Wanda's chair settled back to the floor with a thump as she thought about her answer. Reaching under her desk she opened the tiny fridge she kept there and took out two bottles of water, offering one to the doctor should he want it, and opening the other to take a sip. She'd found that drinking water helped her focus, and with her power, focus was a very, very good thing.
"I'm afraid that most of the time, the dreams are sort of... of vague. Just this sense of being exhausted. Drained. Like there's this thing out there I have to do and no matter how hard I try... it's just there, just out of my reach... always just where I can't do it.... I don't usually remember my dreams. I never really have. So usually when I've had a bad night, I just wake up tired, like my sleep wasn't restful, if that makes any sense at all."
Usually, though. Usually was the key word there.
"Sometimes, they're a bit more vivid, though. Some I do remember. In those... in those it's like we're running away from something. Always running. Sometimes just me, sometimes my brother is there, and he carries me. The world is shaking and we're running...." She looked up from her water and met the doctor's eyes. "The worst ones, though... after we run and run and think we're going to escape... then there's this explosion... light, sound, the walls falling around us... and then..." she trailed off, not wanting to speak it aloud as if that would make it more real, "and then... Papa... just his helmet... dented..." She shuddered. After the first one she'd needed to reassure herself that it had only been a dream, the image of Magneto's helm dented as if he was no more had been so strong. Her father was a powerful man. She couldn't believe he'd fall, but that dream....