Room 502/4/6, Saturday night
Her conversation with Aziraphale after their possession and meditation experiment was starting to weigh on Nadia's mind. The sleepover had provided her with a nice distraction for awhile, but she'd spent most of the day wondering about that green-lit room that Aziraphale had seen, and worrying over the fact that someone might be blocking or messing with her dreams.
So, despite the fact that she'd told Aziraphale she'd have someone with her if she tried to meditate again, she sat herself down crosslegged on a bed in room 502/4/6 (which she supposed she ought to start referring to as her bed in room 502/4/6), lit a small tea light candle on the nightstand, and settled herself in for a good meditate.
She had no plans to revisit the dreams, this time, so she figured she'd be safe.
It was becoming easier to clear her mind, and soon enough she had a fairly solid mental image of the corridor of doors that she thought of as her mind-landscape. She recognized the door that held the dreams immediately, and after a moment's hesitation, by passed it and turned to look down on end of the corridor.
This end was shorter, leading to a large, ornate door that she figured would lead her back out into a more normal state of mind. There was no green glow, so she turned around and peered into the longer, darker part of the hallway.
The doors toward that end were simpler. Some of them were painted in bright colors, some had little paper signs or brass numbers on them.
Waaaaaaaayyyyyyy down the hall, into the darkness, she could make out a faint green glow.
She started toward it.
The hallway was extraordinarily long, and Nadia felt as though she walked for hours, the doors filing slowly past. As she progressed, the doors lost their painted, paper, or brass ornamentation, becoming simple constructions of slatted wood. Some had holes in them. The green glow grew slightly stronger, but it still seemed to be a long way off, so while she was tempted to try to look through those holes and see what thoughts might be locked away on the other side, she continued.
She began to notice a sound in the pervading silence of the mental hallway: a clear, almost musical patpat of water dripping onto metal. She kept walking.
The floor, which had a single, plain red runner down the center, started to get damp.
She kept walking.
Soon, she was splashing. The doors were no longer wooden. Some were huge, metal things, some were frosted glass. Some had enormous padlocks and others seemed to be cracked slightly open. The water, she noticed in the light that automatically followed where she walked, had thin flows of water down them in spots, as though something were leaking through the ceiling.
The green glow was still well ahead. She kept walking.
The runner began to dip down, below the level of the floor, and the water gathered here, until she was walking in an ankle deep creek of sorts in the middle of the hallway. The doors now more resembled expressionist ideas of doors, dreams of doors glimpsed out of the corner of one's eye, portals that barely represented doors at all. The walls had dark streaks where the water ran down them, and had taken on the texture of tree bark.
She kept walking.
Finally, the green light seemed to be growing closer, growing brighter, though it was still faint. She saw that it was roughly rectangular, like light seeping through the crack between door and door frame. It was straight ahead.
The walls seemed to undulate around her, rippling and flexing until they made her dizzy to look at, and the runner sank lower so that she was sloshing through water that rose nearly to her knees. She focused straight ahead on that green light instead, trying not to think about what these things might mean about her, about her mind.
And, at last, she reached the end of the hallway. Like the other end, this one stopped at a door. Unlike the other door, though, this one was simple in its grandness, an enormous door that towered over her, but didn't have the gilt or crenelations of the door back to reality. This one seemed cut of a piece of granite, impossibly smooth to the eye. There was no label, no door frame, no handle or visible hinges.
She stood there and simply looked at the thing for a long time. The green light seemed to be leaking in through impossibly thin cracks, brighter in tiny flashes, then so dim it seemed to go out completely for minutes at a time.
It would be cool, she thought, to the touch. And it couldn't possibly be moved. It was much to heavy. She reached out to place her palm in its center.
It was warm. It seemed to pulse. And as her skin made contact, it was as though an electric current ran through her for an instant and all she could see was a blinding green light. She jerked her hand back almost immediately, but the light surrounded her, getting brighter and brighter until she thought it might burn her away completely and she screamed a scream that the Doctor might be proud of, deep and primal and piercing and loud and it echoed down the entire length of the corridor and as it faded out, the light snapped off, leaving Nadia in absolute darkness.
Outwardly, it looked only as though Nadia sat still and quiet, doing nothing but looking at the flame of a candle. Furrball climbed up on her lap, curled himself up, and fell asleep.
Then, after several minutes, her head snapped back, her eyes rolled up, and she seemed to almost vibrate, inhaling loudly. Then she slumped, falling back onto the bed, her eyes closed.
Furrball awoke, mewed at her once, poked at her hand with one paw, then climbed up onto her chest, stuck one paw on her chin, and fell back asleep.
Nadia started to snore.
