I was half asleep typing away soap data at my desk (what I was really doing IRL at the time, by the way). Useless soap data at that since it was gibberish due to my half-asleep state.
I was inspecting an apartment complex. Going door-to-door assessing the state of each living space to determine just how many vacancies we can advertise. At some point I hit a series of apartments that were dwelled by inhabitants during a sort of alien invasion that did not result particularly favorable for us.
Humanity as a whole was just fine, but there seemed to be a few groups of people severely effected by the invasion long after. These apartments were in shambles. They looked as if they were owned by hoarders. None of the electricals worked in the slightest in any of them.
In one apartment, the wall between two neighbors was broken entirely. This particular apartment had been dwelled by ones that were grievously affected by the aliens. The inhabitants were still there, yet they were also not there. Seemed as if they were the clutter strewn about the living spaces itself. I looked at the two windows that the apartments shared, the glass broken and the shutters swaying with the wind. There was a purple light coming through them yet neither the shutters nor blinds were pigmented themselves in any way. There was a noise, like a dull high-pitched constant tone emanating from the ceilings of the two joined living spaces.
I moved on to observe what 'uncontaminated' furniture could be salvaged. In particular, one cabinet with some appliance was ruined. A dresser with what seems like perhaps a radio or other receiving device. Or maybe a music box. The life essence, not exactly a soul, of an alien affected inhabitant had wreaked complete havoc on it. Looking at it made me feel uneasy so I moved on to a pile of clutter in the corner behind the door from which I entered the space. There was nothing wrong with the pile and yet the ceiling tone came into much better focus suddenly.
I felt a presence behind me. I turned my attention to what seemed like a closet door, or perhaps a thin door meant to be a shared door with yet another adjacent apartment. The presence behind me grew more corporeal. I turned and saw nothing but the purple glow of the windows and the remaining clutter I had already observed. Then I woke up.