It’s not easy to hide things from Ruuel. But all this talk about visualisations and methods of focusing your mind has been very handy. All the time during today’s session I was counting. Listening to what he said and keeping count took a lot of effort, and lessened the amount of energy I could devote to feeling stupidly dejected. He at least didn’t act as if he could tell I was upset.
All along I’ve had a sense that he and Taarel are together. They make a great couple, really. And like the Kalrani said, who could compete with her? Even if you ignore little issues of our comparative looks, I’m someone who’s still afraid to sleep in her own bedroom. Someone who has to be babysat.
It’s stupid to be upset to hear someone say no more than I already knew – that people think they’re together, but aren’t sure. But I’ve spent the evening worrying about what I’m going to dream tonight, and stayed up incredibly late and can barely keep my eyes open. Being upset is one of the triggers for my nightmares. And even if Isten Notra is the first person reviewing what I dream, that’s no guarantee others won’t see it. And I can’t talk about it to anyone at all.
Which at least means I have a huge amount of motivation to get this release trigger thing absolutely right first time. I don’t think I’ve ever been so determined to do something in my life.
I’m going to do a counting dots visualisation. And every dot is going to have This is a dream written on it. And every dot will be a release trigger to get me out of the dream. And I will be in a room which is nothing but dots, and every one of them a release trigger. And I don’t care if I wake up a thousand times tonight, kicking myself out of my dreams: that’s the only thing I’m going to dream.
Ghost just showed up and got very annoyed with me for squeezing her so tightly.
Thursday, June 5
A short history of
I’m glad I’ve been told to go back to sheep. I did manage to dream of being surrounded by buttons saying "This is a dream". But they were all paintings of buttons. Corridor after corridor of paintings of buttons, and me wandering endlessly through them trying to find the right one to push. It was a long night of feeling exhausted and alone – and all the time feeling watched, though I couldn’t see the drone this time. I wasn’t scared, and obviously wasn’t churning out enough power to have anyone feel the need to come wake me up, but just because I didn’t give myself a heart attack didn’t mean I didn’t feel totally battered and done in by it all.
And woke missing Ruuel like hell, worse than ever. What is it going to take to stop me feeling this way about him?
At any rate, I had breakfast with Lohn and Mara, since I was supposed to be training with them before they went on rotation. I had to talk Mara out of sending me to medical, but I’m really glad we chatted since with them I find it easier to admit what a wuss I am, and how stressed I’d gotten about not wanting people to see my dreams. I guess it is kind of odd, since it was a private conversation with Lohn and Mara being made into television which had me so upset. Maybe it’s all the hugs which makes them easy to talk to.
One thing Lohn said really struck me – that if I can control what I dream about, being able to project my dreams in such intense detail is really an opportunity. I could show him what surfing looked like, for instance. That’s a nice idea, changing the drone from an intrusive spy to a handy recording device. The big problem is the presumption that I can manage anything resembling control, given how badly I failed last night.
We did some mild training, and grabbed a light mid-morning meal before First Squad went into rotation. Then I had weapons training, which being drained and tired really did not help with. Drake was very tolerant, which is one good thing about him having low expectations for me. After that, I went up to the roof, and admired the sheer blackness of the approaching thunderclouds while I tried to think up a way to tell Ruuel that maybe someone else should train me after all. It was hard to come up with a reason that didn’t sound wildly insulting, or underline that the problem was just that I was too emotionally messed up about him. I’d rather not have to deal with him at all for a while – not until I stop waking up knowing he’s not near me.
Everything I could come up with sounded so feeble, and I had just decided that I’d put off changing trainers till tomorrow when I felt someone standing to my left. The Nuran, Inisar.
"Hello again," I said, after a moment. I’m sure if anyone was paying attention to my vitals monitor they would have noticed a huge spike, but since he was just standing there, all I did was add: "Another rescue attempt, or something else this time?"
"Do you no longer choose to aid the Tarens?"
The question was so neutral I couldn’t tell if he was simply curious, or was ready to cart me off through the Rift as soon as I said yes. Or kill me if I didn’t.
"No." I stayed sitting down, though I had to lean back a little to look up at him. "Situation hasn’t gotten better. More Ionoth, more gates. Don’t see how I can walk away from that. I had a – well, I have lots of questions, but I particularly wanted to ask what Cruzatch are."
"What do you think they are?" he asked. Totally unhelpful.
"Muinans become Ionoth. Trying to make themselves immortal. Or into gods. Or both. And now trying to stop Tarens because Tarens reached the point where they can move about spaces and find Pillars and turn them off. Do the Cruzatch drive massives to attack Nurans too?"
"I have been forbidden to answer questions."
That made me feel nervous, since if he wasn’t here to talk, kidnapping or assassination moved up the list. "Just here to look at the scenery?"
His eyes – rather too like Ruuel’s for my comfort – considered me steadily. "I am commanded to observe your development as a touchstone. While I am here I am to avoid all contact with any of the lost children of Muina."
The rules-lawyering made me smile. He wasn’t quite answering my questions, and he wasn’t talking to a Muinan-descendant. "Following instructions very exactly. I don’t know which bits of what’s happening to me are the touchstone part, but just lately I’ve started projecting my dreams into the Ena. If that’s what being a touchstone is, would appreciate a few hints as to how not to have dreams. Or at least stop half-killing myself with them."
"Control is not a thing gained during sleep," he said, and handed me a book. I glanced down at it, very surprised, and when I looked up again he was gone.
"Straight answers not a thing gained from Nurans," I muttered, and sighed, then looked with extreme interest at the book.
It was handmade, the paper creamy and lightly textured, with firmly sewn bindings forming a thick solid edge. The covers were plain wooden boards, fine and undecorated. The whole thing looked newly made, and when I opened it the writing was dark and cleanly written. And in Old Muinan, which I have as much chance of reading and understanding as Old English. I snorted, but carefully went through it page by page, committing them to my log – and hoping for useful illustrations.