Memoir of the Messenger (trash of count family fanfic)

Extra: Jour

Jour had dreams.

Some that are related to her and some are not. But she knew hers was different, because unlike any other, she couldn't forget.

It etched into her mind like ink sprawled in paper, memories of yesterday that plague her present mind.

However she didn't know her dreams were far more different, a gift what may some even call.

Only if they knew the fear of the unknown is far more inferior of knowing the untold without the capability of doing anything. To live with the burden of a knowledge of someone's future, passing, demise.

The first time she learned about it, she read it on a newspaper, but passed it as a mere coincidence as she tries to ignore the swell of nausea along with the rapidly growing sense of dread.

Nothing prepared her for second time, it happened in front of her. It was on her friend's death bed.

The scene before her were so akinly similar with her dream. From the shaking frames of the other's loved ones as their face breaks, bursting into painful, hiccupping cries, and all to the way how her friend's head lulled to the side as she took her last breath.

The only difference this time is that Jour couldn't wake up from it and pretend all those were all merely nothing but a dream.

It was also the time when she came into realization—no, when she became sure of it. Those were not only dreams but visions, events of the future.

And now her live seemed to be tinged with a fair bit of haziness, as if she were stumbling along the line between waking and sleep as a result of the dreams' apparent reality-erasing influence.

Oh how she detest it.

However, one night, Jour began dreaming of something entirely different, a child, bearing the same hue of her hair and her features.

Soft laughter rang in her ears, the sorrow and restlessness that had built up over the past vanished in an instant, as though it had been washed away by a sea of uncontrolled ecstasy.

She was overcome with so much euphoria from head to toe, she didn't want to be waken up from her slumber.

She have never met the child and yet she felt like she already couldn't imagine a life without him.

For the first time in many years, she opened her eyes with a smile occupying her lips, still feeling the fleeting warmth in her arms.

But it didn't end there, it wasn't long, when she dreamt of a man.

The lines around his eyes are losing some of their depth as he laughs mearily with another, speaking animatedly with a woman, she could only presume his friend or maybe even relative as the two share the same tanned skin and even quite similar brown hair, only the other's appears to be a tad bit darker.

Her heart rattled against her rib cage the whole day, but it felt as though her heart had forgotten how to beat at the same time.

It wasn't that surprising to say when she soon found herself indulge in a fantasy, that hopefuly one day she could meet him, get a glimpse of the man, or at least dream of him again as her eyes slipped closed the next evening.

Days blurred weeks, then into months, it took exactly a year later—not that she's counting, to be struck by the familiar visage.

Only, he was far more younger than in her dreams and what she initially thought he would be, the other appears to be around her age.

She heard a hitch in his breath escape his lips while her gaze never left him, she doesn't dare to, afraid he'll dissapear and only be a figment of her imagination, as a result of a full year of pining.