All Who Can Die
Summary: Nitrim experiences a dream in the middle of the night that melds into the real.
Date: 26 May 2013
Related: Immediately precedes Hair of the Dog by about three hours.

25, May 3013 — Khournas Hotel Rooms - Landing

All who can die are dreams, as are all who have died, as are all who have dreamt it…

When the mistake becomes real…no sins are forgiven…

Black Skies. Black Words. Black Water. Black is all…

Nitrim Khournas slept, but like often his dreams were invaded by words and images that he could never truly differentiate between the prophetic and the personal. All all times, his connection to the Awakened was like a shadow; forever there and always just out of sight. It was something that he felt he could reach out and wrap his fingers around, if only it was a tangible thing. Always and forever, his dreams were the same, and as he slept, he felt he could control them if only he reached out just right.

That night, his dreams were black, with the occasional flashes of imagery at a varied interval that appeared as if seen through a strobe light. For a second they were present and what he saw wasn't understood until after the picture was gone, and then he was left to his thoughts until he was assaulted by another image.

Another flash, this time of a girl with long black hair that fell straight in sheets over her athletic shoulders. Her body was cocked at an angle at the hip; elbows up as her fingertips threaded through the hair at the back of her neck. In that brief moment of vision, he could make out the dark, clinging undergarments that held to her form like a second skin. Was she dancing? Was she dancing for him? Her face…so familiar.

Another flash came and went, which drew a quick breath into his lungs. Like a monster that filled his vision, a face of an old, gaunt man whitewashed as if in front of a computer's monitor. Just a face, it was, and it was staring at him. It said nothing, but the startling form was near monolithic in size to Nitrim's perceptions as it could have been close to him though somehow the young man knew that wasn't true. No…Nitrim was far away, and that face was impossibly large and impossibly old. It was like a face carved into a mountainside, and Nitrim was hanging from climbing rope just before its lips. It would likely never move, but if it did it would surely swallow him whole.

"…another hit…"

Nitrim's body was nudged, and he wasn't shaken from his dream. Instead, it was as if his body merely shifted modes from the land of dreams to the land of the awake. His blood-red eyes opened to view the ceiling above through a blood red filter.

Everything's blood when you're under He thought to himself as the warm, sweaty body beside him nudged his ribs once more; this time with a soft press of lips to his ribcage.

"Baby, pass it over. I need to take another hit…" The black-haired girl from the dream came into focus as her hair brushed over his jaw. Nitrim's eyes fluttered down in time to catch the outline of her jaw, her tattooed shoulder, and the hanging swell of her bared breast as it passed over his abdomen.

She was attractive and athletic, and at that very moment Nitrim hoped that she understood that she could never be his.

He reached for the nightstand to grab the black bottle that contained their night's supply of Red Eye. It was one of seven bottles on the nightstand where the alarm clock had been knocked over. The others contained alcohol and single-use birth control. Her lips were hot and breathy on his neck, and her mane of raven-black hair trapped the air between them in a way that made him claustrophobic.

On nights filled with sex and narcotics, sometimes oxygen was a limited commodity.

"Here…" He offered her the bottle. She sat up straight, straddling his waist, and tilted her head back. Her body cocked at a slight angle at the hip and her elbows came up to tilt the eye-dropper to her eyelids, which she held open.

The dream was wrong. She wasn't dancing, and she wasn't clothed…but the image in the dream formed again in Nitrim's consciousness. He knew it was the same pose, the same body, and the same girl.

Her hips began to move again…

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