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[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

[Alex Drake is lounging in a lawn chair. It's an average, beat up sort of chair, the kind you would see around public places or, in this specific case, one that originally had residence in a hospital courtyard.

She's enamored with a hefty book in her hands. Knowing Alex, one might suspect it would be rather tedious psychology textbook or perhaps even a disturbingly in-depth police handbook; but closer examination will show that it is, in fact, a directory of dream symbolism. Every once in a while, she scribbles a note in a margin before flipping to a new page. This could, no doubt, go on for hours.

At one point, she glances up around her, a look of surprise on her face followed too quickly by obvious disappointment, and then she's back to her book, and her scribbles, and her constant quest to make sense of nonsense.

Have at her, constructs.]

Comments

[hideous-soul.livejournal.com]

{Curiously,} Have your dreams been leading you in circles, Miss?

[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

[She glances up at him, but only briefly.] Not my dreams so much as my reality.

[hideous-soul.livejournal.com]

Then I would recommend a different book. Those for deciphering dreams rarely help with reality.

[madamemoiselle.livejournal.com]

Ah, you're still here after all? I thought that you might have left.

[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

[She pauses in her reading again, this time offering him more of her attention.] Well, yes. Until dreams become reality. Then it's a bit harder to differentiate.

[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

I thought I did leave. It looks as if this place just sneaks up out of nowhere sometimes.

[hideous-soul.livejournal.com]

If that were the case, then I believe the suggestion to make would be to stop taking...Ah, whatever leads you to believe that. The complications of other times makes this hard to recommend. But from your dress alone, it seems easy to assume that you are not from a time where casual use of opium on occasion is common.

[madamemoiselle.livejournal.com]

I wouldn't say that much. It's more like we're drawn to it.

[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

Opi- What? [She pauses a moment, and then laughs and shakes her head.] It's nothing like that. Well, not entirely. More like a bullet through my brain, but that can't exactly be helped, can it?

[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

It seems as if I'm drawn everywhere except where I actually want to be these days.

[galeforcehero.livejournal.com]

[A young lady carrying a yellow rose around peers over Alex's shoulder, not touching her, but not exactly respecting her personal space, either. Her eyes are red, as if she's been crying.]

Dreams, huh?

[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

[Alex shifts in the chair, glancing up at the rose and then the girl. The flower makes Alex a little uncomfortable (thank God it's not red) but the other woman's eyes leave Alex offering her a compassionate look.]

It's actually quite amazing what our subconscious can tell us about ourselves through dreams.

[hideous-soul.livejournal.com]

{Raises an eyebrow} I...see. Perhaps if that is the case, opium would be helpful rather than harmful.

[madamemoiselle.livejournal.com]

And where you want to be is...2008, didn't you say?

[galeforcehero.livejournal.com]

Oh, believe me, you're preachin' to the choir. Had a weird one lately? That's usually when most people whip those things out.

[she gestures vaguely at Alex's book with her flower-hand.]

[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

[She's laughing again, and finding far too much humor in all this.] This is precisely why I have this book. Why on earth would a facet of my subconscious suggest to me that I try a narcotic? But, I don't think it covers that.

[She sets the book down.] Which time period do you hail from, if I may ask?

[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

That's right. I was there, a minute ago anyway. I don't know if this seemingly free travel back and forth is comforting or annoying.

[madamemoiselle.livejournal.com]

Oh, so you can go back and forth between your two homes? Poor Sam never got that chance. Lucky you.

[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

[Alex holds up the book] Oh, this is more for trying to understand what's going on here, right now. I want to know what it is about my mind that would conjure up such a unique hallucination.

[hideous-soul.livejournal.com]

Madam, I am hardly a part of your subconscious, I assure you. You seem to be quite confused, I must say.

[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

[That embarrasses her a little.] Fine, whatever. Maybe you're aren't part of my subconscious. So what is this place, then? Some kind of mass hallucination? A playground for the collective unconscious? Or is this actually real?

[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

Homes? No, nothing like that, I mean just between here and there.

[She actually looks a little sad. Like maybe she wishes she could.] I don't have the luxury of going back to 1982. Not that I'd want to, mind. Sam made his choice and I've made mine. I can't go back.

[madamemoiselle.livejournal.com]

Oh? And what about the people you left behind? It's too bad for them, I guess. Still, I guess you can't expect much from a replacement, I suppose.

[hideous-soul.livejournal.com]

As impossible as it may seem, all we can assume that it is, indeed, real. If it were a mass hallucination, you would be sharing it with a gentleman from 1884.

[poshmouthytart.livejournal.com]

It wouldn't be the first time I've suddenly appeared in a time and place that wasn't my own, you know. Although, at this point, I guess I'd better start getting used to it.

I'm from 2008. Or maybe 1982. Take your pick.