[Trevor is rewarded with a stink eye for the comment, but the food gets put down on the table all the same. The other two will have to untangle themselves to actually come and eat, so Alucard sits himself in the chair that will let him see that particular process unfold.
...but really, Sypha. He heard that implied for once. He's not going to call her for it though. Better approach: distract.]
Do your people have anything in your histories about distinguishing true dreams from the more mundane ones?
[What follows is the very definition of a tragedy: the food is out of reach, but to get it, Sypha would have to abandon her comfortable cuddle huddle. Thus no matter what she does, she is deprived and that's terrible.
Trevor, on the other hand, knows what he's about, and what he's about right now is breakfast. So Sypha ends up lifted and carried over to the table, where she can be comfortably deposited in a chair of her own before Trevor claims one within reach of the breakfast plates.]
Mm...that depends. Do you mean distinguishing them while you are having them, or after the fact, once you've woken up?
[It's ridiculous how Sypha just refuses to accept that food means the end of cuddle o'clock. He'd point out that if the two stayed in bed this problem wouldn't exist, but they made their (very sweet) choices.
Alucard does nudge his foot against hers though. Since she's now terribly free from being cuddled.]
Well, of course the most obvious difference is that a real dream has to include a message. Every culture distinguishes prophetic dreams as something separate, and for good reason, because that sort of dream comes from the outside, while the others only come from within.
[She hums softly, nudging his foot right back; she's still a little miffed about the lack of cuddles, but having a project to think about is certainly helping somewhat with distracting her from it.]
Another strong signal is being able to recognize that a part of the dream does not make sense. If it is a dream entirely of your own creation, then it will always seem to make sense, even where it is nonsensical. To be able to recognize that something is wrong is a hallmark of something else causing it.
[There will be more cuddles later. Promise. Cross his heart even. For now, there will just have to be this. And listening very carefully while spreading half of the eggs on the toast to just eat everything in one fell swoop.]
Well, the message point will be tested shortly, although I doubt that was the point of the whole thing.
[If anything, that felt like an after thought. But Sypha keeps talking, and he nods along.]
It could be small. But it would be the sort of thing that the dreamer could not ignore, once he'd observed it. It could be something as simple as...hmm. As simple as, "these walls are blue, but I know they're supposed to be red"! Even something like that, so long as it's wrong, could be enough. What makes the difference is what happens after you notice it.
[She shrugs a little, finally relenting enough to reach for her own breakfast.]
If the wrongness fades away, or you start to ignore it, then it isn't a real dream. If it wakes you up, it isn't a real dream. But if the dream persists despite the wrongness, then it's much more likely to be true.
[But none of it quite jives, does it? Aside from his mother being there at all and the interaction being far more real. Perhaps this is just something that won't match up with centuries of lore behind it. Just a dhampir's gut instinct and nothing else.
It's something to chew on, literally in this case.]
[He's halfway through the egg-on-toast already. And Trevor's probably checked out because this has hit exacting theories or, more accurately, "nerd time."]
So, in a place where you would have expected her to be.
[Hmmm. She ponders a little more, poking at her eggs and toast not because she's playing with her food instead of eating it, but because there's something about the nudging that's helping her to think.]
...Most cultures would seem to agree that spirits will more easily be drawn back to places they were comfortable with in their lives. Things they had attachments to, as though they had created a sort of magnetism between themselves and those things in life. Like having a tether, and a lighthouse. Something to guide the way to the correct place, and something to help hold there once they arrive.
[She hums.]
You know how you feel about the study. How did your mother feel about it?
[Yeah, well, as Sypha totally doesn't play with her food, Alucard eats the last bit of what's on his own plate, and he moves it aside. Forearms on the table, leaning forward just a little bit more. At this point he'd debate getting up to make seconds (not unusual), but this conversation is more important.]
Usually it was the natural starting point for looking for where my father had gotten to. Then the library. Then the lab. Then the rest was just waiting for him to find her instead.
Ah. [So, that's one logical part of this explained.]
The former. That particular pattern isn't unfamiliar to me.
[He's careful not to clarify if he means in dreams or in the waking world. The answer is both, and they don't need to know how much time he spends in that study brooding when they're not home.]
Have you ever had a dream of seeing someone else in the study? Like me, or Trevor.
[Or your father, she thinks, but it's far better to leave that one alone.]
