[Session 45] The Dream

The journal is written in a cipher that is a mix of Bastion's three official languages: Common, Dwarvish and Elven. There are also occasional pages in Thieves Cant. Most entries are short, a few pages, with dates and drawings, rough maps for reference - the most recent entry is the longest one for some time. A Skirmisher would recognise the cipher as one that is regularly used to keep internal communications secure amongst scouts.
 
I've not slept so restlessly in the Wastes since some of our earliest expeditions. There's something about this place that doesn't feel right. Maybe it's just because I'm used to the constants of Bastion and the Dead City, neither of which are here.
 
The sky is the same though. That should be a comfort really, but clearly not enough for my subconscious.
 
I rarely dream so vividly, at least, not dream this way and remember it, let alone feel compelled to write it down. I was standing on the tundra hills, alone, but then I could see my father on another hill across the way, as I remembered him from decades ago now, clean shaven, neatly trimmed hair, younger, in his guard uniform. Then Quinn joined him, and Shatterstar, both exactly as I'd left them in Bastion.
 
I raised my hand to greet them, not sure why they were here, but they didn't react they just faded away into dust, as if they weren't flesh at all. I panicked, but calmed a little when the Stormwalkers stepped through - Brennan, Madoc, Nessa, Elyn, all ready in their armour for another mission, but oddly stoic, expressionless. As soon as I opened my mouth to call out, they faded too.
 
I spun around to look for them, but there was no one else around, it was just that hill. Hamish stood there now, frown on his face, and just when I was about to apologise again (it'd have been my fault I was sure of it, even in the dream) he disappeared as well, dust in the air like the wind was blowing him away.
 
My heart was hammering, just as it is now even remembering it. My other Freelancers emerged through the dust next - Rel, Liv, Saman and Penny - and the relief was just as fleeting when they vanished too. Elirith emerged next - odd that she was by herself, but I suppose my mind knew she wasn't a Freelancer anymore. She Changed to her natural form but I'm not sure how I knew this - I don't recall seeing Elirith change, only her mother, but I suppose that's where the dream pulled that knowledge from.
 
She was the only one to smile at me, and when the dust came, it was different. Her eyes went black, and the dust seems to consume her rather than fade away growing in a metallic mass from which emerged the Warforged that we encountered in the brewery.
 
I reached for my bow as it moved, but my quiver was empty. I wish that was enough to ground me - I've never gone in the Wastes without arrows - but it still felt so real and I felt impossibly alone. I ran instead, knowing I was no match for this thing.
 
With a headstart I should have been faster, but just I looked over my shoulder, I crashed straight into it. I've never felt fear or helplessness quite like it. Since I had no arrows, I swung my sword at it instead, but it didn't connect like I expected - it split into two where my sword struck it, and vanished into dust.
 
There was no sign of it as I looked around, alone in the tundra. Then I felt a sharp pain through my back, its sword straight through my middle - I can still feel it, still see it if I think about it too much, but this wasn't enough to wake me - and then it's fist is pressed against the back of my head. It snaps its fingers, and that's when I wake up with a scream.
 
Penitence and Saman came over as soon as I woke, and to my embarrassment, seeing Saman caused me to flinch and panic for another moment. It's shameful that he can trigger that sort of fear, when he's done nothing to me to intend me harm. It would be like reacting badly to every dwarf that crossed my path just because Madoc had knocked me on my ass more than once. When I think about how calm and accepting the people of Purgatory were, when they have a reason for fearing a Warforged in their home, there is no excuse.
 
I still don’t know what the dream is meant to mean. It should just be a dream, and mean nothing, but the feeling from this one has been enough that I’m carrying it with me even now, and this veritable essay is an effort to purge it from my head so that I might shake off how much it has unsettled me. It wasn’t my death that scared me - though an old friend told me once that just because you don’t fear death, it doesn’t mean you’re ready for it, and I am far from ready - it was the feeling of being completely alone, my family vanishing before my eyes and I had no way to stop it.
 
If nothing else, this weird dream has been an odd wake up call, reminding me that my family is bigger than I realised, and I’ve been taking it for granted for too long - and its family in three very different places. I wish I could split myself into three copies, maybe even more, to be there for each of them… but I’m worried that, at some point, I will have to choose, and I’m not ready for that prospect either.