A Daydream

Log Number 2: My First Dream

I woke up with darkened sand near my face. There were a few red tents of color here and there, and the area itself gave off a hint of death and gore. The sky was gray with the clouds of billowing smoke destroying the bright and amazing imagery of the place before.

Where am I? I thought.

Nothing looked familiar. Only the shapes of the mountains looked similar.

looked to my right,where the shuttle should be. It was there. Rust covered the outside, and it looked old, like it had been there for years. The sand had embedded itself into cracks in the metal, and there was a gaping hole in the side. I hear the sand strangely crunch under my feet as I cautiously step to examine it.

There were small pieces of shrapnel around the ground by the hole. I was scared to look inside... It looked newly made.

I finally worked up the courage to look inside the hole of which the bottom is at chin level with me. The sight was horrifying.

Blood was everywhere. It was fresh, still liquid and running. I slowly traced every drop back to its source as it started dripping out of the hole that now was a door to nightmares.

The source was a body. It had brown hair, blue eyes, and... a large, sharp, scythe-like form of metal jutting out of the torso. A felt a tear drip down the side of my horrified face, but when I went to wipe it away, there was nothing there. The fact didn't distract me long enough to not recognize who this was.

"A..." I can't get the name out of my lips, but it was definitely her. Over the years we had spent together, I knew exactly what she looked like. I knew that is was her. We had an emotional link, some could say. Once I saw her body... I could feel the link break. I could feel it shatter. I felt very single piece hit the ground as my heart pounded as if its intention was to explode.

That was Aster.

That was her.

That was the girl I had spent a large amount of my life with. We had shared our most intimate thoughts about the world, about life, about our experiences.

It seemed a nightmare that she would be here now, dead. Her lifeless body sat there a little ways off the chair, static and not moving.

I remember a feeling in my chest. Do you remember a time when you have lost someone or something dear? Let's keep that at someone. This someone had developed a relationship with you, whether it was platonic or not, whether it was a deeply forged relationship by hard times or a friendly acquaintance. Then, they were gone. That's what I felt at that moment, but it was much worse.

I remember feeling a whole bore itself deep into my chest. It hurt. I felt my heart beating faster then slower. Faster then slower. It changed pace. It couldn't decide whether it wanted to stop or freak out.

I was never the one of us that felt a lot of emotion. I was emotional, yes, but my emotions worked differently. This was different. We had laughed together. We had talked together. We were better and more than just friends. Who wouldn't be after so much as a year in a shuttle together? Much less several?

My attention was pulled back to reality when a small something moved just off to the left of where I was looking: it was her mouth. It was opening and closing, opening and closing. I could tell that it was trying to say something. I could almost see the breath coming out of her lifeless body.

Every nerve in my body screamed to either go up there or to stay pur or to run. They were torn. I was torn. My thoughts, my feelings, my regret, my anxiousness. One pulled me one way. The other pulled me the other.