THE DREAMING PLAGUE
“I can’t sleep, doctor.”
The man on the couch is dressed in sturdy, well-made clothes, but still gives the impression of being ragged around the edges. Hollows under his eyes and nails chewed down to the quick.
“Every time I close my eyes and lay down to rest, I see them,” he continues. “I can’t stop thinking about it. Their faces in the gas. Couldn’t have been more than fourteen years old.”
“Powerful moments such as that do have a way of etching themselves into memory,” says the doctor. “I believe we can help you with that, if you're willing.”
“This won’t make me forget about them, will it?” the man says. “I mean, I just want to be able to sleep. I don’t want to forget those kids. I, you know, I guess..." He hesitates. "I feel like I owe it to them. Someone needs to remember.”
“The hypnosis therapy won’t erase your memory, no,” says the doctor. “It just...smooths out the jarring burr in your subconscious that this event has created. Eases the edges of the etching, if you like. You will remember them, but the memory won’t be as painful.”
“Doc, I gotta be honest, I don’t really know what that means,” says the man on the couch.
“Don’t worry about it,” says the doctor. “Just know that you will forget nothing.”
The man thinks for a moment.
“All right, then,” he says. “Let’s do it.”
“Very well,” says the doctor. He raises a pendulum, a stone carved with strange symbols at the end of a fine chain, and sets it swinging. “Follow the pendulum with your eyes.”
“You are tired. You are weary. Do not close your eyes, but sink down into the cushions and rest.”
“Now, with your eyes open, begin to dream...”
To Kasdeveris, from A Strange ApparitionSpoilerMichael Milos is in an alleyway of the refugee camp late at night, doing things that you don't need to concern yourself with, when the thing appears.
It is not a man. It almost looks like one, but there's something wrong about the edges, like you're squinting while looking at it. It makes Milos' eyes water, before Kasdeveris suppresses that human instinct in his borrowed mortal body.
It doesn't say anything, but as he opens his mouth to speak Kasdeveris can suddenly remember it having spoken.
HELLO, it does not say.
A WORD WITH YOU REGARDING THESE FLEETING SOULS
DEATH CONSUMES THAT WHICH SUSTAINS
WE WISH TO ASCERTAIN IF YOUR PLANS INVOLVE THE DEMISE OF ALL THOSE WITHIN THIS TERRITORY / NEIGHBORHOOD / DELINEATED PLACE
NOT TO STOP YOU
JUST TO KNOW
WHAT DO YOU DREAM ABOUT
This is not real
It is better than that
To St. Horace's Veterans Society, from the InstituteSpoilerAn orderly walks among the veterans at St. Horace's, talking quietly with the broken men and distributing small informational pamphlets.
Quote:
YOU GAVE YOUR ALL
YOU NEED NOT SUFFER FOR IT
The Novska Institute for the Study of Mental Derangement has developed revolutionary new techniques for restoring mind and body
Clear away the remnants of shell shock
Dispose of unwanted memories
Train your mind to think clearly and rationally
Live the life you have earned, through your service and your suffering
Come to the Runstelv Memorial Asylum, and ask for Doctor Tolks
This is not real
It has no end
To the Undivided, from This Same Old NightmareSpoilerThe dream is always the same.
The shriek as the shells come down.
The gibbering madness of the orders on the telegraph line, repeating "HOLD, HOLD, HOLD," like the lieutenant hammering the keys back in the headquarters trench could make it happen through sheer repetition.
The sight of Pierre's face, laughing as he breathed in the gas.
The mortar landing at his feet, and the sudden moment of grateful peace as he realized he was about to die, and be done with this hell.
Sometimes it was a dud, and all it did was splash him with mud and Pierre's blood. This is what had actually happened, and it was always disappointing.
Sometimes, it exploded.
Tonight, it spoke to him.
It talked to him of a world scoured free of this disease that built only to destroy. A world cured of the human condition.
It talked to him of a peace that could never be broken. It talked to him of folly, and glory, and how close they both were to each other.
And it told him how a new world could be made.
This is not real
But it should be
To the Blue Militia, from the InstituteSpoilerTo Whom it May Concern,
I have been given to understand that you and your compatriots have been engaged in protecting those unfortunates in the refugee camp who most need protecting--which is a laudable achievement, to be sure. However, I also understand that there are those who, while certainly not innocent, are not deserving of the sternest of punishments. I wish to offer you an opportunity, for those individuals that might be able to be rehabilitated into more upstanding citizens--send them to us at the Runstelv Memorial Asylum. We have had great success recently in altering or removing criminal impulses at a subconscious, and I am eager to apply these new findings to the benefit of all Novska.
We also have had some great success in improving the mental states of the insane or broken, which I feel is especially relevant to those affected by the recent great disaster that has enveloped all of Europa and, indeed, the world. In addition to rehabilitation of criminals, I would like to offer my services to anyone you know who might need to refocus themselves, or recover from shell shock, or relieve themselves of other maladies of the mind. These are not embarrassing disorders that need to be hidden in shame from the world; not any more, at least, thanks to the miracles of modern science.
Yours truly,
Doctor Hermann Tolks
“How do you feel?” asks the doctor.
“Better, actually,” says the man, surprised. “Rested. I haven’t felt this good since I got back from the war.”
The doctor smiles. “I’m so glad to hear that.”
To Novska Police, from the InstituteSpoilerSir,
I come to you with an offer of aid. Your police force is doing great work, but you carry a terrible burden, and as a citizen hoping to help improve this city I would like to do what I can to help. We have recently opened a new wing of the Runstelv Memorial Asylum, and I am ready to take criminally insane patients in the hopes of keeping them safe from harm and, in time, possibly rehabilitate them into respectable citizens. We have had great success with recent subconscious therapies that allow us to calm the wild beast inside the heart of the madman, and to mute criminal impulses in the mind of the career troublemaker, and I would like to be able to apply these therapies for the greater good of all Novska.
Yours truly,
Doctor Hermann Tolks
The man walks a black desert, devoid of all life
In the distance his fears and desires pile into mountains
He does not look at the thing which fills the sky
Imprisoning, looming, comforting, protecting
He is safe here
So long as it allows him to be
So long as he dreams the right dreams
It will be there
Forevermore
This night and all the nights to come