anthorn
Well-Known Member
I have written a dream sequence and I am looking for opinions. Is it considered info dumpy? It is a continuation of a previous dream at the beginning of the book that has left Nikita with a feeling of impending doom.
Dreaming seemed pointless, yet here she was.
She opened her eyes to a familiar sight, her room. Nikita glanced around and everything seemed so slow and sluggish. She looked down at her hands, saw them free of calluses and abrasions, and knew herself to be five again. Nikita however did not feel that young.
Nikita stood and made her way to the mirror, she didn’t know why but it appeared to be the right thing to do. There was no reflection in the mirror, not of her and not of anything. She touched the mirror and nothing happened so she made her way to the window. There was nothing out there either, not even darkness. “What does this mean?” she asked herself.
“It’s your subconscious, so you tell me.”
“Do I know you?” she asked the child that had appeared beside her. Nikita guessed her to be either nine or ten summers.
“Not yet.” the child said running fingers through blond hair.
“But I will meet you soon?”
“Maybe, who knows? Maybe we have met already.”
“This is the second time I have dreamed of my home.” Nikita said pressing her head against the window. “I used to dream of a tower; it chased me across a wasteland.”
“Is that so?” the child said interested.
“What is happening to me?”
“What do you think is happening?”
“I think I am going mad.”
“You’re not going mad Nikita. Someone going mad doesn’t think they’re going crazy, they think they’re getting saner.”
Nikita laughed. “I’m beginning to think you are older than you look.”
The child shrugged. “Give or take a few thousand years.”
Nikita considered this and turned back to the child. “So I must be here for a reason then, here with you I mean.” The room around them shook like a ripple through a lake. It began to spin, slowly, then settled back as it once was. “What does this mean?” she repeated.
“You are unconscious, you, and your sister.” the child said. “As we speak a war is beginning in Damorkine, the Guardians have returned. It is a suicidal mission as they have few men against Mordrena’s many.”
“If…if I am unconscious, how can I be here, how can I be aware?” she asked the child. There was a pregnant pause as she waited for the child to answer her questions; the room shivered around them and a burning tower appeared on the horizon.
“You are here because you are special Nikita, you all are. Everyone dreams Nikita, everyone dreams sometimes, it just happens you can remember them, for you they are vivid. Because of the manipulations you see the tower and will do until you die. Terin sees the tower and so do Anthorn and Sarana. You remember because you are connected to Anthorn in ways you can’t possibly imagine. Come.” She extended her hand and Nikita took it, let herself be led back to the mirror. “What do you see?”
“Myself.” Nikita said.
“Look closer.”
Nikita did so and leaned forward, it was her reflection with only a few differences. Around the temples there was a coppery gold tint to her ebony skin, her carmine eyes was tinted with orange. “I am an End-Lord,” she whispered.
“No, you are pregnant.”
Nikita rounded on the child sharply. “Pregnant?” she cried, her voice horse and throat painfully dry.
The child nodded. “Yes, you are. It will be a while before the others notice.”
“Why tell me this?”
“Because there is a storm coming Nikita, a war and we all must fight. Good men will go to war,” she said sadly. “Have you chosen a side?”
Nikita was shaking, I’m pregnant. She couldn’t believe it. This was a dream it had to be a dream. “I choose Anthorn,” she whispered.
“Good.” The child took her hand again. “When the time comes Nikita you will be asked to make a sacrifice. Anthorn is already going to make his.”
“W-what?” She was barely listening now.
“I’m sorry but you are both going to die.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because when you wake up you will not remember this dream.”
Dreaming seemed pointless, yet here she was.
She opened her eyes to a familiar sight, her room. Nikita glanced around and everything seemed so slow and sluggish. She looked down at her hands, saw them free of calluses and abrasions, and knew herself to be five again. Nikita however did not feel that young.
Nikita stood and made her way to the mirror, she didn’t know why but it appeared to be the right thing to do. There was no reflection in the mirror, not of her and not of anything. She touched the mirror and nothing happened so she made her way to the window. There was nothing out there either, not even darkness. “What does this mean?” she asked herself.
“It’s your subconscious, so you tell me.”
“Do I know you?” she asked the child that had appeared beside her. Nikita guessed her to be either nine or ten summers.
“Not yet.” the child said running fingers through blond hair.
“But I will meet you soon?”
“Maybe, who knows? Maybe we have met already.”
“This is the second time I have dreamed of my home.” Nikita said pressing her head against the window. “I used to dream of a tower; it chased me across a wasteland.”
“Is that so?” the child said interested.
“What is happening to me?”
“What do you think is happening?”
“I think I am going mad.”
“You’re not going mad Nikita. Someone going mad doesn’t think they’re going crazy, they think they’re getting saner.”
Nikita laughed. “I’m beginning to think you are older than you look.”
The child shrugged. “Give or take a few thousand years.”
Nikita considered this and turned back to the child. “So I must be here for a reason then, here with you I mean.” The room around them shook like a ripple through a lake. It began to spin, slowly, then settled back as it once was. “What does this mean?” she repeated.
“You are unconscious, you, and your sister.” the child said. “As we speak a war is beginning in Damorkine, the Guardians have returned. It is a suicidal mission as they have few men against Mordrena’s many.”
“If…if I am unconscious, how can I be here, how can I be aware?” she asked the child. There was a pregnant pause as she waited for the child to answer her questions; the room shivered around them and a burning tower appeared on the horizon.
“You are here because you are special Nikita, you all are. Everyone dreams Nikita, everyone dreams sometimes, it just happens you can remember them, for you they are vivid. Because of the manipulations you see the tower and will do until you die. Terin sees the tower and so do Anthorn and Sarana. You remember because you are connected to Anthorn in ways you can’t possibly imagine. Come.” She extended her hand and Nikita took it, let herself be led back to the mirror. “What do you see?”
“Myself.” Nikita said.
“Look closer.”
Nikita did so and leaned forward, it was her reflection with only a few differences. Around the temples there was a coppery gold tint to her ebony skin, her carmine eyes was tinted with orange. “I am an End-Lord,” she whispered.
“No, you are pregnant.”
Nikita rounded on the child sharply. “Pregnant?” she cried, her voice horse and throat painfully dry.
The child nodded. “Yes, you are. It will be a while before the others notice.”
“Why tell me this?”
“Because there is a storm coming Nikita, a war and we all must fight. Good men will go to war,” she said sadly. “Have you chosen a side?”
Nikita was shaking, I’m pregnant. She couldn’t believe it. This was a dream it had to be a dream. “I choose Anthorn,” she whispered.
“Good.” The child took her hand again. “When the time comes Nikita you will be asked to make a sacrifice. Anthorn is already going to make his.”
“W-what?” She was barely listening now.
“I’m sorry but you are both going to die.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because when you wake up you will not remember this dream.”