The World Is Pale

I have been having a dream. In the deserted alley, in the heavy rain, golden spears seemed to fall from the sky, piercing everything. Flames and steam rose, chants came from all around like waves, and a man with golden pupils came slowly holding a black umbrella. A roar that could not be distinguished whether it was human or animal pierced the sky. I woke up and looked in the mirror. Who are you? And who am I?