Unsettled
The nightmares alternated, and they didn't come every night. Nora went to sleep unsure of whether she would dream of the explosions shaking Engineering, of the warp core ejecting into the center of the black hole she could swear she felt pulling at the floor under her feet - or of pieces of ships and charred bones floating in the blackness that was Vulcan, her own among them. It had been so close. She could have been on the Antares, or the Armstrong, or the Hood, or on any other ship whose entire crew was now dead.
She couldn't turn to her parents for comfort, even. They didn't understand. On leave with them after the battle, she'd scared them out of their wits by waking them up in the middle of the night with screams. Mom had tried, at least; she'd sat down, fed her some of the standard grief counseling fare, but it was so different when you were mourning an entire planet and most of an academy. Especially when some of that planet's heritage was yours.
It was that destruction dream that finally made her decide to seek outside help - so much was going on, post-event, that she didn't know how to deal with it all. There had to be someone at the Academy clinic who'd been trained in something like this, even if it was only last-minute training. The door slid open when she keyed in her student ID number, and it was a jolt to only see one or two other people in the waiting room when it was usually at least half-full of injured people.
"Is there someone I could talk to about emotional issues?" she asked the receptionist, then electronically signed in and took a seat in the waiting area where he indicated. Someone would see her soon.
She couldn't turn to her parents for comfort, even. They didn't understand. On leave with them after the battle, she'd scared them out of their wits by waking them up in the middle of the night with screams. Mom had tried, at least; she'd sat down, fed her some of the standard grief counseling fare, but it was so different when you were mourning an entire planet and most of an academy. Especially when some of that planet's heritage was yours.
It was that destruction dream that finally made her decide to seek outside help - so much was going on, post-event, that she didn't know how to deal with it all. There had to be someone at the Academy clinic who'd been trained in something like this, even if it was only last-minute training. The door slid open when she keyed in her student ID number, and it was a jolt to only see one or two other people in the waiting room when it was usually at least half-full of injured people.
"Is there someone I could talk to about emotional issues?" she asked the receptionist, then electronically signed in and took a seat in the waiting area where he indicated. Someone would see her soon.