Today I had a dream. I slept, yes, from about 8 until 4 … this is good – it means I got eight hours of sleep … and that’s good. But the dreams were very odd … Dream One Something was wrong with me. I wanted to move, but I was far too weak. I was in Cris’ arms, though – I knew it was Cris, he was carrying me, but I wanted to get away for some reason. Usually, I feel safe in his arms – but this time I just wanted to move. I felt so sedated, though, I could not move. Tired. Heavy. When I tried to move my arm, it was just … too heavy. I could tell that I was fighting for consciousness – to even keep my eyes open. I remember going into a building, being set upon a chair and Cris before me, trying to hold me up, crouched before me and holding my arms. He was talking to me, but his words weren’t sinking in, I couldn’t understand him. I just kept swaying to the left, and he kept pushing me back up into place. I think I had been poisoned; I heard him say that word. I did know that he was repeating himself – but it was rare that the words actually registered. He was waiting for someone to come, someone that could help me – that was why he took me to that building and had me sitting in that chair. Then there was another person there, an older person. He was crouching down by the chair arm to my right. He was stroking my arm, telling me not to give in, no matter how badly I wanted to. I didn’t want to listen to him, but I did. What I wanted was just to sleep, and end … just sleep, and everything would be gone – not necessarily fixed, but over. I felt this man pulling on my sleeve, pushing it up. He stuck a needle in my arm. I hate needles. Usually I squirm and scream, but this time I just sat there – not even a whimper. I could feel whatever was in the syringe go into my veins … and start to burn. I was starting to feel fuzzy and suffocated – the feeling before fainting, when things start spinning and closing. And at that moment, I was afraid I was going to die – I knew who that person was … and he was not on my side. The man was grinning as he took out the needle. And I felt my eyes grow large, felt my heart speeding up and body trembling – about to give out. And I suddenly reached out, wrapping my arms around Cris’ neck. Massive ringing in my ears, in my head. I was afraid. I cried “Cris …” Then took a sharp breath and woke up. I hate dreams like this … they scare the shit out of me. But when I woke up, I felt as though someone was holding me down. I don’t know if it was good or bad – if they wanted me to go back to sleep because I needed rest, or if they wanted to frighten me. I just don’t know. Dream Two I was young, perhaps eight years old, not sure. This dream came in flashes. There was a man, with a whip – this dream was a memory. This man, I thought, in the dream was my father … not my father in real life, but my father in dreams … There was a woman there – no – a girl, a young woman with black hair. She was off to the side. I don’t know who she was – a friend of the family, guest, sister, I just don’t know. But my dream father was yelling at me, in this dark hall. He threw me against the wall. He was cursing me for the death of my mother. He called me a sickness. He called me a mistake. It was like a bad dream within a bad dream, like I was remembering something from a childhood I could not remember … The woman ran over to me, wrapped her arms around me – I couldn’t see her face, it was shadowed. She was begging the man to stop – but my father was still yelling. He yelled something about me never being happy. He cursed me, telling me that I would never be happy, that I would never find love, that I will die alone. I was scared of this man I thought I loved. But then he came at me and the woman with his whip, and slashed into my arm … my chest … again and again … I didn’t want to fight back … he was my father. But I remember grabbing his whip and yanking it from him. Little me, little young me, snapping it and it coiling around his neck. But the next thing I knew, I was 21 again, and opening my eyes in this field, in someone’s arms. Cris’ again. People were coming. Bad people. Cris didn’t notice that my eyes had opened. It was very bright outside and he was walking swiftly through this field. I could feel people coming … could feel them … coming; and slowly, my hand drifted to his waist … he kept a sword there, at least for now. My fingers clasped around it – Cris still didn’t notice that I was awake … until I grabbed the thing and ripped it out of its sheath before slipping out of his arms and to my feet to swing the blade at this woman. I sliced off her arms. She went into shock. She’d been carrying two guns, pointed right at him. The last thing I remember is seeing her arms fall to the ground and her body convulse as Cris grabbed me again. … and that’s it … that’s all for now. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to spend some time with my lovely. Side note: Today, I read Kafka of Count Cain – to a point of actually understanding it this time, now that I have it in English. Sure, I can pick out some in French, but not much – I mean, it’s not like I speak it fluently or even really at all, but I can get the gist of things. There is one scene, where Cain is dreaming, and his father curses him – he tells him that he will always be alone and never fall in love, or rather, he will fall in love but it will never last, never work for him, and his heart will be broken time and time again … and he will die alone. And then his father died. I’m seriously starting to wonder about Kaori Yuki … You know … Cain hates his eyes. Despite how beautiful they are … he hates them.