John dreamt he was driving.

He knew his dreams well. They were almost always with the same traits. It is the first time in years he has ever had a lucid dream, but it's strangely not one he is in control of. He was driving past the massive cedar trees of the Highland Mountains of Reach. He recognized the Longhorn Valley and the Big Horn River.

Even as he dreamed being inside of his armor, he recognized the soothing scent of the trees. It's been many years since he's been home.

The Spartan looks down as he holds the handles of his vehicle. It's a model of a Mongoose he didn't expect to ever get past the planning phase. A two-wheeled variant. A massive abomination of a motorcycle meant to carry the size and weight of a fully-armored SPARTAN-II, and move him through places with an agility and size not even the standard model would provide.

As he looked up, the scenario slowly revealed a small asian town behind the blurring trees as he sped past. The Spartan turned and took a small stone path, passing shrines and several houses as his vehicle growled with the movement.

His visor looked at the houses. Then turned to see at what laid beyond.

It was not a common dream. It was not a natural one. But in the meantime, he was about to dive deeper into it. Know what it was about. And what was sending those dreams.