OOC: Dream 3
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Impact. A fist hitting his face. The sun blazed down, hot on his back and he scrambled to his feet.
“Too slow-“ The voice was male, mocking, taller than him. He lifted his head and got an impression of red-
Impact. The noise of the ocean and the crunch of sand beneath him. He looked up at a man in purple, purple hair, yelling, calling him unfit-
Impact. Sending him sprawling. He could hear water running nearby, cool shade. The words this time were muffled but when he looked up he saw green, a flight suit, someone standing over him with a gun, but he wasn’t afraid-
Impact. He was laying on cold metal, the sound of machines around him, soft, background whirring.
“You could have handled that better.” A voice commented, not the same, but the same, as the one before. He looked up at a man in a green flight suit who looked down at him right a sardonic expression. “Why not tell him you’d fight for him?”
“I couldn’t.” He replied, trying to stand.
Impact. Over and over. The man was yelling at him now, holding on and screaming. Hating him. Despairing. He could do nothing.
There was a song, a woman’s voice…
He stood in the desert, the wind whipping across his face, sand stinging at his exposed skin. A flower was in front of him, beautiful, being torn apart by the winds. He reached forward to touch it, and found himself holding a woman’s hand. She looked at him and smiled.
“Can we understand each other?” She asked, and he knew she was the singer. Her presence was relaxing, and the winds died down to gentle breezes.
“Yes.” He said, and she touched his cheek.
“Change.” The man said, standing with him in the dark desert. “The past cannot be changed.” He had an eye patch and he made the dreamer’s heart ache.
“I’ll change.” The dreamer promised. “I’ll fight for the future. I’ll change. I’m not a weapon, I won’t be a destroyer.”
“You’ve already changed.” It was the purple haired man, and they were naked in a field of light. The earth was floating below them, beautiful, peaceful looking, When the dreamer turned to look at the other man, he was confronted with a giant machine.
“Gundam.” His heart and head and soul told him. Told him this was important.
“They need you.” The purple haired man was next to him, and the dreamer turned to look at him. But when he did he couldn’t contain his horror-the man was dead, blood running over him, his face shot, grisly.
“They need you.” The dead man said, and turned the dreamer’s head to others-A man with one yellow eye and a sad expression looking towards a white haired woman, a man his own age holding a blond woman, a pink haired girl holding a flower, a woman with wild hair and a determined expression. The man from before-he kept changing, with an eye patch, without, or maybe he was two men-a scarred man, a girl in pigtails…
“How are you feeling?” The voice was the woman again, the singer, the desert woman. He sat up, light streaming into the room as she settled on the bed next to him and placed a hand on his forehead. “Were you dreaming of the desert again? You’re pale.”
He looked outside the window, there was a forest there, below them. Beautiful.
“There was…” He couldn’t describe the jumbled images, couldn’t, the mixed rollercoaster of emotions for things he didn’t understand. “Space. And light. And violence. And Gundam.” He remembered that, at least. “And change. I have to change.” He started to rise, a voice stopped him and he looked down, but the woman was a man now, with short green hair and a horrible smirk.
“You are Gundam.” He laughed, mocking, eyes glowing. “You should be grateful.”
“Who are you?” He demanded of the mocking man, but knew the answer.
“I am god.”
“There is no god.”
His shoulder ached. Somehow he held a gun at the man, but when he pulled the trigger the other turned into a bird, flying, flying infinitely away-or maybe the dreamer himself was falling. Yes, he was falling and above him were the stars.
But it was alright, he had changed. There was just one thing left to do-if only he could remember what it was.
“Change for the future.” The man’s voice echoed in his head as he closed his eyes.
“I already have.” The dreamer promised.
Impact. A fist hitting his face. The sun blazed down, hot on his back and he scrambled to his feet.
“Too slow-“ The voice was male, mocking, taller than him. He lifted his head and got an impression of red-
Impact. The noise of the ocean and the crunch of sand beneath him. He looked up at a man in purple, purple hair, yelling, calling him unfit-
Impact. Sending him sprawling. He could hear water running nearby, cool shade. The words this time were muffled but when he looked up he saw green, a flight suit, someone standing over him with a gun, but he wasn’t afraid-
Impact. He was laying on cold metal, the sound of machines around him, soft, background whirring.
“You could have handled that better.” A voice commented, not the same, but the same, as the one before. He looked up at a man in a green flight suit who looked down at him right a sardonic expression. “Why not tell him you’d fight for him?”
“I couldn’t.” He replied, trying to stand.
Impact. Over and over. The man was yelling at him now, holding on and screaming. Hating him. Despairing. He could do nothing.
There was a song, a woman’s voice…
He stood in the desert, the wind whipping across his face, sand stinging at his exposed skin. A flower was in front of him, beautiful, being torn apart by the winds. He reached forward to touch it, and found himself holding a woman’s hand. She looked at him and smiled.
“Can we understand each other?” She asked, and he knew she was the singer. Her presence was relaxing, and the winds died down to gentle breezes.
“Yes.” He said, and she touched his cheek.
“Change.” The man said, standing with him in the dark desert. “The past cannot be changed.” He had an eye patch and he made the dreamer’s heart ache.
“I’ll change.” The dreamer promised. “I’ll fight for the future. I’ll change. I’m not a weapon, I won’t be a destroyer.”
“You’ve already changed.” It was the purple haired man, and they were naked in a field of light. The earth was floating below them, beautiful, peaceful looking, When the dreamer turned to look at the other man, he was confronted with a giant machine.
“Gundam.” His heart and head and soul told him. Told him this was important.
“They need you.” The purple haired man was next to him, and the dreamer turned to look at him. But when he did he couldn’t contain his horror-the man was dead, blood running over him, his face shot, grisly.
“They need you.” The dead man said, and turned the dreamer’s head to others-A man with one yellow eye and a sad expression looking towards a white haired woman, a man his own age holding a blond woman, a pink haired girl holding a flower, a woman with wild hair and a determined expression. The man from before-he kept changing, with an eye patch, without, or maybe he was two men-a scarred man, a girl in pigtails…
“How are you feeling?” The voice was the woman again, the singer, the desert woman. He sat up, light streaming into the room as she settled on the bed next to him and placed a hand on his forehead. “Were you dreaming of the desert again? You’re pale.”
He looked outside the window, there was a forest there, below them. Beautiful.
“There was…” He couldn’t describe the jumbled images, couldn’t, the mixed rollercoaster of emotions for things he didn’t understand. “Space. And light. And violence. And Gundam.” He remembered that, at least. “And change. I have to change.” He started to rise, a voice stopped him and he looked down, but the woman was a man now, with short green hair and a horrible smirk.
“You are Gundam.” He laughed, mocking, eyes glowing. “You should be grateful.”
“Who are you?” He demanded of the mocking man, but knew the answer.
“I am god.”
“There is no god.”
His shoulder ached. Somehow he held a gun at the man, but when he pulled the trigger the other turned into a bird, flying, flying infinitely away-or maybe the dreamer himself was falling. Yes, he was falling and above him were the stars.
But it was alright, he had changed. There was just one thing left to do-if only he could remember what it was.
“Change for the future.” The man’s voice echoed in his head as he closed his eyes.
“I already have.” The dreamer promised.