I've seen the Thing In The Well.
It's... "hideous" isn't quite the right word. Strange, certainly. It belongs to one of the races that came to Earth in the distant past and reigned for a time, then fell into decay and passed away. As far as we know, it's the last of its kind. Unlike, say, Oracle, the Thing In The Well is at least recognizable as a living creature, even if its shape and substance are unfamiliar.
I can't tell you where I was, of course, or who was with me. I can tell you that the Well will never be spotted, even by satellite photography, and that the Thing In The Well speaks a passable variant of modern English... despite having throats that aren't really suited for it. I don't know whether it was pleased to have visitors, but it heaved itself up to look over the edge of the well at us and spoke a greeting.
So I explained my dream, and even made a few sketches to explain the... hexagonal... nature of the place where I'd found myself. I told it about the mists that seemed to be life in that place, and the overwhelming black cloud that had pursued me, and the stain that had appeared on my ankle.
The Thing In The Well took my words and my sketches and spent a few minutes... digesting them. I wish I was being less literal than I am.
I looked at my companion, but she just motioned for me to wait. So we stood, and we waited, and the Thing In The Well thought, or remembered, or something. Maybe it was just scratching an itch down where we couldn't see it; I'll never know. Its expression might be easier to read if it had anything resembling eyes. Then again, on that head, maybe not.
Finally, though, it spoke. What it said was, simply: "The place might be-" and it made a sound that I don't think I can reproduce. "I know little about it. How you found your way there; if you were called; these things I do not know." Then it named a ritual that might help, though it couldn't - or wouldn't - say how.
I know more than I did, at least - and I have something else to try, and a new direction for research. This is going to go up late, since I still have to fly back to Texas today. My companion dropped me off at the airport a little early (I'm sure she has a lot of work to do, too, now) so I was able to type this up and have a glass of scotch while I was waiting for my plane. It'll be good to get back home, even with all this still unsettled. I've been missing Claire - I hadn't really realized just how used I've gotten to having her around. Here's hoping for a quick, safe flight...
Late addendum: I'm back! Claire picked me up at the airport, and we stopped for dinner on the way home. Maybe I'll write up my report for the archives tomorrow...