NOTE :: This is a work in progress, posted here for arcane purposes. Please read the last two posts to enjoy this fully. All mistakes are mine.
It was not easy for new comers to go into The Dreaming but there were ways. Oh, there are always ways to go about it. If someone designs a place where no one is meant to go, some will spend their whole lives just trying to get in. And maybe, just maybe, after a while, they'll get in too. The Octopi had spent the last 100 years trying to get into The Dreaming. Through occult and science. Through sacrifice and genius. Through madness and mathematics. They had finally found a way to get in. Find some people willing to commit suicide and send them on a whirlwind trip across the planet, with a boat load of drugs and then pray. Pray that they find the right time and place and rip in the time where the dreams leak into the real world and they just might be able to reach in and explore the place.
The freaky thing about the Octopi experiments with their attempts to get into The Dreaming was that everyone had the same dream. Of a snow filled field which went on as far as the eye could see. And then the wolves. Oh, what wolves they were. Creatures of ancient tales, fierce and wonderful. With jaws full of death for anything that didn't belong into The Dreaming. The first few batches of test subjects came back with their brains all fried out and the best thing to do with them was to put a bullet in their heads. The mission incharge had done the honors himself. He had taken his 9mm into the sleeping cells and shot each of the subjects when their vital signs remained calm, but their mouths filled the hull with screams of terror and joy. He didn't know what they were seeing in the dreaming and he had no desire to find out either. The next batch of recruits was well prepared. They were put through mental conditioning and quick response. Their lucid dreaming classes went on for as long as they had to. They were the lost children of human race that no one would miss.
The experiments were a mixture of science and magic of any kind that they were able to get their hands on. Once a shaman traveled with a batch of trainees and they were able to know about the wolves. They were flying somewhere over Antarctica when the dream hit all of them. The shaman felt the presence of wolves and he had seen them before. He saw that they were guarding a pyramid in which a book was kept. Somewhere under the surface of water. He was able to placate the wolves for now. But the experience left him so traumatized that he took up a desk job.
The Octopi continued to refine and redefine their methods. Then one day a man with a bag of books and a plane under his command contacted them. Things were never the same after that day.