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31_days2009-07-01 10:30 am
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2009-07-01 10:30 am
[July 1][Original] Sleeping Dreams/Waking Dreams
Title: Sleeping Dreams/Waking Dreams
Day/Theme: July 1, 2009 "a dream is nothing but a ghost"
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Bashir "Shirka" and "Ofika"
Rating: PG
"I dreamed my mother died," he whispered. That it was only a dream did not make it any less unsettling. Dreams were supposed to have meanings. He'd heard that lots of times, from Saselia and Jenya and even Urbahn, who seemed like a fairly rational type, being a scriptural scholar and all, so he wasn't about to dismiss the idea outright. Especially not when it gave him this sort of strange feeling. A dream like that- it had to mean something.
"Mama Sola is back at home, fine and dandy, well as ever," Ofika answered him. "She put these beads in my hair, see?" she leaned down over Bashir, who was sitting slumped over on the ground, and her long, shining hair slid down to hang over him in a mess of beaded braids and loose locks, like a curtain of flowers.
The thick red tie at the end of one braid slapped him in the face, just above the eye, and he batted it away, only for it to come swinging back to tap him again. All the glass and paper beads made her thick hair heavy. There had been some talk of them being married once, but after Ofika's brush with death after contracting Redmarsh Fever and her subsequent health issues, that line of thought had been dropped. Bashir had been relieved. Somehow he didn't think he could handle the pressure and scrutiny of being the younger emperor's son-in-law, even if he would never be expected to rule. ...And ever since her illness, Ofika had become...strange. He wasn't sure how to put it. He wouldn't want to speak impolitely of her. He did like her. She was probably the nicest member of the younger emperor's court, as well as one of the nicest members of the massive extended royal family of Silesia, which was ironic as she was no longer officially recognized as one of them due to her father's shame concerning her delicate mental state.
"Do you ever have dreams that really bother you, Ofika?" Sometimes he wondered what her mind was like. If the things she said were any indication, she didn't think like other people.
She straightened up, taking her hair out of his face, and thought for a moment before delivering her reply. "No, not really. Not my sleeping dreams, anyway. They're like mist. Or ghosts. They just blow out with the wind and fade when the sun comes through my window. My waking dreams are the scary ones."
He wasn't sure he really understood what she was talking about, but he also wasn't sure he actually wanted to ask. "...You mean daydreams?" he ventured although he didn't feel optimistic about this suggestion.
"The talking daydreams. That's right, Shirka," she smiled.
He hadn't expected that response. This was where he'd draw the line. There was no way he could manage to successfully follow this train of strange thinking any further. Quit while you're ahead, he thought the expression was. He nodded and smiled back at her, allowing the moment to pass. The dream no longer troubled him.
Day/Theme: July 1, 2009 "a dream is nothing but a ghost"
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Bashir "Shirka" and "Ofika"
Rating: PG
"I dreamed my mother died," he whispered. That it was only a dream did not make it any less unsettling. Dreams were supposed to have meanings. He'd heard that lots of times, from Saselia and Jenya and even Urbahn, who seemed like a fairly rational type, being a scriptural scholar and all, so he wasn't about to dismiss the idea outright. Especially not when it gave him this sort of strange feeling. A dream like that- it had to mean something.
"Mama Sola is back at home, fine and dandy, well as ever," Ofika answered him. "She put these beads in my hair, see?" she leaned down over Bashir, who was sitting slumped over on the ground, and her long, shining hair slid down to hang over him in a mess of beaded braids and loose locks, like a curtain of flowers.
The thick red tie at the end of one braid slapped him in the face, just above the eye, and he batted it away, only for it to come swinging back to tap him again. All the glass and paper beads made her thick hair heavy. There had been some talk of them being married once, but after Ofika's brush with death after contracting Redmarsh Fever and her subsequent health issues, that line of thought had been dropped. Bashir had been relieved. Somehow he didn't think he could handle the pressure and scrutiny of being the younger emperor's son-in-law, even if he would never be expected to rule. ...And ever since her illness, Ofika had become...strange. He wasn't sure how to put it. He wouldn't want to speak impolitely of her. He did like her. She was probably the nicest member of the younger emperor's court, as well as one of the nicest members of the massive extended royal family of Silesia, which was ironic as she was no longer officially recognized as one of them due to her father's shame concerning her delicate mental state.
"Do you ever have dreams that really bother you, Ofika?" Sometimes he wondered what her mind was like. If the things she said were any indication, she didn't think like other people.
She straightened up, taking her hair out of his face, and thought for a moment before delivering her reply. "No, not really. Not my sleeping dreams, anyway. They're like mist. Or ghosts. They just blow out with the wind and fade when the sun comes through my window. My waking dreams are the scary ones."
He wasn't sure he really understood what she was talking about, but he also wasn't sure he actually wanted to ask. "...You mean daydreams?" he ventured although he didn't feel optimistic about this suggestion.
"The talking daydreams. That's right, Shirka," she smiled.
He hadn't expected that response. This was where he'd draw the line. There was no way he could manage to successfully follow this train of strange thinking any further. Quit while you're ahead, he thought the expression was. He nodded and smiled back at her, allowing the moment to pass. The dream no longer troubled him.