ArchivedLogs:Dream Interpretation

Dream Interpretation
Dramatis Personae Micah, Jackson
In Absentia	29 January 2014 More evidence of Micah's 'ability'? (Takes place directly after Micah shares a dream with Lucien and Matt.) (Part of the Morpheus TP.)
Location <NYC> Candyland - Village Lofts - East Village
This bedroom is bright, bright, bright, a cheerful riot of colour in contrast to the more minimalist scheme outside. It, too, has a plethora of lamps to lend it even more light than what comes in from the large windows opposite the entry; many of them bear stained-glass coverings in cheerful mosaic patterns to add still more colour to the room. The walls have been painted in pale blue with darker blue trim, though one is instead a mural of surreal fantastical artwork, odd unearthly plant and animal life spread across it in vivid colours. There is scattering of furniture here -- a bed on the wall adjacent to the window (usually dressed in vividly patterned mismatched sheets), a dresser opposite the bed, standing beside the large closet, both in wood that has been painted black and then covered in a swarm of brightly coloured images, too. The wall near the door bears an enormous handmade shelving unit, similarly painted; it is filled largely with meticulously organized art supplies. By the window, a desk stands in as-yet-unpainted wood; besides laptops and drawing tablet it often bears an eclectic mix of items, too. Comic books, knitting supplies, a hiking pack of climbing gear. It is technically morning when Micah wakes, uncurling from the little ball he'd tucked himself into at Jax's side with a half-asleep nuzzle against the other man's ribs. Still dark as it is, he turns and reaches for his phone where it is charging on the nightstand to check the time and see how much of it is left before he has to be up for work. Instead of empty space followed by phone, his hand hits up against glass and is answered by a pleasant tinkling and sloshing sound. His brow furrows, sleep-befuddled, as his hand fishes blindly around until it finds the phone, turning on the screen to aim at the mystery object. Breath catching sharply, he promptly /drops/ the phone back to the nightstand with a clatter. Jackson answers this shifting at his side with a sleepy mumble that soon tapers off. He doesn't say anything but the shift in his breathing is almost immediate, slow-even to quicker and less regular like flipping a switch; around the room the myriad (bloody) (gruesome) half-images that had been forming melt off into the shadows. His arms curl around Micah slowly, small wisps of dim half-light dancing around the pools of shadows in between the small lights from the nightlights at the far corners of the room. "-- Honey?" There's a tension wired through his voice, through his muscles, a /protectiveness/ in his hold that follows Micah's sharp catch of breath. A faint dim /shimmer/ around the edges of the room that soon fades. A dim glow blossoms overhead. Jax tips his head down to kiss the top of Micah's. "Honey, you okay? Bad dream?" "No," Micah answers simply, shaking his head in a ruffle of pillow-mussed auburn hair against Jax's chin. "Good one." He hugs Jax close a moment, then has to release in order to stretch and reach the bedside reading lamp and click it on. The light glitters against a glass vase filled with swirling rainbow water, a bouquet of crafted flowers in it: a tall stalk of yarrow made from malachite and a bunch of snowdrops, some hematite, some moonstone, some /candy/. "I think this might be...um. Proof of the special ability theory. Or at least really strong evidence supportin' the hypothesis." "Mmm." Mmm for the hug and mmm again when the light turns on; Jackson basks in it a moment but then /gasps/, audibly, when he looks at the vase of flowers. His eye widens, the heel of his hand digging in hard against the hollow socket of his missing one. His arms curl tighter around Micah, pulling the other man in against him. "A -- ah -- ahhh." His mouth gapes open. Closes again. Opens. Closes. He presses his lips to the top of Micah's head, a shimmer of rainbowy light swirling around him. Eventually he reaches out, brushing fingers slowly down the fronds of malachite yarrow, then down his bicep -- a frond of yarrow prominently tattooed among the medicinal herbs there. "Leapin' lizards," he breathes out. Micah nods rather solemnly in agreement for such a statement. "I had another...one of those dreams. Those...really-real feelin' dreams. Was...chasin' Sprite. She jumped out the window an' I walked out an' Lucien was there. Like, /really/ Lucien. In his garden with these flowers'n /Matt/." Micah's eyes widen suddenly, owl-like, eyebrows making a break for his hairline. "Like, /really/ Matt. Jax, honey, it wasn't like...Matt when I saw 'im last. Or Matt like he was when I first met 'im. Like /really/ Matt. He was readin' in a hammock. An' then he curled up with us. An' Sprite was a puppy. Then it rained an' there was all this rainbow water an' he dived away. But... He looked different. Had some muscle on 'im. Head was shaved, but...kinda. Scarred?" He