Down a rabbit hole

Just woke up from a complicated interweaving of dreams, I'll try and record what I remember.

It began when I was physically drawn through a portal in the ground, a trapdoor that locked shut behind me, but was also somehow me entering a book, or rather a fiction. This was the first major part of my dreams, but it feels so long ago that it's also the part I forget the most of.

Whatever happened inside this fiction, I knew I had to escape. There were several levels, barriers to pass through to get back to the real world, and as I approached these barriers, navigating their different mazes, I was aware that they weren't constructed solely to keep me trapped here, but to trap a malevolent fiction in this world. I could feel that fiction following after me, biding it's time to attempt its own escape. I had to be careful- I knew that a fiction in the real world would be capable of creating anything it wanted, would be unstoppable.

I rushed through the different gates, a secret garden atmosphere existed for at least one of them, but finally I came to a ladder, leading up to a trapdoor in the ceiling. I climbed up, frantic to get through and shut the door after me. I knew the presence after me was right behind, and that I wouldn't necessarily be able to see it come and pass through.

Through the door, above the entrance, once again in the "real world" I try to close the door, but it isn't just a door, there were some kind of blocks resting on the door frame, and as I turn to attempt to close it one or both fall back in to the ground below. I freeze up, because I know I don't have the time to go down, grab the blocks, climb back up and shut the door.

I fiddle with something at the base of the door that, to my mind, tightens the security of the various barriers below, buying me some time. But even then, I know it's coming, and what's worse, I now know there are others coming as well.

I do my best to replace the lid on this "Pandora's World", but the door only half shuts and I know I've failed. The fiction has escaped. I didn't see it happen, but I know all the same.

The second part of the dream I didn't have access to any dream abilities, things were "real" now. A famous figure died (my brain kept calling him Fred Durst, and saying he was from Limp Bizkit, while I also kept thinking when I was more awake-ish"that's not right, he was in Blink-182. Obviously, I have no idea what band the REAL Fred Durst is a part of.) and my friend was accused of murdering him. In crime scene pictures, as well as pictures of her held by the police, she was naked, deathly gaunt and pale, with thick blue veins all over her body.

I knew she was innocent, that this "Fred Durst" was the fiction. He used his powers to assume a human identity, to become rich, to have anything he wanted. But because he could simply have anything he wanted by thinking it, I knew that the case was he had grown bored of life, and willed his own death.

I had to prove this to save my friend, but I didn't know how to do it.

And I guess that's all I remember of my dream.