{Ashley} What Dreams May Come - Part 1
Mar. 15th, 2012 02:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wayfarers_lodgeMay, 1988
The world was cold, and painted in black and white, washed with the faint blue of the moon. She wandered across the vast swathes of empty ground, stiff and slow, like the dreams of the dead.
She couldn't tell what was happening- the words on her lips were gibberish, and meant nothing to her. Her body was heavy and strange, almost moving on its own. But somehow, it felt right, and it felt glorious to be here in this place, at this time.
She couldn't judge the passing of time, but after what seemed to be years, she stumbled upon a place, bright with colour- blues and greens and bright, sticky reds all bound up in a small, moving form. It lay still, but for the heaving of its chest. The colours startled her, and awakened a hunger within her, the likes of which she had never known.
She fell on the shape, tearing and biting, trying to take the colours from it into herself. She growled softly as she found her hands were weak- why was this thing not still by now? Why was it still struggling and making those senseless, bleating noises? She redoubled her efforts, and snarled again as the bleating grew louder and more urgent.
Suddenly she was snatched up by invisible arms. She shrieked with rage and started biting and kicking as the bright, warm thing shrunk away into the darkness.
"NO!" She cried, writhing in the grasp of her tormentors, and her shouting was answered by a high, keening, piercing sound. "NO, NO, NO, N-"
She woke up to her mother screaming.
"Ashley! Ashley, stop it! Stop it!" She shouted as her father strained to hold her, arms wrapped around her like steel bars.
She stopped struggling, and took in the scene around her. The bedroom was a mess- torn sheets, scattered pillows, tangled curtains everywhere. Who had done that? What had happened?
Then, in the corner of the room, curled up against their mother, was her brother, Martin. He was trembling and crying, for good reason- his face and arms were torn and bloody, and bruises were blooming wherever there wasn't blood.
Who has hurt my brother? she wondered, anger stirring in her breast at the mere thought of it. He's only four. I'll show the-
She looked down at her hands, puzzled that they hurt as she clenched her fists. The fingernails were torn, and they were covered in blood, a testament to what she couldn't remember. What had happened struck her like a bolt from the blue- She had hurt her brother, she had fought her parents when they tried to stop her, and she couldn't remember it at all- only the faintest recollections of a strange dream.
With a soft gurgle, eight-year-old Ashley Jackson swooned in her fathers' arms as the full realisation of what happened swept over her.
==
On the other side of the world, hands fumbled for glasses. It was late afternoon, but when the old man felt compelled to go into true slumber, he did so.
He sat up slowly, confused at the sensation of his body for a moment, before shaking his head and pressing an intercom button.
"Dr Knauss," he said, "Could you please come to my office? I've had a dream about another one of us."
August, 1989
"They want us to take her to Austria?"
Melanie Jackson pinched the bridge of her nose, as her husband stared at her in disbelief.
"Yes, Brian, Austria. Dr Schnieder said that the Eigner Clinic was one of the best facilities in the world for this. He's got us some forms to fill in, says there's a waiting li-"
"So there's a waiting list for the privilege of taking our daughter overseas to treat something that should be being fixed here?" Mr Jackson spoke slowly, carefully enunciating each word, so that he didn't start shouting. "She doesn't need to be sent away from her family, Mel, it'll just upset her more, and how the hell are we supposed to affo-"
"Chrissakes, Brian, she's dying!" She snapped in reply. Down the hall, there was a soft, worried noise as someone stirred in their sleep. Both adults looked up in strained silence, only turning to look at each other again when the noise didn't come again.
Melanie sighed, and pulled a cigarette out of the case on the table, lighting it with shaking hands.
"The doctors say that she's down to about one full night's worth of sleep every three nights. She's falling well behind at school. They had a substitute teacher last week... the only reason that she didn't report Ashley's condition to Child Services is because she had trouble filling out the forms and had to ask Mr Johnson for help when he came back!"
Her voice squeaked on the last word as she choked down a ragged sob. Brian buried his face in his hands. Down the hall, someone stirred in their sleep again. He eventually looked up, his eyes black with fear for his little girl.
"We don't have any other choice, do we?"
His wife shook her head. "Not a one."
Down the hall, the screaming started. Mr Jackson nodded to his wife wearily, and went to tend to their daughter.
~*~*~*~
The next morning, Ashley sat in the loungeroom, looking at her parents with dull eyes. They kept her home on the days after violent sleep disruptions, but had long ago run out of new things for her to do, so while the sitting down to talk was an interesting change in schedule, she just couldn't muster the energy to be curious.
"We have some new forms to fill out for you, sweetie..." said her father uncertainly. This never got any easier for any of them. "And they say we have some questions to ask you, so they can help you. Dr Schneider loaned us this tape recorder, so we can send it in to the clinic, OK? So speak up, nice and clear."