That goes to the form of the dream. If it's a model your dreams are used to following, and you only fit in a different person every time, that's one thing. But if the person you meet there isn't interchangeable, that's another one entirely.
In it? No. Never. Passing outside of it, yes. Many a time.
[Maybe he will have to admit to the memories that haunt the hallways this time around. At the very least, it will come up within the year, but it shall be an easier thing to share due to this particular dream.]
I see. And gut instinct factors into all of this as well I'm assuming, correct?
Yes. Just from what you've said, I think there's enough evidence to suggest that this was not a mere figment of your sleeping mind.
[She polishes off another goodly bite of her breakfast, then starts ticking things off on her fingers as she chews.]
A message, a place associated with her, and a deviation from the usual in that specific way — someone usually passing by outside who specifically comes in to see you — those would all fit the mark of a prophetic dream.
[A prophecy to what, just get the castle moving again? Alucard hopes that it isn't the point of the dream alone. It'd be a sad thing if seeing his mother was only ever prompted by need.]
Mm. It is always a reassuring thing when the wisdom of ages backs up one's gut.
If there's success in the experiment, yes. If not, then at least you won't need to worry about breakfast.
[It does, however occur to Alucard that he may not be able to escape Sypha's grasp in the morning if he is in the center of the two of them. Morning cuddles are Required, and today he has avoided his duty.
A bridge to cross later.]
The particulate notes about the castle are, apparently, in my parent's bedroom though.
...I don't think we've ever been in there, have we? We always just...avoided it.
[Which doesn't inherently mean that Alucard has avoided it, of course, but she'd be willing to bet that he'd been just as inclined to leave it shut and untouched. There are few places in the castle likely to have heavier memories than that, after all.]
So if they really are there, it's unlikely your sleeping mind could have just made them up. But she would have known. It was her room, after all.
[It's confirmation of both parts. That no, she and Trevor have not been in there before, and that no, his own mind could not have thought up this particular location. Alucard had not even ventured near the room to lock it properly, as it was a part of the castle mercifully spared from the destructive fight. It was simply...there.
It's a place he knows will suck the contentment out of him, and so he smiles softly as he says:]
[Because, perhaps, she senses the precariousness of the moment and of his mood, and she wants to do her part to preserve it, too. That means a distraction, and she can't think of a better one than scooting up and out of her chair and over by him, arms out in expectation of being accepted into his.]
Hm, this seems more like an attempt to avoid doing the dishes.
[Trevor agrees that it absolutely is, but too late. Sypha's made a decision, and they can only abide by it. With her arms outstreched, Alucard inches his chair away from the table just enough and then slides Sypha over onto his lap.
She's a familiar and warm weight, and both his arms wrap around her waist, delighted.]
This is the problem with you leaving me in bed alone. You have to do this at the table instead, and the chairs aren't as comfortable as the mattress.
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...but really, Sypha. He heard that implied for once. He's not going to call her for it though. Better approach: distract.]
Do your people have anything in your histories about distinguishing true dreams from the more mundane ones?
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Trevor, on the other hand, knows what he's about, and what he's about right now is breakfast. So Sypha ends up lifted and carried over to the table, where she can be comfortably deposited in a chair of her own before Trevor claims one within reach of the breakfast plates.]
Mm...that depends. Do you mean distinguishing them while you are having them, or after the fact, once you've woken up?
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[It's ridiculous how Sypha just refuses to accept that food means the end of cuddle o'clock. He'd point out that if the two stayed in bed this problem wouldn't exist, but they made their (very sweet) choices.
Alucard does nudge his foot against hers though. Since she's now terribly free from being cuddled.]
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[She hums softly, nudging his foot right back; she's still a little miffed about the lack of cuddles, but having a project to think about is certainly helping somewhat with distracting her from it.]
Another strong signal is being able to recognize that a part of the dream does not make sense. If it is a dream entirely of your own creation, then it will always seem to make sense, even where it is nonsensical. To be able to recognize that something is wrong is a hallmark of something else causing it.
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Well, the message point will be tested shortly, although I doubt that was the point of the whole thing.
[If anything, that felt like an after thought. But Sypha keeps talking, and he nods along.]
I see. How obvious will that hallmark be?
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[She shrugs a little, finally relenting enough to reach for her own breakfast.]
If the wrongness fades away, or you start to ignore it, then it isn't a real dream. If it wakes you up, it isn't a real dream. But if the dream persists despite the wrongness, then it's much more likely to be true.
