Oneiros

[almostinhuman]

The land sang beneath his steps, a tune unfamiliar and ethereal. The sky almost seemed like it wanted to embrace him - or force its way in. The trees, the rocks, the stars, they all seemed aware and awake and alive.

He stopped when he saw her, gnarled and fey. He remembered nothing else.

[almostinhuman]

Most of the time, Austin tried to stay uninvasive, merely observing or even actively ignoring the dreams, depending on how he was feeling that night. Sometimes, though, he'd reveal himself, becoming an active participant in these little worlds.

[almostinhuman]

Those same hospital rooms again. He must've gotten all too used to them by now. But at least he didn't have to suffer them alone.

[almostinhuman]

He was sure it'd sound weird and invasive to others, if he said any of it out loud. So by and large, he didn't. Most of the people he bumped into in his sleep didn't seem to notice or mind, so who cared what anyone else thought?

[almostinhuman]

Her dreams were mostly hard for him to follow, but not tonight. She seemed to know he'd be coming, and she'd done her best to tidy up the corners of her mind and invite him in. It was surprisingly sweet of her.

[almostinhuman]

Often Austin's memory of these dream visits were blurry. He struggled with remembering things seen with his Gift in general, and people apparently had a hard time remembering their own dreams, so he could only imagine those two things combined had a potent amnesiac effect.

[almostinhuman]

He saw the boy, who was there, sitting with the girl, who wasn't, in front of the world's last Blockbuster. He could tell it was the boy's dream because the girl didn't glare at him this time, or even look his way.

He asked for their names, but he'd forgotten them by morning.

[almostinhuman]

Often, what stuck with him were particularly memorable snippets. Moments of intent, meaning, coherence, adrift in a sea of chaos.

[almostinhuman]

His father was leaving. He was leaving, and no amount of pleading or yelling or bargaining could make him stay; it could only delay the inevitable. It didn't seem like the first time, either. The whole thing had an air of excruciating routine.

He wished he hadn't seen this.

[almostinhuman]

Sometimes, experiencing these dreams felt unsettling or annoying; it was hard for him to rest when he found himself within them.

[almostinhuman]

He was fighting that Brian kid, who was spewing a truly absurd amount of the goop he gave off. A single punch sent the boy flying over the horizon. Within seconds, he was back, no worse for wear.

[almostinhuman]

Sometimes it was an outright painful experience.

[almostinhuman]

Shuddering chaos. Tumultuous agony. Words lost among exploded bone and twisted sinew.

She'd hate him for seeing this. He hated himself for it too.

[almostinhuman]

Other times, it felt like his Gift's only real perk.

[almostinhuman]

Mundane, compared to some nights; just him at home. Usually, he dreamed of his boyfriend, but tonight he was alone.

He almost told him, but the words turned to ash on his tongue. It didn't matter. Just being with him was enough.