two ○ voice / text

[mylegacy]

Who: Caesar Zeppeli & u
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: None this time!
When: Late night, 7/28

( joseph : voice : 1 am )

[The dreams are always the same. A great wind comes and cuts his skin; he is alone, and it hurts, but he doesn't cry out, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth in the dry air. Blood bubbles out of his nose. He is very afraid.]

[He's pretty sure he doesn't make any noise during these dreams. No one's said anything, anyway. He could get away with keeping it to himself. But tonight something at the base of his skull urges him to tell secrets.]

[His voice, when it comes, is very quiet.]

Are you awake?

( public : text : 2 am )

I have questions about nightmares.

Do you have them? How often? What do you do to make them go away?


( ooc ; caesar is affected by augment glitches / compulsion! )

Comments

[mylegacy]

[That's exactly what it means. You don't fuck with women who remind you with Lisa Lisa if you want to live.]

[He smiles faintly, shrugging one shoulder like - yeah, well, this is my life.]

Only a small bear.

[tothefly]

I'd hate to see a big one, then.

[Ray snores. She deals with it, when she sleeps in the dorm anyway; catnaps, listening to them all breathe. It's almost familiar, now.]

[That smile is returned by the barest flicker of one, and she tilts her head slightly to one side.]

Tell me about your dreams.

[mylegacy]

[Mm. He did agree to that, didn't he. He can't really think of why he did that right now, but he also doesn't have the impulse control to stop himself.]

[The smile fades a little, and he glances sideways for a moment, then back to the camera.]

They're about dying.

[tothefly]

[It's late. It's dark. Everyone is asleep. It's always night in space, but it feels like that hour of the morning where time stops and secrets are safe.

She's always been good at finding out secrets, and at keeping them.]

You have much experience with the occasion?

[mylegacy]

Yes.

[Just yes. It's easier to say than he expected it to be.]

They're always very realistic. Memories more than dreams. Sometimes slower, sometimes too fast.

It's very cold, always. When I wake up, I'm cold.

[tothefly]

[It's not unheard of. She's known a few guys who died and didn't quite stay dead. In some cases, it's more figurative than literal, but still. Her only response at first is a lengthy pause, a considering look, grey-green eyes unblinking.]

So you remember dying. Repeatedly.

You have these dreams every night?

[mylegacy]

[He nods, tipping his head to one side, his lips moving silently as he counts.]

Every night. Sometimes three, four times. I wake up at the end, after every one, when the ceiling falls.

[tothefly]

Don't blame you for wanting to get rid of them.

[The ceiling falls. Was it something that actually happened before he got here? Did he die? She can't be sure, but it's not really the relevant part.]

Is it always the same? Aside from the speed.

[mylegacy]

Yes, [he says again, and then hesitates, because that's not quite right, is it. There are small differences, the shift of the light, the place where the wind cuts his skin first. And another thing.]

There's something I have to get. Something important from the one who's killing me. Usually I get it, but sometimes I don't.

[Those are the worst ones, where he can't quite stand before the ceiling falls, and the ring is out of his grasp before he can draw another struggling breath. After those, he usually doesn't even try to go back to sleep.]

[tothefly]

Is that the point of these dreams, do you think? The object you have to get? Repetitive dreams tend to have a goal. A focus. Your unconscious mind dealing with regrets.

[She's had her share of those. Unmoving bodies, too young to be so still. Familiar hands, covered in blood. Voices calling her name from decades ago.

Eventually, you learn to cope with the dreams. Move on.]

[mylegacy]

I don't know.

[But that's not right, either. He frowns slightly and pushes his hair back from his forehead, trying to fit it into words.]

There's an object and an objective. I sometimes get the object. I never reach the objective. Is it possible for such dreams to have - a dual focus?

[A double regret. He seems full of regret, lately, and one noticeable, stubborn piece that he refuses to regret for anything.]

