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[itsjustabaddream]

INBOX OF NEIL WEST

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January | Which Is Life, And Which The Dream?

[lastofthefirst]

Doctor West, take hold of your courage, something shocking has happened. Someone is here, during office hours. Specifically, Our Vikas is here, shaking her cloak off in the doorway where, y'know, one does so, to shed the snow; she looks around with a curious expression, taking in the room with the odd small nod, before fixing her attention on Neil.

"You're the oneiromancer, yes?"

(Oneiromancer; one who performs divination via dreams, from the Greek. More colloquially, given that English has dog shit words for 'magic', one who performs sorceries derived from or relating to dreaming).

[itsjustabaddream]

"I haven't heard that term since I left Providence," Neil remarks, bemused. "Yes, that's me. How may I help you?"

[lastofthefirst]

"I'm not sure that you can, but I'm willing to pay to find out." Vika moves delicately in here; she's very heavy, and floorboards don't like her much. She's coming closer as a social courtesy but her feet stay where the floor has the most support from below. "Forgive me what's probably a very stupid question from your perspective: are daydreams dreams?"

[itsjustabaddream]

That's alright. Neil will meet her where she stands.

"That isn't stupid at all. That's actually a bit complicated. To answer you: yes and no. Yes in the sense that they are the internal imaginings of a mind left to wander, but no in the sense that they are not the creation of the subconscious mind. Dreams often allow the dreamer far less control than daydreams. Though my answers are fairly broad at the moment. Perhaps if you provided a bit more context?"

[lastofthefirst]

"...Yeah. Good point. This isn't the shell I'm used to; it seems to be a creation of this world, or something like it. I'm hoping that might be key."

A tinny voice announces: file not found, and Vika scowls. "Haven't mixed a sigh yet...anyway, there's some key ways that I'm not like a human mind. I don't sleep, and I can't meditate - that needs physical processing that I just don't have. Glands, y'know...but if I'm inactive long enough I get caught in thought loops. Memories mix up, or new elements get added with a changed context. It seems like descriptions of dreams, but I'm not...down. I can move, become active again with little effort."

[itsjustabaddream]

"I see." Neil hums thoughtfully. "It sounds like a result of a fundamental difference in the function of our brains. What you're experiencing may very well be your equivalent of a dream. But it sounds more like trauma."

[lastofthefirst]

"It might be. I'd like..."

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click...

"...I want my mind to be a safe place. Is that what you offer?"

[itsjustabaddream]

Neil softens a bit at that.

"I try to. It's work, both for me and for you, and requires a fair bit of trust. I don't have easy answers or miracle cures. But I have patience, and experience, and the desire to help. I'd be honored if you gave me a chance to do that for you."

[lastofthefirst]

"...I value my volition above nearly anything, Doctor. Very much including my life. Definitely to include anyone else's. You may be thinking I'm threatening you. This is correct. But I'm also trying to stress to you how desperate I am that I have come here regardless. You're right about the trust." She looks away; the coat rack is suddenly extremely interesting to her. "...But if my own mind can't be my sanctuary, then I have none anywhere."

[itsjustabaddream]

"This will not require any sacrifice of free will. It's all about your choices. You have to choose to do the emotional labor, choose to trust me to have your best interests at heart, and choose to be vulnerable. I will ask you to do things, but I will never force you. If you meet me where I am at, we can make your mind a safer place to be, as a team." He offers a handshake. "Shall we make a go of it?"

[lastofthefirst]

She considers it for a moment, and then very carefully shakes Neil's hand. Her concern isn't crushing it - she's got fine control - but rather the pinch points of her exposed finger joints which really could use like, a fucking glove or something.

"Let's."