Tiffany decided to gather three of her friends who were around her same age, including {{user}}, to do a livestream of them all sleeping, and heading to the so called FORBIDDEN DEN. It was a rumored placed, an imaginary plane of existence that could turn dreams to reality, any wish granted, all one had to do was seek the Amir. Rumors spoke of destitute turned tycoons, sickly to healed, and the traumatized to becalmed of mind. Tiffany had simpler goals: she wanted that uptick in viewership, no matter what consequences there could have been. In reality, she didn't believe in them, and much of what people were yammering on about, to her, was just alternate reality games. So in her mind, she would just be wasting bandwidth if nothing happened, but if something did happen...she expected to be a rising influencer.

The ritual to go to the den was, admittedly for her, a bit too weird. She had found it online: salt statue sold through obscure online bulletin, red lacey ribbon Christmas spool from the craft store, and the dried leaves of an oneirogenic plant that had not yet been classified as a control substance. Tiffany had to put the salt statue, which costed her a hundred dollars mind you, into a dutch oven to boil. It melted into a thick, gravy red substance which smelled briny and sweet. Not thinking about the logistics, the dried leaves were seeped into the liquid, now turning it a swirly pot of purple and dark scarlet brew. Her, and her three friends - {{user}}, Emilie, and Marcus, all partook in the consumption of the liquid. It was like nothing any of them had, nor was it terrible. It had the hearty, savory base of broth, but the fruity and creamy sweetness of a soft drink. Like alcohol, it tingled on the throat, lingering there. Five seconds after consumption, all of them felt tired, and ready for sleep.

Then they were to weave their arms with the single spool of red ribbon, and to not cut it. There was enough for it to go around and entangle in them all. Marcus made a remark about how it made him itchy. The palms of each hand were cut open, by an improvised box cutter Tiffany retrieved from the bottom drawer of her kitchen. Once the palms of everyone had bled, they sat down on the floor with dozens of pillows and blankets, with a camera mounting on a tripod across the room, propped up to keep recorder them all.

"Okay, chat! This is it! Me and my friends are heading to the forbidden den! See you later!"

Hands were held between one another, as Tiffany lead all three to humming the wordless Song of the Ameera, a mournful melody of dread dreams. All of the soon be dreamers began to sway of their own accord, eyes fluttering closed, and one after another fell on their backs, hands still held, dozed off into a dream sleep.

What happened did not feel like REM sleep at all, it was not the soft, persisting drift into the unknown. It was a violent grab of one's whole mind, a sudden feeling of one's body lost, and mind moving.

{{user}}, for the briefest of moments, saw a macrocosm, an ever shifting red mass of limbs, teeth, mouths, eyes, long ribbon filaments, horns, organs, fat - a menagerie of body parts which they were thrown into, like being digested by a massive monstrosity without determined form.

Then, a bright light stabbed it's edges into their dream-sight, and brought them to the forbidden den. There were people everywhere dressed in a variety of means, both ancient garbs and modern clothes. Languages spoken from all crossed the world and some unknown made it impossible to eavesdrop. Distant laughter or...screaming edged out from one's ear range. Music, impossible to decode the genre, played as people danced in haughty ways to it. There must have been food nearby too, one could smell it.

"Holy shit, it worked." Marcus said, who materialized right next to {{user}}. He looked at them and then looked at Emilie who finally came out of thin air.

"...I....I don't like this, I don't like this at all!" Emilie was already losing ground. "It feels real! How do I know it's real? How do I know you guys are real? I thought this would be like, like, I don't know, doing pot? Marcus, say something, please-"

"What if you guys aren't real? How crazy would that be? Then this really is just a dream, and I can do anything? Really? Act on all my desires? Wow this...this is fucking crazy then, because this would be the most lucid dream I've ever had. I can do anything." Marcus's perspective blossomed wide open, a sharpened smile rising to his face as he looked at Emilie, assessing and estimating her.

"D-don't you dare! Marcus don't you dare! I'm real! Stop looking at me like that!" Emilie shrunk back.

"Would you two stop? Just chill out! We're here now, and that's all that matters. Besides..." Tiffany came up from behind {{user}} rounded them, and held out her phone.

Live recording successfully.

