Deus Ex Diluvium (Ryden)

The Table; part 2

The fire burned for longer than expected, and was still smouldering quietly when both men were fast asleep.

"I didn't think you'd take so long to die."

The voice was friendly, the words tinged with laughter. Which, for the record, didn't make them any less chilling.

Ryan's mind was in the tired, buzzing state of one who has just woken up. In this case, he was experiencing the opposite. He quickly registered that he was dreaming; his level of self awareness higher than it had any right to be in a dream. Which suggested that maybe he wasn't dreaming. Except he couldn't possibly be awake.

What really convinced him was that it was a familiar dream. But not his own. Weird. Very weird.

He was in Brendon's dream. His initial reaction was to chastise himself.

Ryan, you idiot, how obsessed do you have to be with someone for their dreams to become your own? Its understandable for him to appear in your dreams, but for you to appear in his? That's a little intrusive, don't you think?

"Don't get me wrong," the voice continued. "I'm pleased you've finally joined us."

Horror replaced confusion on his face as he turned to see who had uttered the most terrifying greeting he'd ever heard. He feared the worst.

"You do remember me, right?" At first he didn't recognise her. Her hair was down and a casual summer top had replaced the pristine suit she'd been wearing last time they'd met.

"Bonny? What the hell?"

She nodded, a gratified expression on her face. In an instant it became one of regret and embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Not before someone told you what this place is."

"Yeah, it was a pretty original way of saying hello." He didn't want to dwell on it. "What is this place then?"

"Ryan, listen to me." She grabbed his hands urgently. "This may shock you, but please remain sensible. Hear me out. You're dead. We're all dead. Most people get into a mood when they find out, but it's a waste of time, because the afterlife is very similar to the life you're used to. So my advice is accept it and move on."

"Thanks," Ryan laughed, not really caring about whatever his sleeping imagination was putting in her mouth. "But I've got bad news for you too. This is a dream, and none of you are real."

"You're not the first one who's had that idea. But I assure you, you're wrong." She turned her back to him, tugging on her shirt to expose her shoulder and the words tattooed on it. "Read that."

"Saints and faith are just commodities? What does that mean?"

"It's from a song. I was young. It doesn't matter. Just read it again."

"Saints and faith are just- Look I really don't see the point of this."

"The point is, you can read it. You can't read in dreams."

"So I've heard."

"So simple, but undeniable. Though I expect you'll try to deny it anyway. People tend to ignore all evidence of the truth when they don't want to accept it. Oh, and maybe stop thinking about the word 'dead' as something sinister. We're conditioned to fear it our whole lives but it's really just a necessary process. Still, few learn to look at it with indifference. Even people who've been here years. Tell them they're dead and they go all pale. Most of us prefer the term 'moved on'."

"I don't remember dying." Her words contained a frightening amount of common sense. He glanced again at the tattoo, now half hidden by her shirt, willing it to shift or change entirely. It refused.