Sam Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ginormotron) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
applesaucedream2013-07-09 09:42 pm
ginormotron) wrote in applesaucedream2013-07-09 09:42 pm
[open to all]
Back when he was at Stanford, Sam tried to teach himself how to lucid dream. He'd left the nightmare of hunting behind him, and he'd wanted, if it crept into his sleeping mind, to be able to say, 'No, stop, this is a dream; this is in my own head, and I can control what happens in it.' He hadn't wanted, if he was sharing a bed with Jess, to freak her out by muttering in his sleep, or waking up with a shout, or sweating all over her.
He hadn't succeeded.
Now, passed out in the shitty motel he'd booked himself a room in, Sam dreams.
He's chasing a dog through a forest that he thinks might actually be Purgatory. He's not sure why he thinks this, because he hasn't come across any monsters, but somehow it feels like it might be, something heavy and oppressive and grey weighing on him, like if he looked up he'd find no sun at all in the sky, but only an endless roof. He thinks, too, that the dog is Riot, that maybe somehow he'd escaped from Kermit and that's why it's so important that Sam find him, that he return him to Amelia. But if he's in Purgatory-- dogs don't have souls, do they? And even if they did, they wouldn't end up in Purgatory, so what--? Maybe not Riot, then. Ahead of him, the quick patter of paws and the whuffle of doggy panting change to a heavier pounding, a rolling snarl of breath, and Sam realises with a cold flush that it isn't Riot at all.
It's a hellhound. There's no heavy weight of the demon knife in his pocket, but Sam keeps running anyway; he has to catch it, he does; he doesn't know why, but in the dream, that's of little importance in the face of the knowledge that he has to, he has to.
He hadn't succeeded.
Now, passed out in the shitty motel he'd booked himself a room in, Sam dreams.
He's chasing a dog through a forest that he thinks might actually be Purgatory. He's not sure why he thinks this, because he hasn't come across any monsters, but somehow it feels like it might be, something heavy and oppressive and grey weighing on him, like if he looked up he'd find no sun at all in the sky, but only an endless roof. He thinks, too, that the dog is Riot, that maybe somehow he'd escaped from Kermit and that's why it's so important that Sam find him, that he return him to Amelia. But if he's in Purgatory-- dogs don't have souls, do they? And even if they did, they wouldn't end up in Purgatory, so what--? Maybe not Riot, then. Ahead of him, the quick patter of paws and the whuffle of doggy panting change to a heavier pounding, a rolling snarl of breath, and Sam realises with a cold flush that it isn't Riot at all.
It's a hellhound. There's no heavy weight of the demon knife in his pocket, but Sam keeps running anyway; he has to catch it, he does; he doesn't know why, but in the dream, that's of little importance in the face of the knowledge that he has to, he has to.