Inbox

[itsjustabaddream]

INBOX OF NEIL WEST

Neil would be happy to hear from you. Leave a comment below to reach out. You can pay him a visit at home, or send him a letter any time.

GAME NAV ✦ THE OCULARUM

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[misbegottendreamer]

“Nine chimes, though I’m not always the best about keeping to it,” she admits.

“Sometimes I get to bed a little later, if I get too caught up in an evening walk.”

[itsjustabaddream]

"In that case, we had best meet a bit later," Neil says. "And you should get a walk in. Whatever helps you sleep best. I'll also have sleep aids here, of course."

(Cutting forward?)

[misbegottendreamer]

She nods.

“I think I will do that, muthsera. A walk helps set a good rhythm for sleeping.”

Sounds good!

[itsjustabaddream]

"Excellent! I will take care of preparations, you just make sure to wear yourself out. The deeper you sleep, the better."

True to his word, Neil prepares his working space. The therapy room he uses has a small bed tucked into the corner, and by the time Drelasa returns, Neil has it set out with essentials. Water, an herbal tea with chamomile, a lavender potpourri of sorts. He has a chair set up for himself as well. The table beside him has some sort of beverage as well, alongside his arcane focus. He welcomes her back inside. "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I find it's easier if I join you later, rather than trying to be in the same space while you're trying to get to sleep."

[misbegottendreamer]

Drelasa removes her over-dress, revealing her nightgown beneath, and unmasks. She sits down on the edge of the bed, breathing deeply. With only a little trouble, she finds the tea, and drinks it slowly, taking in the fragrance.

It isn't long before she starts to feel drowsy, and she lies down, singing softly to herself. It isn't a coherent song, or even a steady tune. Rather, they are half-whispered notes that escape on her every breath, a relaxation of her inhibitions and a reassurance to herself that she is in a place where it's safe for her to self-soothe.

The sightless dark is different from the rippling inkwell of the dreaming, and it isn't long before the former sinks into the latter.

[itsjustabaddream]

Once Neil is decently confident that she would have entered REM sleep, he quietly lets himself into the room, sitting in the chair across from her. He drinks his own sweet-smelling beverage, holds his focus in his left hand, and closes his eyes.

Neil's consciousness fades from him. His body sinks into the chair, doing something akin to sleep, but not quite. His mind still fires wildly as his physical form reduces operational capacity to simply breathing. And his essence begins to exist elsewhere.

As it is with these excursions, Neil finds himself in a vast and sprawling landscape of moonlit obsidian sand dunes. The liquid hills of shifting sands extend out endlessly in all directions, roiling and undulating slowly in a lazy, howling wind that tangles with Neil's hair. A full moon shines down from above, setting the dark particles to glitter. This world which exists only in Neil's mind, this junction into the fiber of dreams, is so utterly, deafeningly silent. He steps forward, leaving no footprints and suffering no unsteadiness from the churning landscape under his feet. He reaches out a hand, and finds an invisible threshold before him.

He steps through, finding himself elsewhere.

[misbegottendreamer]

Neil finds himself in a narrow hallway, surrounded by walls that have an audible pulse. It’s too dark to see anything clearly, yet a red glow pervades over everything else. The air smells of sulfur, and burning, and freshly-cut meat. The floor, seemingly stone at first, has an odd squishiness to it. And over everything, there is the sound of deep bells ringing periodically, and the rhythmic beating of a massive heart.

[itsjustabaddream]

What surprises Neil most is the smell. Olfactory cues can be very strong memory triggers, but it's not often they're so pervasive that they reach dreams. But between the scents, the beating, the sonorous bells, Neil immediately recognizes the utility of this place and its sensory intensity.

This is a religious space. Filled with hypnotic stimuli intended to dull the senses to all but spiritual ecstasy.

He follows the hallway, unfazed and focused.

[misbegottendreamer]

There’s something following him.

Or at the very least, there’s something else here, moving around, that sometimes comes close to him. Its footsteps, heavy and laborious, are accompanied by an intensification of the bells and a harshening (but not brightening) of the glow.

There’s a muffled choir rising up from within the walls. It sounds like dozens of people, begging, chanting, wailing, weeping.

[itsjustabaddream]

Neil does not bother to spare a glance at what is behind him. It will reveal itself when he is in the main space. As he moves through the dream, there is almost a floating quality to his own stride, as if his feet touching the ground at all is a formality. There is no sound or weight to his footsteps. He is in complete control of himself, and how much the dream notices his presence, even the environment.

He follows the sound of the choir.

[misbegottendreamer]

The sound leads him nowhere. He turns a corner and it beckons him back the way he came. It seems like it’s coming from within the walls themselves-

-which suddenly stretch as hands reach out for him, claws just barely not piercing the membrane-stone of the architecture.