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applesaucedream2014-11-28 03:50 pm
applesaucemod) wrote in applesaucedream2014-11-28 03:50 pm
Can't Stand the Distance, Can't Dream Alone [open to all]
The sleeping rifties might have a difficult time realizing they're dreaming this evening, in part because tonight's dreams are atypically vivid, even compared to the rift's usual efforts. Perhaps that is because it's drawing so heavily from the memories of the dreamers, themselves, and using that information to recreate their home worlds in stunning detail. And that is the real reason the dreamers might not be eager to accept the unreality of the situation: the situation is one that many of them have been hoping for for months or even years. In their dreams tonight, the rifties are going home.
Perhaps they arrive in the same moment that they left. Perhaps months have passed at home, or they might even find themselves arriving before their departure point. But those are small details when compared to the overwhelming realization that they're back where they belong.
They're not alone. Many dreamers will find the rift has given them a companion for the return trip. Well, an uncomplicated return home is probably more than anyone could have hoped for, anyway. And for the unwitting visitor, perhaps another universal displacement will be easier to bear with the addition of a local guide.
[ooc: usual dream party rules apply; all are welcome, and dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Also at the players' discretion: when their character arrives in their 'home universe,' and how many (if any) locals they'd want to run into.]
Perhaps they arrive in the same moment that they left. Perhaps months have passed at home, or they might even find themselves arriving before their departure point. But those are small details when compared to the overwhelming realization that they're back where they belong.
They're not alone. Many dreamers will find the rift has given them a companion for the return trip. Well, an uncomplicated return home is probably more than anyone could have hoped for, anyway. And for the unwitting visitor, perhaps another universal displacement will be easier to bear with the addition of a local guide.
[ooc: usual dream party rules apply; all are welcome, and dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Also at the players' discretion: when their character arrives in their 'home universe,' and how many (if any) locals they'd want to run into.]
this is so big, I'm so sorry
Johnny wakes up because of the radio, KROQ's Love Line, this time drenched in purple rain, and there's Hailey, he remembers Hailey, disturbed face, incredible body, came over that one time it was a really nice night and then she was gone in the morning for reasons he could never understand? - she's on the radio now, describing to Doctor Drew and Adam Carolla how he--"this guy in a real stale studio with books and writing everywhere, everywhere! and weird drawings all over his walls too, all in black. I couldn't understand any of it."--had dozed off only to start screaming and yelling terrible things in his sleep, about blood and mutilations and other crazy %&#@, which had scared her and had it been wrong of her to leave even though when he'd been awake he'd seemed alright?
An ugly shiver rips up his back then. All this time he's believed the cavorting and drinking and sex had done away with that terrible onslaught of fear. Clearly he was wrong. He's only pushed it off into another place. His stomach turns. Screaming things is bad enough, but the thought that he's also frightened someone he feels only tenderness for makes it far worse.
Does he scream every night? What does he say? And why in the hell can't he remember any of it in the morning?
This has happened before. No. Oh no. It's happening again.
Maybe he does remember. He remembers a dream, or was it a dream? Can't have been; it was too, too real, and he's too different, yes, there it is, the new tattoo on his arm, non sum qualis eram, proof of the point. Something isn't right. He's back. He's home. He's home.
No.
But the thing with Hailey happened ages ago, so long ago, did the rift - did it send him back too far? Is this it? He's just here now, no more Gabriel, no more TARDIS, no more anyone? Just like that?
This is fucking unbearable.
He kicks off the sheets and tumbles out of bed, landing hard on the floor. His instinct is to look for Yarrow but he's gone too. They're all gone. He'd only just been approaching the fourth month of his new life but it was all so much, so good. Better than life has ever been. Even with Zagreus. Even with that.
He picks himself up, breathing too hard, too fast. He checks to make sure his door is locked. Returns a second later to put on the chain. He needs more locks. (He remembers needing more locks.) His heart starts hammering. He retreats to the corner of his room but that doesn't help. Fuck, fuck, fuck--isn't helping either. Better go to the bathroom, try some water on the face, try anything. Only he can't budge. Something is approaching. He can hear it outside. He can feel the vibrations. It is about to splinter its way through the Hall door, his door, Walker in Darkness, from whose face earth and heaven long ago fled.
Then the walls crack.
All his windows shatter.
A terrible roar.
More like a howl more like a shriek.
His eardrums strain and split.
The chain snaps.
He's trying desperately to crawl away, but it's too late. Nothing can be done now.
That awful stench returns and with it comes a scene, filling his place, painting it all anew, but with what? And what kind of brushes are being used? What sort of paint? And why that smell?
Oh no.
How does he know this?
He cannot know this.
The floor beneath him falls into a void.
Except before he falls what's happening now only reverts to what was supposed to have happened which in the end never happened at all. The walls remain, the glass holds and the only thing that vanishes is his own horror, subsiding in that chaotic wake always left by even the most rational things.
Here now is the darker side of whim.
He tries to relax.
He tries to forget.
...He can't forget. He doesn't want this anymore. He left this behind. This already happened and he already wrote it down. What more can he do. What more can he give.
"Gabriel," he whispers, helpless, desperate, pleading, lowering himself gently down to his knees. "Gabriel, can you hear me?"
Long, dusty silence. He stares at his hands on the floor and wills it to open, swallow him up, take him away. He can't. That's gone too now. Good.
Then: footsteps in the hall. Ordinarily Johnny would never go out there. Especially not because of footsteps. But it might be Gabe. It might be.
He gets up, unchains and unbolts his door, opens it. Steps into the hall.
There's someone there, but he can't know if they're real.
[Gabe may indeed answer this prayer but don't let that stop you from throwing anyone else at poor messed up little Johnny. He can meet anyone in the hall and it will probably be terrible.]