͘͜͞͞ͅu̸̙̠̫̱͚͈̲̻͇͊́̓̅́͡͝͝ī̜͙̫̞͖̏̑̽̌͗ṅ͖̞͉̳̱̩̃̀͛̈̎̽̈́͘̕ͅ.̨̫͕̼̜̱͉͔̰͕̋̀̒̆̌̍ Ṙ̤̙̖̬̟̟̐̓̓̍̾ų̵̰͔̮̤̑̇̈͊̔̓͝i̵̡̞͈̲͓̥͋̓͂̉̉̚͟͞ͅn̸̡̲̺̰̳̲̼̹̫͆̎͆͂̊́̍͝.̶̡͕͚̟̤̥̙̒̿͆̄͠͝͠͡͡͞ R̸̢̖̫̭̥͕̝̈́̇̓̏̾̋͂̚̕͠u̶̢̨̼͈̽̓͌͌̂̓̑͟͜͝i̴̝̣̳̯̥̟͚̊͊̌͒̕̚͟͢͟͡͠͞͞n̶̪̲͇̘̪̹͊́͂̃̽̄͠.̶̘̲̫͇̟̗͙̌̃̀̏̔́͊̽͢
It's hard to breathe, almost suffocating. The goo slowly seeps into your skin, into your orifices, and consumes you. Finally the dream ends in complete darkness. ]