In her hazy dream plane, everything was obscured by clouds of black and grayish smoke. A red light was emanating from somewhere, dying the billows of smoke the color of blood. She waved the smoke away, coughing as it filled her lungs.
The coughing suddenly grew worse. She hacked and choked. It was like the smoke had solidified into spiked branches and pierced into her throat, filling it with thick, burning blood. Her heart burned, sending waves of unbearable, searing heat throughout her blood, prickling across her body. She coughed out steam and rivers of blood, sucking in smoke and leaving more blood behind. Her waist and back and arms stung as though they had been cut with fresh wounds from a red-hot iron poker, or knife, or other stinging weapon.
When she looked down, she saw that her chest was glowing a faint red from within. It was the glow of her heartstone pressing through her ribs and muscles and skin that was lighting up the smoke around her, casting the world in blood.