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[But none of it quite jives, does it? Aside from his mother being there at all and the interaction being far more real. Perhaps this is just something that won't match up with centuries of lore behind it. Just a dhampir's gut instinct and nothing else.
It's something to chew on, literally in this case.]
And the rarity of it all goes without saying.
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[She takes a bite of her toast, humming softly.]
Was there something wrong with your dream? Something about it that wasn't as it should have been?
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[He's halfway through the egg-on-toast already. And Trevor's probably checked out because this has hit exacting theories or, more accurately, "nerd time."]
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[These boys and their inhaling their food.]
So you saw your mother, and that was all. Where did you see her...?
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The study. Which...is not terribly unusual, in truth.
[He just doesn't go there when the other two are home. He also keeps the door closed when he isn't in there, naturally.]
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[Hmmm. She ponders a little more, poking at her eggs and toast not because she's playing with her food instead of eating it, but because there's something about the nudging that's helping her to think.]
...Most cultures would seem to agree that spirits will more easily be drawn back to places they were comfortable with in their lives. Things they had attachments to, as though they had created a sort of magnetism between themselves and those things in life. Like having a tether, and a lighthouse. Something to guide the way to the correct place, and something to help hold there once they arrive.
[She hums.]
You know how you feel about the study. How did your mother feel about it?
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Usually it was the natural starting point for looking for where my father had gotten to. Then the library. Then the lab. Then the rest was just waiting for him to find her instead.
Ah. [So, that's one logical part of this explained.]
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[Things add up, indeed.]
Were you already there when it began? Or was she there first, and you found her?
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[He's careful not to clarify if he means in dreams or in the waking world. The answer is both, and they don't need to know how much time he spends in that study brooding when they're not home.]
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[Or your father, she thinks, but it's far better to leave that one alone.]
That goes to the form of the dream. If it's a model your dreams are used to following, and you only fit in a different person every time, that's one thing. But if the person you meet there isn't interchangeable, that's another one entirely.
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[Maybe he will have to admit to the memories that haunt the hallways this time around. At the very least, it will come up within the year, but it shall be an easier thing to share due to this particular dream.]
I see. And gut instinct factors into all of this as well I'm assuming, correct?
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[She polishes off another goodly bite of her breakfast, then starts ticking things off on her fingers as she chews.]
A message, a place associated with her, and a deviation from the usual in that specific way — someone usually passing by outside who specifically comes in to see you — those would all fit the mark of a prophetic dream.
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Mm. It is always a reassuring thing when the wisdom of ages backs up one's gut.
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[He did, after all, mention wanting to experiment with the conditions again, and see if he could replicate the phenomenon.]
At least this time we'll remember the right proportion of eggs to milk. ...I think.
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[It does, however occur to Alucard that he may not be able to escape Sypha's grasp in the morning if he is in the center of the two of them. Morning cuddles are Required, and today he has avoided his duty.
A bridge to cross later.]
The particulate notes about the castle are, apparently, in my parent's bedroom though.
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[Which doesn't inherently mean that Alucard has avoided it, of course, but she'd be willing to bet that he'd been just as inclined to leave it shut and untouched. There are few places in the castle likely to have heavier memories than that, after all.]
So if they really are there, it's unlikely your sleeping mind could have just made them up. But she would have known. It was her room, after all.
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[It's confirmation of both parts. That no, she and Trevor have not been in there before, and that no, his own mind could not have thought up this particular location. Alucard had not even ventured near the room to lock it properly, as it was a part of the castle mercifully spared from the destructive fight. It was simply...there.
It's a place he knows will suck the contentment out of him, and so he smiles softly as he says:]
It can wait until the afternoon.
[A few more hours of this mood, at least.]
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[Because, perhaps, she senses the precariousness of the moment and of his mood, and she wants to do her part to preserve it, too. That means a distraction, and she can't think of a better one than scooting up and out of her chair and over by him, arms out in expectation of being accepted into his.]
Kisses, please.
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[Trevor agrees that it absolutely is, but too late. Sypha's made a decision, and they can only abide by it. With her arms outstreched, Alucard inches his chair away from the table just enough and then slides Sypha over onto his lap.
She's a familiar and warm weight, and both his arms wrap around her waist, delighted.]
This is the problem with you leaving me in bed alone. You have to do this at the table instead, and the chairs aren't as comfortable as the mattress.
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