[tothefly]

Absolutely. Dreams can have as many facets as our minds want them to. That's part of what makes them difficult to control. But control isn't always healthy. The subconscious mind relieves pressure from the conscious, a release valve. You close that valve, and, well...

[The motion of her head, that slight tilt and twist, is eloquent enough.]

[mylegacy]

[He remembers what Rogue said, her intensity about allowing oneself to feel, to know, to remember, to record, and nods.]

I was talking to someone else about that. How dangerous it can be. She said - [He tries to remember her exact words.] Bad things "lose some of their fangs when faced honestly".

[tothefly]

It's good advice. You should take it.

have you considered keeping a dream journal? Writing down these nightmares, as soon as you wake up from them? It could help you to track the little differences. Maybe find a reason for them. Nail them down.

[mylegacy]

[He was already planning to; the fact that Natasha seconds what Rogue said only cements his intention. They are, he can tell even from the very briefest acquaintance, very different people, but they both seem - solid. A lot more solid than he feels right now.]

[So he nods and glances sideways again, leaning over the edge of his cot and pulling the papers he'd scribbled on earlier up onto the mattress, then smooths them out to read again. He could just add to this. It would be easy. A dream journal and a waking journal together, full of the nebulous pieces of his sleeping landscape and the concrete facts that anchor him to consciousness. Maybe he'll find a way to fit them together somehow.]

You think there's a reason? Something concrete that will make sense in the waking world?

[tothefly]

[She's practical above all else, for all her ambiguity in intention and occasionally speech. For things like this, people like him, that don't require anything personal of her? She can be blunt. Clear, precise, focused. The little shrug she gives is visible even in the dim lighting of the room around her, eloquent.]

For recurring dreams like that, there's usually some reason behind it. Can't hurt to keep track, just in case. And writing your dreams down is the first step to remembering them more clearly, and from there it's only a short hop to being able to remember your dreams while you're dreaming them. That's all a lucid dream really is. Being able to recognize a dream for what it is.

[mylegacy]

Being able to recognize a dream for what it is and change it?

[There's a lilt of hopefulness in his tone. If he can't change reality, if he can't change what happened, at least he could change what goes on in his head. That isn't so much to ask, is it?]

[tothefly]

Sure. If you're good. And if you're lucky. And if you're ready. Sometimes you might want to be ready, but your conscious mind doesn't always get to make that decision.

[It's a simple statement of fact. Just how things are. Not crushing his hope, but careful not to encourage, either.]

But it seems like you might be off to a good start. [A slight pause, then:] I'm Natasha. Ship's counselor over on the Windrose. If you ever want to come talk to someone about your dreams. Or if you can't sleep. I don't sleep much, myself.

[mylegacy]

[He wants to be ready now, of course; he is a perfectionist, but he is also impatient, and his impatience has a tendency to take over in the worst of ways, at the worst of times. It's an effort to school himself into even a moment's patience now, so as not to appear rude to her after she's been helpful.]

I understand it will take time. [He understands. Just . . . doesn't like it.]

I'm Caesar. You're . . . [He doesn't know how to put this.] Are you just a counselor here? Or were you, before?

[tothefly]

[Always hard to be patient, especially for things like this. It's easy to tell yourself that you know what needs to be done, what will change things, another thing entirely to cope with your subconscious. It doesn't tend to follow things like schedules and waking logic.]

[His question gets a slight tilt of her head, a long, thoughtful look.]

I'm not a licensed psychologist in my world, no. Does that matter, here?

[mylegacy]

[He purses his lips, considering.]

No . . . no, it doesn't. I don't know why I asked. It's not like I'd ever met one when I was alive, anyway.

Just curious, maybe.

[tothefly]

Curiosity is fine. Guess it's natural to wonder.

What did you do, back home?

[mylegacy]

[He's come to realize in his short time here that this question is both very common and extremely difficult to answer. There's a moment of telling hesitation, as he tries to come up with a palatable not-quite-lie.]

Fight, mostly.

[It's incomplete, but also, all things considered, fairly comprehensive.]