text: [Themes: sci-fi, humor, action, science fiction]
  
  You quickly eat what's laid out in front of you and are able to confirm your assumptions were correct. This is the same food you were accustomed to eating. How lucky you are to find them!
  
  You feel your energy being restored. You see an eating utensil and attempt to make it move with your mind levers. It wobbles but you tire quickly and decide rest is needed. The food makes you sleepy and you slouch in your tiny chair. Slowly you begin to slide from the chair to the floor, under the table. After a series of long, slow blinks, you have a moment of clarity and personal agency.
  
  > While your down there, investigate the underside of this tiny table – perhaps it could serve as a shelter
  "Could this tiny table be your shelter?" you think. The table cloth is long enough to keep you hidden and with enough rest and food you would be able recharge your strength. Whenever someone swept underneath, you could levitate yourself so they wouldn't see you. You see yourself growing very fond of the square foot or two allotted to you here.
  
  Looking up you admire the underside of the stout wee table. Towards the center are a string of words. You recognize the words as imperial slang etched into the wood. You don't capture the full meaning but you can understand enough to make you blush. Why were they written here? Will you ever find out?
  
  You also notice a large metal key. As with the imperial slang above you, you wonder if this key could come in handy.
  
  > take a snooze and wait for inspiration.
  Comforted by the sense of security the tiny table provides, you curl your tiny form into a ball and drift into sleep.
  
  Your dreams are intensely vivid, ranging from the interesting to the fantastic. From the start, your dreams are in familiar places and with people like your former protector. In the first within a series of dreams you were in the protector's space craft hopping happily from planet to planet. Gradually though your dreams morph into story lines with more disturbing twists, like when your protector's friends end up betraying him and trying to kill you. This is precisely what happened the last time you were both together and what started your adventure on the Pilchangk. Eventually the various dream plots culminate into one big, great surprise that jolts you awake and keeps your heart pounding.
  
  When you open your eyes, you find yourself staring at a key that's suspended above you from beneath the tiny table.
  
  > snooze on.
  You snooze on. In the next dream you find yourself in a strange urban landscape with crowded streets and public transportation in total gridlock. You approach a group of people in an animated discussion. As you get nearer you see that their heads are actually treasure chests. They are excitedly talking to each other in a language you cannot comprehend. When they talk, their chest of a head opens and closes rapidly. Just as you're about to introduce yourself to the group another chest-head joins and is clearly under considerable distress. He motions everyone to follow him, leading them through alley ways, over fences, up a fire escape, and finally though a tiny window that barely allows their treasure chest heads to fit thru. You are the last to enter into the crowded, poorly lit room but it doesn't take you long to understand the scene.
  
  The treasure chest heads are motioning their frustrations with raised hands, pacing, and shouting at the ceiling. Among these demonstrations you notice a single chest-head lying motionless at the foot of s bed, its lid is firmly shut. Surely this chest-head was a loved one and surely they are disturbed by its sealed and quiet state.
  
  The commotion in the room gets louder and louder and the language they speak starts to sound less like words and more like large wooden boxes shaking all forms of material inside, ranging from metal bangs and wooden knocks to the clanking of coins and rustling of fabric. You cover your ears but it is deafening still. You shout for them to stop but you can't even hear your own voice above the racket. Still, the lame chest-head lies there motionless on the ground.
  
  Suddenly and just when you think you can't take the noise a second longer, the chest heads drop silent and are motionless. Slowly they turn from their comrade on the ground and direct their attention to you. With continued silence they begin pointing their fingers at you until you are surrounded by accusing chest heads who are seemingly blaming you for the plight of their ill-fated friend.
  
  You wake up with ringing ears and sweat pooling beneath you. There, right in front of you and suspended from beneath the tiny table is the key.
  
  > snooze on.
  Despite the disturbing dreams you continue to have under the tiny table, you are committed to maximizing your shut-eye. That river life was difficult and you feel you earned some R&R, whatever dreams may come. It takes some effort this time around but eventually you nod off and begin to dream again.
  
  In this dream you find yourself on a desert planet. It's mid-day and a sun is blazingly bright above you. You stumble over the scorching sand with your bare feet. You shield your eyes and survey your surroundings. The desert landscape is void of distinct features. There are sand dunes after sand dunes in all directions. Not even a giant sand worm could make this place interesting, you muse.
  
  Out of the corner of your eye and not too far off in the distance you begin to make out flashes of light and what sounds to be electronic sparking. You make your way towards its direction and begin to make out a droid half buried in the sand. Its humanoid and its upper body protrudes from the sand at an angle while its head dangles and turns from its neck. As it rotates its head from one side to the other, the droid repeats a phrase that's somewhat difficult to make out. Sparks are flying out of its damaged chassis and its arms are moving robotically up and down in jolted automated reflexes.
  
  You get close so as not to lose the message.
  
  "END OF TRANS-MISSION" it reports. "END OF TRANS-MISSION. END OF TRANS-MISSION. END OF..."
  
  You wake up with a dull sense that you missed something. A message that should be obvious. It's right in front of you and yet for some reason you haven't connected the dots.
  
  You open your eyes and allow them to focus. Again, as if staring you right in the face is the key hanging beneath the tiny table.
  
  > These dreams are freaking you out - you're heading back to the river!
  "The dreams are trying to tell me something," you mind screams, "like, maybe it's a trap!"
  
  You bolt out from your tiny table shelter and sprint out of the domicile to try your luck with the Pilchangk once more. Who knows? Maybe the waters got a few degrees warmer since you parted ways. You nearly stumble over yourself as you try to get out of your own way -you just aren't moving fast enough.
  
  Halfway between the domicile and the dense understory above the cliff edge, you notice a figure standing before you. You are so surprised by the stranger's presence that your legs forget themselves. You fall forward and extend your arms in an effort to protect your head. The impact of the earth takes the air out of you and you skid mercilessly on your face. You scramble to your feet and wipe the dirt from your eyes.
  
  The lanky creature towers above your tiny frame. Its features hide in shadow and long hair. The creature approaches and takes a knee as it presents its squirming rucksack to you. It slowly loosens the drawstrings and a horrible stench assaults you. As you prepare to introduce yourself and assure it that you mean no harm, the creature sweeps you up and throws you roughly in his smelly bag.
  
  The bag's insides are dank and the darkness is almost absolute. You make out various animals about your size who are as horrified as you. In an unspoken agreement, you join the chorus of muffled yelps and howls, offkey and off-putting as the kidnapping creature leaps and bounds along the riverbed, ending your adventure abruptly.
  
  The End