Work Text:
Journal Report Q4_A
06/07/25G4
Syndicate Division for Interdimensional Phenomena
For H6 only - Private report
Dreams and their phenomena: Glimpses into different dimensions I - External influences
A widely accepted truth in N-EX-092 is that dreams serve as visions of different dimensions. Windows into different and similar worlds alike, normally unknown to us. The only exception to that are the people of the Selene, who see dreams as nothing more than brain activity during sleep. While that is partially true, the way the rest of the dimension thinks it happens on the quantum level is still largely unknown, although the most plausible and well known theory is that during sleep, our link to Quantum Limbo gets stronger, allowing our subconscious to temporarily travel to and spectate other dimension bubbles, as well as experience them through the eyes of its inhabitants. It is seen as a consequence of N-EX-092 being an unstable dimension located both in Quantum Limbo and Imaginary Space at once. These visions are often hazy, like normal dreams ought to be.
I am no exception to that. While I do not dream as often as others might, I still get eventual visions. It’s just that for whatever reason, these dreams feel dull. Lonely. Like a gray, cloudy, winter day.
Their atmosphere is suffocating.
You stand in the middle of a field. Next to you is a tall, soviet-style concrete building. It is empty. As is fitting for this limbo, it is colorless, dirty and cracked. The windows are shattered. There's no one inside, and there's no one else here other than you. It is devoid of life. There's no sun, and there's no warmth. Just chilly, stale air and a single leafless tree next to the building. It does not move. You don't know what the purpose of the rope hanging off its branch is.
You look up, and you're met with a gray sky. The clouds seem to stay in place.
You look back down at the vast expanse around you. The field stretches out in all directions, never ending, yet empty. You feel trapped.
You look down at the grass. It looks dry. Dead. You can't tell exactly what color it is– something between a grayish, muted green and a constantly changing shade you can't quite describe. The closest thing you can think of is static.
You look down at your hand. There are no colors other than the blue of your own tears and the red of your own blood. You didn't notice the glass shard stuck in your palm.
It feels like there should be others here.
Limbo.
Liminal.
This place is liminal.
That is what my dreams feel like, no matter where they take place. Liminal. Empty, cold, lifeless. Dull and gray, yet so familiar.
Muted.
No sun.
Like a cold winter day.
I've always hated winter.
Winter, cold and depressing.
Winter, when I made the biggest of mistakes.
Winter, when I was born.
Winter, the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
I've always hated winter, so why does it haunt my visions of different worlds?
Why does its presence suffocate me wherever I go?
My dreams– glimpses into different dimensions– they feel empty. Unreal. Unsafe. No matter how many people there are, no matter what's happening. They make me feel an overwhelming sense of loneliness and detachment– maybe derealization? I don't get them often, and they aren't nightmares either. Not always. But they're depressing. I don't understand why. I don't remember the last time it felt okay. The last time this loneliness wasn't there.
I wake up and feel like it's winter all over again.
Cold.
No sun.
Could it be my emotions interfering with the interdimensional link? My environment? It seems likely, but they shouldn't have such a massive impact, despite my usually pessimistic mindset. I’m not sure.
But something happened. Something that might be proof that the theory is correct after all.
There was a meeting with a guest. I sat next to her. We know each other. I'm relatively sure I'm the only one she knows out of the entire Syndicate. Our relationship is weird– we aren’t exactly friends, just as we aren’t exactly enemies. We have our differences, we argue, there was a point in time where I challenged her to duels over and over again in hopes of beating her.
Victory, they call her. As bright and warm as the sun and as comforting and beautiful as summer.
How do you win against victory herself? It’s a paradox, and I spent the longest time trying to crack it. For my research. She beat me every single time. What’s violence to victory? But then, how do you win against violence using violence? It doesn’t matter.
I don’t know exactly what she thinks of me, and I don’t know exactly what I think of her. I just know that she’s fascinating.
I don’t know if I want to be her or if I want her to love me.
Exactly those thoughts are what made me zone out for the majority of the meeting, besides the random wound I had on the palm of my hand. I most likely accidentally cut myself on some glass earlier. I didn’t seem to notice the blood.
So pathetic. Unprofessional.
I must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because soon after I heard my colleagues voice fade into silence, I blinked and opened my eyes to a completely different scenery. A neon city, quite similar to Nova Nexus, with its massive skyscrapers and structures typical for a cyberpunk city. Just less grand. Of course. There aren’t a lot of places more impressive than Nova Nexus in terms of technological advancement and modern architecture, even in my dreams. As the city with the biggest skyline in the entire solar system, it rightfully held the title of the most impressive city of the current generation.
I let the vision play out, hazy as it was, but I could feel a difference.
The colors were back, and Lady Winter’s oppressive presence was gone. The air smelled like summer night, and the lights were brighter than I’ve ever seen them be before.
The people in the dimension of my dream felt real. Not like lifeless puppets. The grass was green and the clouds moved again.
This time, the venture felt more like a sweet dream instead of cold, lifeless limbo.
After a while I let the warm summer breeze caress my face as I started to wake up.
I woke up to quiet humming and something warm under my cheek. I fully opened my eyes. There were no notable colors other than the blue of the smudged lipstick on the back of my hand and the red of my blood under a bandaid on my palm.
The sun was shining on me, and she was humming that song we both sang together such a long time ago as she gently pet my hair.
I felt safe and comfortable there, with my head in her lap.
Warm.
She stayed there for me, even after the meeting was long over. As I fell asleep I must’ve accidentally leaned on her. She readjusted me to make it more comfortable.
Victory, as beautiful as sunflowers and orchids.
With the sun giving me all her love and attention, I drifted back to sleep, sinking into her touch. Winter was over.
I didn't dream again.
It's summer now.
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External influences. I believe they have something to do with the dreams I get.
Oh, how I long for the sun’s warm embrace and comforting presence.
I hope I get to see her again soon, my God, my universe.