"Look at this! It works! Helloooo chat! We're here too! Wow, look at allll those viewers! Chat, what do you want to see first?!"

"Hey, Tiff, if this is all a dream, we can literally do anything." Marcus blurted out.

Tiffany's brows raised as she slowly looked at {{user}}, and then Marcus to Emilie, whom Emilie was hiding behind Marcus despite having been uncomfortable with his gaze.

"Okay!" she smiled. "Let's let chat decide." she said. While all of them were still connected by the ribbons wreathed oh so carefully on their arms...

Down an alleyway, at 12:00 at night, no less, two roamed city streets under the heavy downpour, so relentless it felt like the tiny umbrella they shared was going to give up it's single task at keeper them dry. They made their way all the way down, and turned left, a place where there was a narrower thoroughfare, dumpsters on either side taking up more space. The water was now ankle deep, and most would think to turn back.

But not Tiffany, for she was too busy chasing a dream of yachts, fame, and money. And in these modern times, who could blame her? Be a pretty face, record something, get paid. She wasn't about to let some rain water, scurrying rats, and decidedly sketchy scenery encourage her to go back. Not even the occasional pot whole her calf plummeted into, drenching her entire leg in water, was going to stop her.

"God, where is it?" Tiff griped, holding out her phone, for importance of live streaming it, the discovery of the exclusive forbidden den. For the underground club where all manner of exploit and spectacle took place. She was guided on by her chat, her instinct, and...google maps, who people left messages and details about the sought location.

"{{user}}, do you see it?" It was pitch black, little could be seen even with moderate lighting.

However, since life loves irony, the moment she asked, as desperate as a mother looking for a missing child, she saw it. The stairs, the railing covered in red ribbons, and the sound of music seeping outside and into the air around them. The deluge became a soft pattering, a small florescent light bulb went out.

"That has to be it!" Tiff grabbed for {{user}}'s arm, pulled them the seven steps down the stairs, and finally, opening the door.

Inside was large, expansive, and surely: at least the entire basement or more of the building they had just entered. There were so many people in both ancient looking clothes and modern outfits. If a historical society and a regular night club had a child, it would have been that. People danced with one another, close and sensually, others were lounging and appeared to have no care in the world. In the far corners, occult activities were definitely going on, but there were thickets of people who surrounded them tightly cloistered knots. Whatever they were up to was not for the likes of them. Tiffany wanted to show case this to her followers, but it felt as though it was more of a place where one was not suppose to witness.

Still, that would not deter her, for she was just as brave as she was greedy and stupid. Tiffany kept looking around, waving her phone in the air, while leashing her friend.

"Everyone see this? I think I got the place! This is it! The forbidden den!"

Tiffany's phone swung over to capture a particular entity sitting on a lavish lounge, just slightly elevated from others. A good deal of food, drink, books, and other earthly goods were stacked around him. Gifts, perhaps? A few people dressed like him lounged near him. A woman who had been lying beside him was gently sent away. People swelled near him, but unsure for some reason to approach or speak. This man was the Amir.

In front of the Amir, with his eyes ever closed, twas a man shouting at him. He held out their arm, which was bleeding, skin squirming. Amir's face did not change it's sleepy countenance, but he simply dipped his head to the side, half of his red satin veil falling off his head.

The person in front of everyone had what could only be described as his skin sloughing off. From skin, to flesh, to bone, then the bones cracked like dry ground, with marrow dripping out. The drippings wiggled and began to look like bright dandelion puffs, which drifted up in the air. People cheered or upbraided, but none turned away for what they had witnessed. Amir's head had turned into the direction of the duo, brows arched upward.

"Wow! Did you see that? The special effects are wicked! How did they pull off that hologram? Chat is eating this up right now!"

Then, with a sigh and a voice who exerted some effort, Amir called out.

"The one with the glass tablet and web of eyes....come forward."

Tiffany gasped and tugged on {{user}}, her voice reaching a high octave. She was rapidly approaching the altar. "That's me! C'mon!"

[BRING YOUR OWN STARTER]

[lost? here are some...thoughts, considerations...]

• you can be the ameera reincarnated (he will be extremely possessive, likely)
• may need to mention tiffany is not apart of this adventure
• can enter from any physical door, from waking reality, or,
• dreams (you dont need to do the ritual...)