My dreams these past few days have brought me nothing more than anxiety.
A shrine maiden who looked just like you was surrounded by young girls, going to a place so deep and far away that it was like you could see the edge of this world.
You, or that Shrine Maiden, she no longer smiles sadly like she did before. She just stands still in the void, just like she is giving up her life. Her body is covered in countless tattoos, so many that her beautiful skin cannot be seen, and I am so heartbroken that I feel as though I'm suffocating. All the while, the priestess rides in a swaying cage, to a place out of reach.
Though I shouldn't know what suffering she will have to bear from then onward, I sense that I will never be able to see her again and awaken in despair, relieved to find that it was a dream.
I wonder if it is correct to refer such awful dreams as "dreams". While on the one hand I wanted to tell Dr. Asou about it, on the other I felt that I was something I could not undo, and so I was hesitant to tell him for fear of what he might think.
Though these letters I write are addressed to you, lately they've taken on this kind of style.
Today, too, I am going to the Doctor's laboratory to speak with him. If possible, I hope to have something good to report to you.