I remember telling you that dream, while we were walking, I saw your eyes grow large, the goosebumps on your skin, you suddenly shuddered. I had told you about her, didn't I? You couldn't understand properly if I hadn't told you about her. She. Mine. Mine and Mine only. From the beginning to the very bloody end. The cheering comfort she gave me while she lingered and then left. Why is it that the ones we hurt so badly that spend solace on us? While the ones that hurt us just drop us with our dead dreams.
In my dream, I saw her... again. She was small, tiny, her face beautifully carved (mine MINE). She came running on her tiny feet, held up her tiny hands and said: "I'm scared. There is something. I don't know what it is, but it's there! There is something!" I froze. "But he's gone!" I said. "The Doctor's gone! How can that be?"
I took her in my arms (oh, her bones were so delicate, she hardly weighed a thing) and hurriedly, we left.
Oh, and that's where my tongue, where my fingers refuse to give me the words I crave. I remember beauty, sad and proud, broken and mended, used and worn, full of memory and life slowly fading.
(My... head? starts to ache. I can feel the pulse. I can feel it.)
And then... gone. She was gone. No, I was gone. Because I remember, it was only when I got back and found her again that I noticed she had been gone. I ran through dark woods, I saw dead ghosts, I ran, I ran, I never got tired. Old cities, empty, except for the people there, and beauty, heartbreaking, mindbending, breathtaking beauty. Broken windows, open doors, Dust, Dust everywhere. We hurried - how had I become Us? - through that hall that lead to where I suddenly remembered her.
Quietly She was sitting there, playing, between majestic chairs, in front of the crackling fire, so small, so tiny, oblivious. Child! I spoke, are they still here, are they still here?
(Goose bumps, small tear in large eyes, a sudden shiver. It was a Dream, only a Dream. I am not alone no never alone never alone)
Dreamily, she turned around. "Why, yes, of course they are. Right there", she pointed, "But don't worry. They won't do anything to you. You see, the only reason we were so afraid was, that we didn't know who they were." I had frozen with her first words. I was unable to move, to think, to act. "Here you go", she said, her voice calm and steady as it always had been, "take this". And she gave me a small lamp. I made the effort to take the lamp, eyes avoiding the place she had pointed at, my hand trembling. "You need to look", she insisted, "what use is the light if you don't look?" And suddenly I felt so ashamed that she, she above all, could stay so peaceful while I was consumed by fear.
The light it gave off was a pale blue. I raised the lamp, following the line with my gaze. And there I saw him. A large candle, as big as a small child, old, ancient, patiently burning, and his two brothers, too. And I knew who they were. They needed no swords, no wings: I knew wh they were, red flame flickering in the pale blue light of the lamp She had given me.
I haven't woken up since. No, I haven't woken up. But it all makes sense now.
