Dreams have shown me who I am Who: George and Timore What: Nightmares and memories Where: Dreamscape and bedrooms When: Late Warnings: Nightmares and possibly boning
The walls of his family home seemed to tower up around him, painfully familiar but twisted, spearing up into the sky like the walls of a prison but the rooms themselves small and narrow, confining with hallways that twisted like a maze and only seemed to get narrower if one tried to run.
George knew that, had run before often enough to know it wasn't a good idea, though as always it was the most appealing one. He didn't want to face this, to be in this room with the figure that was always here. He knew instinctively it was his father, taller than him though George had matched his height years ago and radiating disappointment, but his face was always blank. He couldn't remember what it looked like no matter how much he tried, just the things they said. The argument.
His body trembled with the urge to run and the figure, as though sensing it, became larger, towering over him and George could hear the words it spoke in something that wasn't quite a voice so much as sensations. Disappointment, anger, regret. They turned his stomach and he was starting towards the door again as anger peaked behind him and he knew this moment, it always played out this way. Anger and the door and then nothing.
So, still shaking, he stopped and turned back. It would be so much easier to run and he really wanted to, just to forget it all and leave again, return to the place where the past didn't matter and it was only the pleasure of the now as he had so many times before. But it wouldn't change what happened, wouldn't make it not have happened and now he could remember Georgie... he had to try, didn't he?