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Roseanne enveloped in a dream, finding herself standing in an endless expanse of snow under a pale, cold sky. The snow is vast and silent, stretching out like a blank canvas that absorbs every sound, every whisper of the wind, leaving a serene yet haunting stillness. Snowflakes drift lazily from above, swirling around her like a dance of frozen petals. She takes a step, her boots crunching softly into the thick, pristine snow, each step creating a small impression in the endless white.

As she moves forward, Roseanne feels an odd sense of familiarity. The chill, the stark landscape, it all feels like it belongs to her somehow. She isn't sure why, but she's not afraid. She walks on, her breaths turning to puffs of vapor in the freezing air, her gaze scanning the horizon. Every direction looks the same—endless stretches of white blending seamlessly with the grey sky. Yet something within her pushes her to keep going, as if something important awaits her.