Castiel Novak (funnyinenochian) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-06-26 16:00:00 |
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Current mood: | anxious |
Entry tags: | !complete, castiel |
Who: Castiel Novak
When: June 25th
Where: Hospital Room
What: Disturbing dreams and anxiety issues do not mix well.
Notes: This is long overdue, as I was unsure what to do once my plans for this particular memory were scrapped due to the sudden disappearance of my plot partner. So uh. Yeah. Here's some...stuff.
The number of 'bad days' Castiel was having had steadily increased over the past two weeks, ever since he'd had that nightmare. The medications he took made him lethargic and tired, but the anxiety kept him awake; he didn't want to have that dream again. Three times had been enough, even though the second and third had just been shadowy replays of the first; attempts at not sleeping at all were marginally successful.
Still, even when he was awake he could remember it, replayed it in his mind even though he didn't want to, definitely not. He was afraid of what it could mean, but afraid of what would happen if he mentioned it to anyone; he didn't want more pills that didn't do anything but make him feel miserable. So he kept quiet, and hid under the covers, and tried not to think about it even though that assured it was all he'd think about.
There had been people in the dream that seemed so familiar, but he couldn't, for the life of him, recall where he might have seen or met them before. A tall, angry man, monologuing like an action movie villain, trying to wear Castiel down, to sway him to his own point of view, and lots of fighting, punching and pushing and shoving, broken walls and anything-goes-as-a-weapon; sometimes, when he thought about it, he wished he could be as tough and fearless as he was in his dream, and maybe things would be better. Or much worse, since he'd been about to lose the battle until someone had come to save him. She had long red hair and a determined expression, except when she looked at him, and then it had been all care and concern and protectiveness, and he wished she was real, too.
One person, though, he definitely knew, and in a dream full of made-up-yet-horribly-familiar-faces, he couldn't understand why Dean was there. Why was he there, and why had he asked Dean to do such horrible things? He'd asked and Dean did them, and it wasn't what either one of them had wanted, and watching him go into that room had *hurt so much*. It was, he thought, probably the worst part of the dream, as well as the most confusing; he didn't even know Dean that well, and no matter how much he thought about it, or tried not to, he couldn't make sense of it, and only succeeded in upsetting himself further.
Castiel shifted under the covers restlessly until he heard someone approach his door; he went still then, and did his best to pretend he was asleep without actually giving in. An orderly called his name quietly, and he ignored it, listening to the sounds of someone else moving in the room, setting down his lunch, and then closing the door carefully. He wasn't hungry, and feigning sleep while the food got cold was far easier than having to fail at coming up with an excuse as to why he didn't want to eat.