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Astrid had woken up from the strangest dream.
It was one of those dreams that felt incredibly real, even after you woke up, but she knew it couldn't possibly have been. In the dream, she'd been back at Fandom, and she'd been plastic, a doll, everyone had been toys, and she took a moment to double-check, peering into the darkness, feeling her arm with her fingers. No, she was here, in her room in Hollywood, flesh and bone, staring at up at the rabbit on the wall, the collage of drawings from Sabine on the new corkboard, Mae's postcard sketch too. But everything had seemed so vivid, so real. She frowned, letting things catch up with her, maybe a few things already starting to fade in the way that dreams do, but, for the most part, it all seemed oddly...sticking.
When she realized she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, Astrid got up, putting on her slippers and shuffling to the little red kitchen she'd come to love so much, and wasn't even the least bit surprised to see that Claire was already there, sitting at the table, staring out into the dark shadows of the garden through the window. Astrid wasn't surprised; Ron had been gone for about a week now, to New Zealand this time, and the longer he was away, the less Claire seemed to be able to sleep. She turned her head when she heard Astrid approach, giving her a wan ghost of a smile.
"Astrid," she said. "Are you feeling better?"
"Feeling better?"
"You've been sick all week," she explained, her brow creasing with her frown. "I was starting to get a little worried, but the doctor said you were fine, just...under the weather."
"I had a strange dream," Astrid admitted, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table and sinking down into it. "About the school I went to out east."
"Tell me about it?"
And so she did. Astrid wanted to get it out of her, and Claire needed the distraction, and so she unraveled the story about how everyone was a toy, and there were Good Toys and Bad Toys, and she was a Good Toy, but a lot of the things she did didn't seem very Good at all. There was this boy named Wayne, who she'd thrown into the Toybox for not being happy enough. She didn't even remember anyone at Fandom named Wayne...
"One of the guards at the museum is named Wayne," Claire offered. "Maybe that's where you got that from."
Maybe, but Astrid doubted it. She didn't know any of the guards were named Wayne, but of course that was something Claire would know. Either way, she went on to tell Claire about how more and more toys went Bad, and then there was an attempt to jumpstart the machinery on the island, but those toys were caught and slated for a big public execution. Then there was a fight, and an explosion, and then...
...and then she woke up, she guessed.
"You have such an incredible imagination," Claire gushed, her look pure admiration, which made Astrid shift a little where she sat and stare down at her twisting fingers, because she was pretty sure imagination had nothing to do with it.
"Claire?" she asked, lifting her eyes finally. "Can I....can I maybe call a few people back east tomorrow? I know it'll cost money, but I'll work it off. I'll earn it."
"Oh, Astrid," Claire said, in that soft, heartbroken, almost pitying way of hers that made Astrid ache a little. She smiled, getting up from her chair, moving over to brush a hand over Astrid's hair and place a kiss at the top of her head. "Whatever you need to do. Here. I'll make us some tea. Chammomile and lavender, to help us sleep. How's that sound?"
It sounded perfect, but Astrid couldn't say it. Like saying it would only ruin it, and this would all be a dream, too.
She liked this dream much, much better.
[[ Mostly establishly, NBF, but you know I'll not be against anyone wanting to poke in! ]]
It was one of those dreams that felt incredibly real, even after you woke up, but she knew it couldn't possibly have been. In the dream, she'd been back at Fandom, and she'd been plastic, a doll, everyone had been toys, and she took a moment to double-check, peering into the darkness, feeling her arm with her fingers. No, she was here, in her room in Hollywood, flesh and bone, staring at up at the rabbit on the wall, the collage of drawings from Sabine on the new corkboard, Mae's postcard sketch too. But everything had seemed so vivid, so real. She frowned, letting things catch up with her, maybe a few things already starting to fade in the way that dreams do, but, for the most part, it all seemed oddly...sticking.
When she realized she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, Astrid got up, putting on her slippers and shuffling to the little red kitchen she'd come to love so much, and wasn't even the least bit surprised to see that Claire was already there, sitting at the table, staring out into the dark shadows of the garden through the window. Astrid wasn't surprised; Ron had been gone for about a week now, to New Zealand this time, and the longer he was away, the less Claire seemed to be able to sleep. She turned her head when she heard Astrid approach, giving her a wan ghost of a smile.
"Astrid," she said. "Are you feeling better?"
"Feeling better?"
"You've been sick all week," she explained, her brow creasing with her frown. "I was starting to get a little worried, but the doctor said you were fine, just...under the weather."
"I had a strange dream," Astrid admitted, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table and sinking down into it. "About the school I went to out east."
"Tell me about it?"
And so she did. Astrid wanted to get it out of her, and Claire needed the distraction, and so she unraveled the story about how everyone was a toy, and there were Good Toys and Bad Toys, and she was a Good Toy, but a lot of the things she did didn't seem very Good at all. There was this boy named Wayne, who she'd thrown into the Toybox for not being happy enough. She didn't even remember anyone at Fandom named Wayne...
"One of the guards at the museum is named Wayne," Claire offered. "Maybe that's where you got that from."
Maybe, but Astrid doubted it. She didn't know any of the guards were named Wayne, but of course that was something Claire would know. Either way, she went on to tell Claire about how more and more toys went Bad, and then there was an attempt to jumpstart the machinery on the island, but those toys were caught and slated for a big public execution. Then there was a fight, and an explosion, and then...
...and then she woke up, she guessed.
"You have such an incredible imagination," Claire gushed, her look pure admiration, which made Astrid shift a little where she sat and stare down at her twisting fingers, because she was pretty sure imagination had nothing to do with it.
"Claire?" she asked, lifting her eyes finally. "Can I....can I maybe call a few people back east tomorrow? I know it'll cost money, but I'll work it off. I'll earn it."
"Oh, Astrid," Claire said, in that soft, heartbroken, almost pitying way of hers that made Astrid ache a little. She smiled, getting up from her chair, moving over to brush a hand over Astrid's hair and place a kiss at the top of her head. "Whatever you need to do. Here. I'll make us some tea. Chammomile and lavender, to help us sleep. How's that sound?"
It sounded perfect, but Astrid couldn't say it. Like saying it would only ruin it, and this would all be a dream, too.
She liked this dream much, much better.
[[ Mostly establishly, NBF, but you know I'll not be against anyone wanting to poke in! ]]