turns into Jax, wrapping his arms around the other man squeezing-tight. "Honey, I think...Matt's still alive. I think...maybe that... Oh/gosh/." At first Jax's lips curl up into a quick smile. "You was dreamin' 'bout Lucien?" It's not so much a tease as it is just warm, his fingers playing softly against Micah's side. "Oh, and Matt -- that /does/ sound like a nice --" But his breath catches at Micah's supposition. He falls quiet, burying his face against the other man's hair. "Micah --" He sounds uncertain, now. "How do -- Micah-honey, I don't -- I mean, we don't even rightly know how this is really --" He breathes out shakily into Micah's hair, and pulls back to look at the other man with teeth dragging against his lower lip. "Matt's been dead a long while now, sweetie." "Wasn't dreamin' /'bout/ Lucien. Was /dreamin'/ Lucien. He was there." Micah tips his chin up to regard Jax from where he had tucked his head in against him. "/You/ been through this. Y'know how it /felt/. When...y'touched me in the dream an' it /was/ me. It's dif'rent. I was /with/ them, Jax. /Both/ of them. It was him. An' he looked..." He pauses, lips pressing together thin as his brow furrows, almost hesitant to continue his argument. "He didn't look /sick/ anymore but he looked kinda like the people y'all break outta those labs." Another moment of hesitation stops him before he speaks again. "An' Lucien never got t'see 'im. They called 'im an' he went, but they'd...cremated 'im before he got there. Honey, somebody could've... It /could've/ been... He's /alive/, Jax." "Micah --" There's still a definite note of doubt in Jax's voice, his teeth sinking down against his lip. "Honey, I know --" But here he stops. Checks himself, his arm tightening around Micah as he /bites/ back his words. There's a /visible/ struggle in his expression, the light around them flickering; he looks down at Micah's face, watching that furrow of brow, watching that hesitation. He quiets, sliding his other arm around Micah as well, exhaling slow and heavy and pressing a kiss to the other man's forehead. "-- Y'really felt him." His voice is softer, now. "But who'd -- ohgosh." Now his silence is a different caliber entirely, colour draining from his face. His cheek tips to rest atop Micah's head. "If Luci was there, y'think he done felt him, too?" "I did," Micah asserts firmly. "I did an' oh/gosh/, Luci." His eyes widen again. "I'm sure he did. I'm sure he did, but he'll prob'ly just think it's...like when we had the first dream. Just thought it /felt/ really real. He won't know. I ain't had a chance t'ask 'im about the whole me havin' special abilities thing. I gotta call 'im." There's a shift of weight as Micah actually starts to reach for his phone. But then he settles back in against Jax. "How early's too early t'call about somethin' like this?" "Okay." There's a brief squeeze of tension -- something conflicted crosses Jax's face -- but however much he might really /want/ to argue this further, he just draws in a slow breath, holds his husband closer, and swallows back further protest to accept his words. "'kay, honey-honey. Ohgosh. Micah, if you're /bringing/ things t'dreams from life, maybe he /ain't/ been alive all this while. Maybe you --" He swallows, shivers faintly. "Maybe you just --" He bites his lip again. He shakes his head, at the question of the time. "Oh -- oh, wow, um. Luci keeps weird hours but I think -- I think anyway if this's like when we was dreamin' together /an'/ -- an' if y'all /did/ have the same dream then -- then maybe if he's done jus' woked up too he might -- could do with a call, early or not." Micah's head shakes in slow denial at that implication. "No...no, I been makin'... Stuffed animals an' statues an' stone flowers. Ain't been /makin'/ nothin' alive. Can't...can't nobody /do/ that. There's gotta be /limits/ on these things, ain't there?" Micah shivers against Jax's side. "An' if I /was/ makin' 'im up...why would I make 'im look...like he'd been in the labs? Wouldn't I just make 'im look like I remember? Or just plain /healthy/?" Trembling again, he gives Jax a last squeeze before twisting to retrieve his phone. "Should I actually call? Or text? Ain't no kinda /protocol/ for this type of thing." "No," Jackson says, softly, when Micah says there has to be limits. "I mean, look at what Karrie does. An' I know -- I've known other folks. What can just -- whole-cloth -- make. Livin'-things. Plants or -- animals or. Why /not/ people. I know a -- person. Once. What coulda maked people." His cheeks flush dark. He shakes his head quickly, emphatically. "I don't know. I just don't /know/. Matt was dead. He was dyin'. Maybe I jus'. That's a better thought, Micah." Briefly, his voice shakes. "Than the alternative." He sits up, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. "I -- I guess call." Micah just pales and pales further as Jax speaks, a sick sort of reversal of his usual ever-ramping blush. A hard swallow rolls down his throat. “I...I'll call 'im.” His hand shakes as he unlocks the screen on his phone, selects the contact, and waits.