5th Crack in the Universe // Amy Pond’s {Dream}
The dream begins in blackness. Slowly, little pin-pricks of light appear in the dark. Stars. Only a few at first but they soon begin to multiply until hundreds and hundreds populate the sky. Amy appears. Floating weightlessly in a white nightie and robe, staring out at the expanses of space around her.
Then there is a man. Those who know him will recognize the familiar face of the Doctor, except he is lacking his signature bowtie and looking generally bedraggled. He is sitting at a table and eating fish fingers dipped in custard. He smiles at the young girl with bright ginger hair sitting across from him. “Amelia Pond,” he says. “Like a name in a fairytale.”
Suddenly it is bright. Much too bright and blank. The stark white of a facility room. This particular room being number 37D.
Just a quickly it’s back to the Doctor, looking as he did while eating fish custard, but now he’s with the very much grown up Amy Pond. She’s dressed as a police woman and clutching an apple in her left hand. She’s staring intently at the smiley face carved into the fruit. “I’m the Doctor. I’m a time traveler.” Her eyes snap up to meet the Doctor’s when the memory melds into another.
It’s the same man but with a different face, his features thinner and sharper. He beams through the faciliberry screen. “I'm a funny-looking guy with a blue box!”
A crack breaks across the screen. A bright white light pours from the crack as it grows larger and larger, until it washes out anything else. Then even the crack dissolves away leaving just a glowing blankness.
A face appears as the white fades away. He’s a handsome man with a nose that’s perhaps a bit too large. He’s wearing blue scrubs and standing on a village green. “Amy!” He cries in a tone somewhere between astonishment and scolding.
Then they’re children again. Amelia Pond fixing a tie on a young Rory Williams. The boy is dressed as a certain ragged-y doctor. He seems unsure of the game but Amelia’s face is determined, the corners of her mouth curled up in a smile.
The glint of a diamond. The ring on Amy’s left hand catches the light as she examines the stone. She looks up to see Rory smiling back at her before they embrace.
She takes a hold of her fiance’s arm as they stroll down the streets of Venice in 1580. The two seemingly out of place in their modern clothing but not seeming to care. Rory takes up a broom to protect her from attack, wielding it like a make-shift staff in an almost comical fashion.
Finally, the pair stand in the control room of the TARDIS. Rory is about to ask Amy a very important question. “But how’d you know it was a dream? Before you crashed the van? How’d you know you wouldn’t just die?”
“I didn’t.”
He kisses her and she kisses him back. Their arms wrap around one another and don’t let go.
The TARDIS fades away, replaced by the white of the facility. Amy walks arm in arm with a dark-haired young man, smiling and laughing. A sandy-haired teenage boy looks out of the faciliberry, his features clouded with confusion. Her partner in crime sits perched on a desk, dark eyeliner accentuating the mischievous look in her eyes. A young Drakyr averts his eyes as a blush colors his cheeks. A mix-matched pair, one red and one blond, sit together like fitted pieces of a puzzle. A girl leans over the back of a couch, blue eyes flashing though black hair. A soft-spoken ice-demon peers through an open door, her face filled with concern. “Miss Amy?”
Amy throws herself into the arms of her imaginary friend. Her Ragged-y Doctor, come back from the dead. The fold into one another and hold on for dear life. Tears prick in her eyes as he whispers the words to her. “I do not blame you, I could never blame you, and you didn't know, so don't you blame you either.”
A strange woman, an impossible woman who shouldn’t even exist, regards her carefully and offers Amy a life-line, an assurance. “You’ll go back to him, to Pretty.”
At last, Amy stands alone in front of a mirror. She’s wearing a white dress, a wedding dress. She fixes the veil into her hair and lets her hands fall to her sides. She runs her fingers over the smooth fabric and looks at her reflection. The image holds for a long moment before everything goes fuzzy and fades to nothing.
Then there is a man. Those who know him will recognize the familiar face of the Doctor, except he is lacking his signature bowtie and looking generally bedraggled. He is sitting at a table and eating fish fingers dipped in custard. He smiles at the young girl with bright ginger hair sitting across from him. “Amelia Pond,” he says. “Like a name in a fairytale.”
Suddenly it is bright. Much too bright and blank. The stark white of a facility room. This particular room being number 37D.
Just a quickly it’s back to the Doctor, looking as he did while eating fish custard, but now he’s with the very much grown up Amy Pond. She’s dressed as a police woman and clutching an apple in her left hand. She’s staring intently at the smiley face carved into the fruit. “I’m the Doctor. I’m a time traveler.” Her eyes snap up to meet the Doctor’s when the memory melds into another.
It’s the same man but with a different face, his features thinner and sharper. He beams through the faciliberry screen. “I'm a funny-looking guy with a blue box!”
A crack breaks across the screen. A bright white light pours from the crack as it grows larger and larger, until it washes out anything else. Then even the crack dissolves away leaving just a glowing blankness.
A face appears as the white fades away. He’s a handsome man with a nose that’s perhaps a bit too large. He’s wearing blue scrubs and standing on a village green. “Amy!” He cries in a tone somewhere between astonishment and scolding.
Then they’re children again. Amelia Pond fixing a tie on a young Rory Williams. The boy is dressed as a certain ragged-y doctor. He seems unsure of the game but Amelia’s face is determined, the corners of her mouth curled up in a smile.
The glint of a diamond. The ring on Amy’s left hand catches the light as she examines the stone. She looks up to see Rory smiling back at her before they embrace.
She takes a hold of her fiance’s arm as they stroll down the streets of Venice in 1580. The two seemingly out of place in their modern clothing but not seeming to care. Rory takes up a broom to protect her from attack, wielding it like a make-shift staff in an almost comical fashion.
Finally, the pair stand in the control room of the TARDIS. Rory is about to ask Amy a very important question. “But how’d you know it was a dream? Before you crashed the van? How’d you know you wouldn’t just die?”
“I didn’t.”
He kisses her and she kisses him back. Their arms wrap around one another and don’t let go.
The TARDIS fades away, replaced by the white of the facility. Amy walks arm in arm with a dark-haired young man, smiling and laughing. A sandy-haired teenage boy looks out of the faciliberry, his features clouded with confusion. Her partner in crime sits perched on a desk, dark eyeliner accentuating the mischievous look in her eyes. A young Drakyr averts his eyes as a blush colors his cheeks. A mix-matched pair, one red and one blond, sit together like fitted pieces of a puzzle. A girl leans over the back of a couch, blue eyes flashing though black hair. A soft-spoken ice-demon peers through an open door, her face filled with concern. “Miss Amy?”
Amy throws herself into the arms of her imaginary friend. Her Ragged-y Doctor, come back from the dead. The fold into one another and hold on for dear life. Tears prick in her eyes as he whispers the words to her. “I do not blame you, I could never blame you, and you didn't know, so don't you blame you either.”
A strange woman, an impossible woman who shouldn’t even exist, regards her carefully and offers Amy a life-line, an assurance. “You’ll go back to him, to Pretty.”
At last, Amy stands alone in front of a mirror. She’s wearing a white dress, a wedding dress. She fixes the veil into her hair and lets her hands fall to her sides. She runs her fingers over the smooth fabric and looks at her reflection. The image holds for a long moment before everything goes fuzzy and fades to nothing.