He cleared his throat, and focussed on the paper he held in front of him.
"Alright. Question One. When you are dreaming," he said, reciting the words very carefully, "Do you feel as if you are yourself, or that you are something or someone else?"
He turned to look at his wife, unimpressed. "Really? This psychobabble? She's supposed to understa-"
"Both. It feels like both."
Mr and Mrs Jackson turned to look at their daughter. She was sitting upright, her dark eyes interested for the first time in months.
"O... K, can you tell us more about that, Ashley?" Her father stuttered after a long pause.
"It feels like... I am still me. But something's making me do things. I don't understand the things it wants me to do. I don't understand it at all. But it makes me... see things differently. I... I'm not hitting people in my dream. I'm hitting things that I think are my enemies, and I'm hungry, but I know it's not me. So it's both."
Her father nodded slowly, and then read the next question. As she replied to each one, her eyes thoughtful and her voice deliberate, they all dared to hope that, at long last, there was someone who could help them.
==
Two weeks later, on the other side of the world, the old man called Dr Knauss up to his office again, and asked her to bring the mail with her.
"Dr Eigner," she said as she entered the office, her voice firm, but not cold, "You really shouldn't have to go through all these interviews yourself. Surely someone else can help?"
"No, Uli, please, sit." He gestured to a chair beside his, and took the three packages from her as she settled herself. "No, they can't. Not unless they dream of them, too. Come, we need to find this one, it's been almost a year."
The first two tapes produced nothing. Dr Knauss sighed.
"Doctor, surely I can do something?"
Dr Eigner smiled gently.
"I wish you could, Dr Knauss, but no. Your path is chosen, and you have your blessings for that, and you can see to the others on that path. This one is destined to walk the Dreamer's road, to come here, and I will find them. This is not something that you can see, and you are not less for it. Now, let's have the last."
He took the last tape and put it into the dictaphone, and thumbed through the documents that came with it as it started up.
"Australian. Violent somnabulic behaviour. No response to trea-"
"Both. It feels like both."
Dr Eigner's head shot up, and he stared at the dictaphone until the little girl spoke again. Then he smiled.
"It's her. We've found her."
He listened to the rest of the interview, and turned to Dr Knauss, eyebrows knitting with worry.
"We need to get her here as soon as possible. Her time is running out."
The world was cold, and painted in black and white, washed with the faint blue of the moon. She wandered across the vast swathes of empty ground, stiff and slow, like the dreams of the dead.
She couldn't tell what was happening- the words on her lips were gibberish, and meant nothing to her. Her body was heavy and strange, almost moving on its own. But somehow, it felt right, and it felt glorious to be here in this place, at this time.
She couldn't judge the passing of time, but after what seemed to be years, she stumbled upon a place, bright with colour- blues and greens and bright, sticky reds all bound up in a small, moving form. It lay still, but for the heaving of its chest. The colours startled her, and awakened a hunger within her, the likes of which she had never known.
She fell on the shape, tearing and biting, trying to take the colours from it into herself. She growled softly as she found her hands were weak- why was this thing not still by now? Why was it still struggling and making those senseless, bleating noises? She redoubled her efforts, and snarled again as the bleating grew louder and more urgent.
Suddenly she was snatched up by invisible arms. She shrieked with rage and started biting and kicking as the bright, warm thing shrunk away into the darkness.
"NO!" She cried, writhing in the grasp of her tormentors, and her shouting was answered by a high, keening, piercing sound. "NO, NO, NO, N-"
She woke up to her mother screaming.
"Ashley! Ashley, stop it! Stop it!" She shouted as her father strained to hold her, arms wrapped around her like steel bars.
She stopped struggling, and took in the scene around her. The bedroom was a mess- torn sheets, scattered pillows, tangled curtains everywhere. Who had done that? What had happened?
Then, in the corner of the room, curled up against their mother, was her brother, Martin. He was trembling and crying, for good reason- his face and arms were torn and bloody, and bruises were blooming wherever there wasn't blood.
Who has hurt my brother? she wondered, anger stirring in her breast at the mere thought of it. He's only four. I'll show the-
She looked down at her hands, puzzled that they hurt as she clenched her fists. The fingernails were torn, and they were covered in blood, a testament to what she couldn't remember. What had happened struck her like a bolt from the blue- She had hurt her brother, she had fought her parents when they tried to stop her, and she couldn't remember it at all- only the faintest recollections of a strange dream.
With a soft gurgle, eight-year-old Ashley Jackson swooned in her fathers' arms as the full realisation of what happened swept over her.
