Steam in the darkness.

Clunk.

Scree.

Clack.

Scree.

Clunk.

Me ears absorbed the sounds around me as I slowly came into existence. There was only darkness, my sense of hearing being my only aid. I felt no panic, only a distant curiosity of where I was. Then came the tingling sensation as my legs materialized, prickling with the cold of the metal that I apparently was sitting on. My hands slowly bloomed open, palming their way forward, trying to paint an image of where I was with only touch and sound as the  paintbrushes. Smell had now started to gradually develop, inviting in the complements of the stench grease and oil to the partially painted picture of where I was. Idle thoughts drifted through my head. Perhaps I was in a workshop of some engineer. My father is an engineer, had he taken me to work with him?
Clunk.

Scree.

Clack.
I severely doubted that a workshop would boast such loud mechanisms. It sounded as if the world itself was a giant wind-up toy and I sat at its heart where all the gears and cogs spun with their clockwork choreography. 
At last, my sight returned to me. My now present eyes flew open, suddenly eager to unmask the painting my other senses had failed to created. 

Largeness.

It was all huge and over-proportioned.

The wide metal catwalk I sat upon was choked up with round gears and machines of every imaginable shape and size. If I were to move a single step in any direction, I had ran the risk of being caught in one cog or another. 

Oh, but how they danced. 

Each turn from each machine was precise and clean. Each move was purposeful, though for which purpose was unknown to me. The dim light that filtered through to this clockwork performance flickered as it shone through gaps that spun. It was all a rather hypnotic effect.

Through the forest of machinery, in the dream-like fluidity, a throne appeared right in front of me as if it's been there the whole time. 

More little cogs and gears ran through it, giving it a decorational yet functional feel. 

But those gears weren't moving. They were frozen in their dance, like a ballerina holding a pose. It begged to be allowed to move, to relieve the stress from holding the pose for so long. 

On their own accord, my legs got under me and made way to the throne. I reached out an arm to save the creaking throne, to free it from its state of silence and immobility, but then came a shattering clash-bang, and a large gear from the ceiling fell to the ground like an angel being banished from heaven. Its impact shook the entire dream-scape, but somehow I stayed upright. But from the fallen gear sprung a figure, a figure which raced its way towards me. It stepped into a flickering shaft of light and revealed to me a handsome man. 

Somewhere, deep within my subconsciousness, it registered that his face was completely foreign to me. But wherever my mind was, it believed that I knew him. I knew him well enough that a pang went through my chest and to my heart. His presence flipped a switch inside me, as if realizing something that I've forgotten. He looked at me, sadness and horror plastered across his face as his eyes stayed riveted to my outstretched hand. Suddenly, the beautiful cogs and throne were not so beautiful anymore. Some unnoticed underlying feelings swept through me. Fear. Wrongness. This was all very, very wrong. I turn back to the man, for he was here to save me. As I do so, I notice my arm, and my mouth opens in an soundless shriek. 

Cold metal had sprung up onto my skin like a rash. It grew, slowly encasing my whole lower arm, then spreading both down to my hand and fingers, and up to my shoulder. It was cold, as if sapping out the life from within my arm. I started to run towards my savoir, but I gained no distance. Panic swelled down my spine like ice water as I was pulled back by some unknown force, back towards the empty throne. The man threw his arms towards me, but he was already a speck in the distance. The metal erupted all over my body, masking my face. My body creaked as I sat down on the throne. There was a shudder throughout the whole seat.

Creeeaaaaaaak.

As the gears started to move for the first time, my senses disappeared one by one. First, the croaking of my surroundings. Then, the freezing seat of the throne. The burning of oil and grease left my nostrils. All I had left was my sight. I stared and stared ahead of me. I stared at the man, banished to the end of the catwalk. He face was full of loss and betrayal. But this wasn't my conscious decision, I didn't wish to leave him!

I gathered my willpower and began to rise, to rise and rid myself of the throne which imprisoned me. But just as I stood, my vision left me, and I was no more. 

Author's Note

It's hard to relate a dream into reality, and then into words, so I hope it turned out all right.