[ooc: mostly establishy, but the roommates are more than welcome to react to Nadia's odd behavior. Or, yes, draw on her while she sleeps. So long as she can wash it off tomorrow morning.]
So, despite the fact that she'd told Aziraphale she'd have someone with her if she tried to meditate again, she sat herself down crosslegged on a bed in room 502/4/6 (which she supposed she ought to start referring to as her bed in room 502/4/6), lit a small tea light candle on the nightstand, and settled herself in for a good meditate.
She had no plans to revisit the dreams, this time, so she figured she'd be safe.
It was becoming easier to clear her mind, and soon enough she had a fairly solid mental image of the corridor of doors that she thought of as her mind-landscape. She recognized the door that held the dreams immediately, and after a moment's hesitation, by passed it and turned to look down on end of the corridor.
This end was shorter, leading to a large, ornate door that she figured would lead her back out into a more normal state of mind. There was no green glow, so she turned around and peered into the longer, darker part of the hallway.
The doors toward that end were simpler. Some of them were painted in bright colors, some had little paper signs or brass numbers on them.
Waaaaaaaayyyyyyy down the hall, into the darkness, she could make out a faint green glow.
She started toward it.
The hallway was extraordinarily long, and Nadia felt as though she walked for hours, the doors filing slowly past. As she progressed, the doors lost their painted, paper, or brass ornamentation, becoming simple constructions of slatted wood. Some had holes in them. The green glow grew slightly stronger, but it still seemed to be a long way off, so while she was tempted to try to look through those holes and see what thoughts might be locked away on the other side, she continued.
She began to notice a sound in the pervading silence of the mental hallway: a clear, almost musical patpat of water dripping onto metal. She kept walking.
The floor, which had a single, plain red runner down the center, started to get damp.
She kept walking.
Soon, she was splashing. The doors were no longer wooden. Some were huge, metal things, some were frosted glass. Some had enormous padlocks and others seemed to be cracked slightly open. The water, she noticed in the light that automatically followed where she walked, had thin flows of water down them in spots, as though something were leaking through the ceiling.
The green glow was still well ahead. She kept walking.
The runner began to dip down, below the level of the floor, and the water gathered here, until she was walking in an ankle deep creek of sorts in the middle of the hallway. The doors now more resembled expressionist ideas of doors, dreams of doors glimpsed out of the corner of one's eye, portals that barely represented doors at all. The walls had dark streaks where the water ran down them, and had taken on the texture of tree bark.
She kept walking.
Finally, the green light seemed to be growing closer, growing brighter, though it was still faint. She saw that it was roughly rectangular, like light seeping through the crack between door and door frame. It was straight ahead.
The walls seemed to undulate around her, rippling and flexing until they made her dizzy to look at, and the runner sank lower so that she was sloshing through water that rose nearly to her knees. She focused straight ahead on that green light instead, trying not to think about what these things might mean about her, about her mind.
And, at last, she reached the end of the hallway. Like the other end, this one stopped at a door. Unlike the other door, though, this one was simple in its grandness, an enormous door that towered over her, but didn't have the gilt or crenelations of the door back to reality. This one seemed cut of a piece of granite, impossibly smooth to the eye. There was no label, no door frame, no handle or visible hinges.
She stood there and simply looked at the thing for a long time. The green light seemed to be leaking in through impossibly thin cracks, brighter in tiny flashes, then so dim it seemed to go out completely for minutes at a time.
It would be cool, she thought, to the touch. And it couldn't possibly be moved. It was much to heavy. She reached out to place her palm in its center.
It was warm. It seemed to pulse. And as her skin made contact, it was as though an electric current ran through her for an instant and all she could see was a blinding green light. She jerked her hand back almost immediately, but the light surrounded her, getting brighter and brighter until she thought it might burn her away completely and she screamed a scream that the Doctor might be proud of, deep and primal and piercing and loud and it echoed down the entire length of the corridor and as it faded out, the light snapped off, leaving Nadia in absolute darkness.
Outwardly, it looked only as though Nadia sat still and quiet, doing nothing but looking at the flame of a candle. Furrball climbed up on her lap, curled himself up, and fell asleep.
Then, after several minutes, her head snapped back, her eyes rolled up, and she seemed to almost vibrate, inhaling loudly. Then she slumped, falling back onto the bed, her eyes closed.
Furrball awoke, mewed at her once, poked at her hand with one paw, then climbed up onto her chest, stuck one paw on her chin, and fell back asleep.
Nadia started to snore.
[ooc: mostly establishy, but the roommates are more than welcome to react to Nadia's odd behavior. Or, yes, draw on her while she sleeps. So long as she can wash it off tomorrow morning.]