writing_shadows

Dream about the new King of Cats. That’s it. Nothing could be simpler, apparently.

It was only the other day that Tor was saying about how we could dream about whatever we wanted, that our kind can control our sleeping thoughts. He said he’d help me, but we ran out of time; had to go back to Cambridge to start my shift in the Crowns.

Now, more than ever, I’m wishing I didn’t have to leave him that night. Maybe then I’d actually be useful tonight, be able to help the others. Protecting us from Them – precisely what I’ve just signed up to do. I’m the Red Victor, and here I am being totally useless. Laying in bed, thinking about sleep instead of actually doing something.

If I sleep, I dream. If I dream and get it wrong, think of the wrong thing, who knows what will happen. For all I know, the new King of Cats will turn out to be a monkey or something. But if I don’t sleep, again, after last night, I’ll be in no state to go to the market, and I do have something I’m looking for. I wish Tor was here, or Amara. Even Megan. Just to keep me occupied, or maybe to guide me, help me.

So tired. I can feel my eyes closing. Cannot stay awake.

Nothing. Blackness. Sleep.

And then, the dream. The ritual, the zombies, the ghosts. Blood everywhere. Velvet’s head. Crystal’s eyes. My arm. Gushing. Spewing blood like a stream. Mac.

Why can’t I be dreaming of cats…