[Open Post - John Reese] Have you ever had a dream, Neo, that you were sure was real?
Reese does not dream much, or if he does dream, the images in his mind do not impress themselves deeply enough into his recall to linger long in his mind. Lately, however, his dreams have started to grow more vivid, even alarmingly vivid. Faces from his world so expressive, events so powerful, he awakens from them shaking, certain that he has seen and witnessed them for real, though by morning, they have faded from his mind except as vague impressions.
But one night, one especially vivid dream shocks him awake, a dream so powerful that he finds dampness in the corners of his eyes and his tee shirt gummed to his chest from a cold sweat. A moment's recollection and he drops his feet to the floor, heading out and padding downstairs to find himself a drink to force the dream back to the far corners of his mind.
Friends lost, new ones gained, enemies turning to allies less than reliable, rumors of worse plagues than the ones he knows emerging from the Pandora's Box that Finch had alluded to on the day that Reese agreed to work with him, things bad enough to contaminate the last home-like place that he had known for some time. But at least he has this place, this strange mansion, in which to find shelter, in the event that these dreams prove to be more than real. He can only home these images are just that, images, with no substance from his world.
Title ganked from -- yep! -- The Matrix. Not a canon update, just our boy having strange dreams. Open to anyone who might be up and about at this late hour, though folks are free to find him during the day, likely in the library. Cleaning his firearms. Sadly, no Finch here to scold him for it, but people can do the honors.
But one night, one especially vivid dream shocks him awake, a dream so powerful that he finds dampness in the corners of his eyes and his tee shirt gummed to his chest from a cold sweat. A moment's recollection and he drops his feet to the floor, heading out and padding downstairs to find himself a drink to force the dream back to the far corners of his mind.
Friends lost, new ones gained, enemies turning to allies less than reliable, rumors of worse plagues than the ones he knows emerging from the Pandora's Box that Finch had alluded to on the day that Reese agreed to work with him, things bad enough to contaminate the last home-like place that he had known for some time. But at least he has this place, this strange mansion, in which to find shelter, in the event that these dreams prove to be more than real. He can only home these images are just that, images, with no substance from his world.
Title ganked from -- yep! -- The Matrix. Not a canon update, just our boy having strange dreams. Open to anyone who might be up and about at this late hour, though folks are free to find him during the day, likely in the library. Cleaning his firearms. Sadly, no Finch here to scold him for it, but people can do the honors.