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19 August 2007 @ 07:37 pm
Theatrical Muse: Week 192: Question 192  
Name: Dr. Sid Hammerback

Fandom: CSI: New York

Word Count: 650


Write about a recurring dream you've had. (Or, if you've never had one, write about the most vivid dream you can remember.)


Sometimes he dreams about her. He doesn’t dream about them that often, and he feels guilty, feels somehow, that he should, so the occupation of his unconscious mind, on them all, can be equally shared between all three people. The conclusion is reached, after some thought, that maybe it is better that he isn’t forced so often to imagine reliving it through their eyes, because when he does, just infrequently as it happens, he always wakes up choked, tears steaming fresh down his face, curled up and shaking.

When he dreams of Marianne’s death, the same thing happens, but there’s always this overwhelming calm just before he wakes up. In the moment between sleep and waking, he can feel it wash over him, just a faint coating, and when he is awake, he can move sooner, think straighter more quickly than he can when it’s Michael or Christopher that are the focus of his nightmares. He still has nightmares though, over five years later, and he’s gotten used to sometimes working double shifts if he simply can’t face it. He is accustomed to the chronic and sometimes not so chronic insomnia that pushes him into staying awake some time longer than he really should. Year by year he gets just a little more sleep, and sometimes if someone is needed for the next shift, he isn’t always the first one to put down his name, but not much has changed. Sometime after they all died, he somehow just reached a happy kind of restless medium, and he manages it as it rises and falls in strength and to what extent it can torture him.

Whoever eyes he is forced to see it through, whoever it is that he simply might be watching, as he dreams of them, they are all, always there. He had been to her desk often enough, when it had been there, on her floor, when the towers had been standing, to well remember the layout of the area, the arranging of things around the place. He sees her, or sees through her eyes, and she is getting things ready, talking to Christopher and Michael, explaining what she is doing, what they will be doing that day. How daddy might pick them up later, or maybe, they might go home early and get an ice cream, or go out for dinner. It’s always something hopeful like that, never is she aware of what will come.

Something in her clicks though, and she looks up, looks around. People are pointing, screaming, running, and he can see her mind whirl and turn about, tossing over, in miniscule fragments of seconds, all the possibilities of what she can do to save their children, to allow her and them, to continue living, to escape. She grabs them, grabs Chris and Mike, and starts pulling, running fleeing, and there is not much crying, so much terror and panic and sadness, and then, pain. In a bright, fleeting explosion, there is pain, and then, nothing, and he wakes up, sweating, shivering, cold and choked, feeling as if something were dragging him down and he has suddenly been let free, to rise to the surface, to continue onwards.

Sid knows that they would have been some of the first to die as fire and explosions rocked and crumbled the floors around, below and above them. He knew where she would have been at that moment, and knew that there was never, especially now, after all these years, a very big or relevant chance that he might find any of what was left of her body, their bodies. He still dreamed of them though, still relived moments that had never been his, and, he couldn’t help it. It was, after all that time, one of the last links he had left to the day that had brought down his world, and irrevocably changed it, forever.
 
 
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