number_eight | 192 - Vivid or Recurring Dreams

I never used to have recurring dreams until recently.

I'm running.

I can hear Hera, but she's somehow away from me. I can't reach her. It's like she's there, just out of reach, only I don't know exactly where she is or where I am, either.

I keep running, and that's when I realize that I'm wearing my flight suit, like I just stepped out of my Raptor. It's also when I first begin to see things coming into focus, as if you're turning a kaleidoscope one way and all the pieces begin to shift and move into place. Somehow, I'm on Kobol. More than that, I'm in the Opera House on Kobol that's been destroyed. In my dreams, though, it's in perfect condition.

Hera is laughing to herself, and that's when I also realize that she isn't the Hera that I know. This Hera is older somehow. She's a toddler, walking along on her own path. My Hera that I rescued from the Cylons isn't more than two years old. They say dreams rarely make sense, but something in my gut tells me I have to find Hera.

I hear her. Not Hera, rather, but President Roslin, and she's calling out for my daughter, too. She's dressed differently than I've ever seen her, and our eyes meet across this… well, gap in the building. I'm on one set of stairs, and President Roslin is on another. My mother's instinct takes over, though, and I start running again. It's not a race between the president and myself, but it feels like it could be. We're both running to save my daughter – who isn't my daughter – from some invisible force.

Then there she is. My daughter, being scooped up into the arms of one the Six models. I can't tell in my dream if it's the one onboard Galactica or not, and I don't know if she's going to take my daughter away from me, either. I just keep running, but there's a light, so bright on the stage of the Opera House, shining into my eyes and then…

Nothing. I wake up, screaming, every time.

I guess it wouldn't be as bad if it was just a dream, but the moment my eyes met President Roslin's, I knew something… something between us was unspoken, and I woke, screaming, clinging to my crying daughter in sick bay just as President Roslin did a few feet away from us. She spoke to me once I'd calmed Hera down, and then we knew the impossible had happened again. It was confirmed when we went down to the jail cell holding Caprica and she told us she'd had the same dream. The same frakking dream.

I'm scared for Hera. I'm scared for us all. But I'm mostly scared because for the first time in my life as a Cylon, I'm not making my own conscious choices anymore.

Muse : Sharon "Athena" Agathon
Fandom : Misc. TV/"Battlestar Galactica"
Word Count : 483