adrian march (caeteradesunt) wrote in repose, @ 2017-02-16 09:01:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | *log, adrian march, tristan sable |
log: dreaming - adrian/tristan
Who: Adrian and Tristan
What: Dreaming
When: Recently
Warnings/Rating: Disturbing themes/content likely.
This dream reached out for no one. It shrank around its occupant, close as a tailored garment.
Beyond the wall of dreaming was a cool place lit in shades of gray, barely illuminated. In the real world, Adrian was curled on his bed, shrouded in a heavy blanket against the chill rolling off the old windows of the B&B. The cold rolled here, too, but he didn't mind it so much, not in this quiet.
Inside the dream, he was down in a place where no one could touch him. He was sitting in the back of an enclosed space, barely wider than himself. Its sliding door was closed and locked, and even in the gray dimness, it was identifiable as a closet.
As was typical in dreams, some details stood out in a peculiar way - the old brass latch on the inside of the sliding door, for example, locked from the inside. There was a worn wooden rod overhead, completely bare, with not even a loose hanger to show that this space had ever been used for its original purpose. The color of paint on the plaster wall, a dusty robin's egg blue, was made slate-colored by the low light.
The closet was quiet, but its occupant sat rigidly in the corner.
From outside, someone was knocking. They knocked, politely, a few times in succession. When the door did not open, and no one answered them, they knocked again, just as politely. And it went on and on, knocking, pausing, knocking again. The interloper's patience and courtesy were endless, but their determination bottomless. Three knocks. A pause. Three more knocks.
Adrian pressed further into the corner, but his breathing was even, and he didn't seem distressed. Nothing bad was going to happen, so long as he stayed right here.