For Science! Jan 12, 2022 2:20:19 GMT -6
Post by Morgan on Jan 12, 2022 2:20:19 GMT -6
This time whenever the human finds theirself in the world of dreams, they do not panic. It occurs to them immediately upon 'waking' that they are dreaming, even without testing their bedside light-caster. They test it anyway, just to be thorough. The more information that they have about the subject matter, the better- the better for designing a working hypothesis, the better for hopefully remembering more whenever they woke. They know to go south, it is always south perhaps- but why was it always south? This, along with other details of the dream, they file away. "I have to remember t-this, when I wake up." They try to force on theirself, even as they walk straight out of the door.
It is always such an uncomfortable feeling, walking on the grass in their socks. If only they ever had their boots. Immediately upon lamenting the boots nonverbally, they are presented with a pair directly in front of them, which they then pull on. They request a pair of black gloves as well, just to test- and are presented with those upon the grass as well a few feet away. They continue on south. The city is always so completely devoid of life. The world feels so clinical, and that brings them much more comfort than it would to others. A world devoid of chaos in appearances, save for their own of course.
If only the whole world could be so neat and collected. Everything would make sense and they could feel... Safe.
This way. "Are You a Dream?" Morgan always finds it disconcerting. They asked this each time, didn't they? Several times. A shudder runs down their spine, but they still don't wake up.
Morgan finds the individual very comforting, really. This draconic, they felt like they knew them well. It was nice to see them. Did they ever tire of Morgan being there? Repeatedly? What brought them here each time? Each time they woke... Something about that made the hair on their nape stand up.
Or perhaps it was the sensation of being watched. "The dreamer-" Morgan clears their throat. It felt like attempting to look out from behind their knees; like they were blind. Very little came to them, at first. Then, little prickles pick up behind their eyes. "I miss him." They murmured. They reach up, full of shame for breaking down and crying like this (even if it was a dream), and they wipe their tears and snot onto the oversized sleeve of their late father's labcoat- the one they wore in his honor. "I don't know w-what to say, I just miss him so much."
It takes them quite the time to pick up all of the shattered pieces after that. It made no sense. They'd never been able to cry over this, not once in their life, but now it was coming unbidden. "S-sorry, the uh- the dreamer..." The dreamer must think them quite rude. However, they felt something... Calming about being watched. Observed, almost. That meant something, right? "The dreamer is... Watching me, uh- o-observing me. They always do, but h-he's different. Clinical, staying back, taking n-notes." That felt quite solid to them. "He's... Intelligent, I think- very clever. He's b-been wanting to meet me a long t-time. Apparently h-he's stayed back, t-taken notes on everyone that has come to join me first..." They didn't really know what that meant- not in that moment in the dream.
"He feels precise, on the surface. C-cold, Calculating, movements all decided on an-and carefully executed. He knows w-what to expect and doesn't like to be wrong." They felt that, at least. "B-but somewhere under that... He's like me. There's a chaos there, one he's t-trying to suppress. He wants to join me, he wants..." They look very perplexed, for a moment- as they considered this information. Their own clinical mind whirring through just as many different conclusions as the dreamer himself perhaps could- save for a tad slower. "P-perhaps... Perhaps he was always there. Perhaps he was never gone." The nonsequitur bubbles up and spills over. But hadn't he been gone? Where had he gone?
"S-something isn't right. T-this isn't like the others..." They feel the weight of the coin in their pocket suddenly, and they pull it out to look at it. "This... He's..."
They toss the coin in, and their chest hurts so, so badly.
"S-something is wrong." Very wrong, indeed.
(Theme: Science. A being both prim and proper that appears highly organized at first glance; primarily white and black with some neon green detailing. Behind their chaotic eyes shines an eerie Madness, which is belied little in the rest of their being. Toes: 5)