==
On the other side of the world, hands fumbled for glasses. It was late afternoon, but when the old man felt compelled to go into true slumber, he did so.
He sat up slowly, confused at the sensation of his body for a moment, before shaking his head and pressing an intercom button.
"Dr Knauss," he said, "Could you please come to my office? I've had a dream about another one of us."
August, 1989
"They want us to take her to Austria?"
Melanie Jackson pinched the bridge of her nose, as her husband stared at her in disbelief.
"Yes, Brian, Austria. Dr Schnieder said that the Eigner Clinic was one of the best facilities in the world for this. He's got us some forms to fill in, says there's a waiting li-"
"So there's a waiting list for the privilege of taking our daughter overseas to treat something that should be being fixed here?" Mr Jackson spoke slowly, carefully enunciating each word, so that he didn't start shouting. "She doesn't need to be sent away from her family, Mel, it'll just upset her more, and how the hell are we supposed to affo-"
"Chrissakes, Brian, she's dying!" She snapped in reply. Down the hall, there was a soft, worried noise as someone stirred in their sleep. Both adults looked up in strained silence, only turning to look at each other again when the noise didn't come again.
Melanie sighed, and pulled a cigarette out of the case on the table, lighting it with shaking hands.
"The doctors say that she's down to about one full night's worth of sleep every three nights. She's falling well behind at school. They had a substitute teacher last week... the only reason that she didn't report Ashley's condition to Child Services is because she had trouble filling out the forms and had to ask Mr Johnson for help when he came back!"
Her voice squeaked on the last word as she choked down a ragged sob. Brian buried his face in his hands. Down the hall, someone stirred in their sleep again. He eventually looked up, his eyes black with fear for his little girl.
"We don't have any other choice, do we?"
His wife shook her head. "Not a one."
Down the hall, the screaming started. Mr Jackson nodded to his wife wearily, and went to tend to their daughter.
~*~*~*~
The next morning, Ashley sat in the loungeroom, looking at her parents with dull eyes. They kept her home on the days after violent sleep disruptions, but had long ago run out of new things for her to do, so while the sitting down to talk was an interesting change in schedule, she just couldn't muster the energy to be curious.
"We have some new forms to fill out for you, sweetie..." said her father uncertainly. This never got any easier for any of them. "And they say we have some questions to ask you, so they can help you. Dr Schneider loaned us this tape recorder, so we can send it in to the clinic, OK? So speak up, nice and clear."
He cleared his throat, and focussed on the paper he held in front of him.
"Alright. Question One. When you are dreaming," he said, reciting the words very carefully, "Do you feel as if you are yourself, or that you are something or someone else?"
He turned to look at his wife, unimpressed. "Really? This psychobabble? She's supposed to understa-"
"Both. It feels like both."
Mr and Mrs Jackson turned to look at their daughter. She was sitting upright, her dark eyes interested for the first time in months.
"O... K, can you tell us more about that, Ashley?" Her father stuttered after a long pause.
"It feels like... I am still me. But something's making me do things. I don't understand the things it wants me to do. I don't understand it at all. But it makes me... see things differently. I... I'm not hitting people in my dream. I'm hitting things that I think are my enemies, and I'm hungry, but I know it's not me. So it's both."
Her father nodded slowly, and then read the next question. As she replied to each one, her eyes thoughtful and her voice deliberate, they all dared to hope that, at long last, there was someone who could help them.
==
Two weeks later, on the other side of the world, the old man called Dr Knauss up to his office again, and asked her to bring the mail with her.
"Dr Eigner," she said as she entered the office, her voice firm, but not cold, "You really shouldn't have to go through all these interviews yourself. Surely someone else can help?"
"No, Uli, please, sit." He gestured to a chair beside his, and took the three packages from her as she settled herself. "No, they can't. Not unless they dream of them, too. Come, we need to find this one, it's been almost a year."
The first two tapes produced nothing. Dr Knauss sighed.
"Doctor, surely I can do something?"
Dr Eigner smiled gently.
"I wish you could, Dr Knauss, but no. Your path is chosen, and you have your blessings for that, and you can see to the others on that path. This one is destined to walk the Dreamer's road, to come here, and I will find them. This is not something that you can see, and you are not less for it. Now, let's have the last."
He took the last tape and put it into the dictaphone, and thumbed through the documents that came with it as it started up.
"Australian. Violent somnabulic behaviour. No response to trea-"
"Both. It feels like both."
Dr Eigner's head shot up, and he stared at the dictaphone until the little girl spoke again. Then he smiled.
"It's her. We've found her."
He listened to the rest of the interview, and turned to Dr Knauss, eyebrows knitting with worry.
"We need to get her here as soon as possible. Her time is running out."
