The shadow on the wall.
Silent
When I was six I dreamed a rabid pack of wolves was chasing me through the forest. I had a little stuffed bunny (that I still have to this day) in my arms and was running through the trees. I tripped, dropping the bunny in a bush on the edge of the path shortly before careening over the edge of a cliff. I was holding on with my fingers, and watched as the wolves stalked up to the side of the cliff.
I fell, waking up before I hit the ground. The next day, when I fell asleep, I walked back up the slopes of the cliff, picked up my bunny and there were no wolves in sight. I had been more scared for the bunny than anything else, but was terrified of the wolves.
Despite that dream, I still love wolves.