et_somnia (et_somnia) wrote in repose, @ 2017-02-13 14:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, burden bell, tristan sable |
[dreams: Tristan & Misha]
Who: Tristan and Misha
What: Dream meeting
Where: Dreaming
When: Now-ish
Warnings/Rating: Will update if needed. Probably dream weirdness.
The shop had closed hours ago, and he'd apparated home. Likely a foolish thing to do, consider how long it had been since he'd had any real sleep, but sometimes he thought that splinching himself wouldn't be so bad if it somehow resulted in a night of real rest. The sort that continued to elude him, even when he finally put his head to pillow. (Or passed out into the palette of oils or onto discordant ivory keys.) Days had passed with only slips of sleep, the sort that were never long enough or deep enough to spiral down into dreams. He couldn't carry on much longer...
When he began to see shadows and trails in his peripheral vision, he knew that he needed to submit. He'd lost the fight again. But at least he made it to the bed - boxers and a t-shirt and nothing else, hair in chaos and sunset smudges in the hollows beneath his eyes. Feather bed laid over a perfect mattress, sheets with a thread count that was ridiculous.
He was asleep nearly as soon as he gave up the stubborn vertical of his spine...
...
And the cottony grey he'd come to know as the space between dreams slipped up around him. Nothing bright, nothing loud, muffled and soft just as always. And just as always, he begged (to whoever might be listening) that he could stay in the in-between. That he would be allowed to let it cradle him and rock him into something almost like rest.
But he could feel the dreams of others closing in. They always seemed to know he was there, always drew close with a greedy curiosity. They reached out for the waking world, sticky spots on grasping threads that took those waking things to build a dream for their owners. He could only hide from them for so long before one pulled him in.
It was usually a gradual thing, almost suffocating, but this night was to be different. The dream that found him was bright, greedier than the others, and stronger than them. It touched him first, before pulling him inside, touched and learned. It was more curious than he'd felt before, and though he should be alarmed by the difference, there was also a calm to it that chased away any fear he might have. Instead of simply taking, there was a feeling of inquiry - not about who he was, but about if he wanted to be there. None had ever asked before, and even if it had felt like a nightmare instead of calm, he probably would have agreed just because of the novelty of being asked. Since it wasn't a nightmare, his agreement came fully and quickly, and then he was inside.