The dream began suddenly with a loud screech.
"What do you mean you didn't bring him?" Medea shrieked, arms raising to pull at her hair. "You left my brother behind?"
The red haired woman Medea was yelling at - Ingrid - winced at Medea's words.
"There were complications." Ingrid replied. "I-"
"I know there were complications, Ingrid, that's why my boyfriend is in a hospital bed with a bullet in his gut!" Medea seemed to be losing her cool. "Did I not give you strict instructions to destroy all obstacles? You failed to perform, Ingrid! I should have you killed."
Ingrid looked down guiltily, eyes hidden behind a new pair of sunglasses.
"You're lucky I believe in second chances." A new air of calm rested on Medea now as she relaxed. "After all, I didn't go into all that work to keep you out of jail for nothing."
"You're not mad?" Ingrid asked hesitantly.
"What? No. I'm furious, Ingrid. You got my boyfriend hurt and you left my brother with a bunch of people who are just trying to get in the way of my plans!" Medea shook her head and begun pacing. "I hope they don't hurt him. You know how important family is to me, Ingrid. It hurts knowing that a possible member of my family has turned her back on another. That's not how things work here."
"I'm sorry, 'Dea."
"Don't call me that. It's 'Medea' to you and only Medea unless you manage to get back in my good graces." Medea snapped.
Ingrid nodded silently.
"Now go. Leave. Leave! Let me worry about my real family in peace." Medea ordered. Looking almost like a kicked dog, Ingrid slunk out of the room, head down.
Medea sighed and sat down on a nearby loveseat, raising her hand over her forehead dramatically.
"Can someone please get me an update on Jude? If my future husband dies before the Ascension, there will be hell to pay."
The scene blurred out, replaced by a different one. This one felt less like watching something happen in real life and more like a memory. Someone else's memory.
A blonde boy running through the woods, bruises and blood on his face. A man is yelling in the distance.
"Help me, mama." The boy cries to seemingly no one. "Please, I need to escape."
He trips and cries out, and the scene blurs again. A different memory.
"Come here, child." A smooth, accented voice coos to a naive 3-year-old, who turns to face the speaker and smiles widely, rushing out of view as if running to a parent or friend.
The scene ripples, but the memory is of the same person's.
A woman is screaming for her baby, where is her baby, as the speaker slips back into the darkness of an alleyway out of sight.
Another blur. A different memory.
"You'll always be my best friend." Says a young brown-haired boy. "That's what twin brothers are for."
Another ripple. The same brown-haired boy, now older, is shakingly holding a gun and pointing it directly at whoever's memory this is.
Darkness. Glass shatters. Crunch.
Another blur. Another memory.
"There's no one like you, darling!" Cries the voice of an older man. "Out there, it's not safe! You could die! Nowhere is safe for you, can't you understand?"
The memory fades and ends, replacing itself with flashes of various scenes.
The screech of tires.
"....a daughter of Hecate!"
Guns.
"...You are a Valykrie..."
The victorious cheers of a group of individuals who must have just won something.
"...son of Hestia..."
"The world's a lot bigger than you think."
"Ha-di!"
The roar of a lion.
".....my pills. Someone took them."
The sound of a girl getting punched in the face.
"They're killing us!"
Cheers and chaos echoing through a great hall.
"....went missing..."
"They're killing us, captain, please, I want to go home!"
Glass shattering.
"....magician of Sobek..."
The clanging of swords, accompanied by the playful laughter of a young boy and his sparring partner.
"Please, mama.."
The roar of fire, crackling, burning, consuming,
"...have to amputate.."
"....back to the ancient pharoahs..."
Video game chirps and sounds, loud and reptitive, played late into the night.
A young girl screams shrilly.
The calming scent of several candles, all laid out in a shape. A ritual is happening.
Something snaps. Bone.
Steel on steel.
Game over.
Ha-di.
"Why'd you kill Kelsey? He was playing poker with us, you jerk!"
The scent of a hospital.
"A son of Nike! Huzzah!!"
A girl choking on something - Pills? Too many pills - being forced into her mouth.
"Wesley, what is wrong with you??"
"I have to kill papa, mama."
"August - I didn't mean it -"
"Here, pretty children."
The thick, overwhelming stench of perfume.
"Kelsey! Snap out of it, soldier! We-"
An image appears: An older man, hunched over his desk, a large sword sticking out of the back of his head. The blonde boy steps back and starts to cry.
One sentence is heard, disconnected from this scene.
"I want to be God."
(And that's my dream sequence! You can have Francis wake up whenever, but there it is, the dream! I enjoy including these since I can work in exposition and symbolism and stuff.)
