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Nothing. It felt as useful as any other interrogation I’d done recently.
Hell, I was asking something in adream. It was probably nothing more than my own manifestation of fear. It was telling me what I wanted to hear, not what was real.
It showed me a woman and a baby because I craved being wanted so badly that it concocted that.
“You’re just a big grouping of trauma and neurosis, aren’t you?” I sat, the hard ground beneath me. It felt like packed sand with tiny rocks, but I didn’t bother to look. Who really cared what the ground of a dream was made of?
I was just exhausted, even mid-dream, and standing felt like too much work.
“I’m so tired of not being enough,” I admitted. Why not use the thing as my own personal sounding board? It wasn’t like it could go tell anyone else. “I can’t do what I need to do. I’m letting everyone down, and I’m just…” I sighed and leaned forward. “I’m not enough.”
The mist creature settled before me, as if mimicking my stance. It moved its hand, and the mist changed between us.
It solidified to create a scene and showed a bird in water. It flapped its wings, struggling against the current of a stream, but before long it disappeared beneath the current. After that, it showed the same bird hopping on the ground after a snake. The snake twisted, rearing back and striking. It wound around the bird, and eventually the bird went still.
Quite the pep talk, subconscious.
The last scene had the bird in the air, its wings out. It dove, angling the wings back, its feet forward, and it caught a squirrel on the ground.
After that happened, the mist faded back into the normal swirling nothingness.
I frowned, trying to make sense of what I was trying to tell myself. “You know, it would be more useful if you—well, I—could just tell me what I need to know, instead of this nonsense.”
The figure didn’t respond, as if it had given me all I needed in that pseudo-metaphysical lesson.
I sighed and shook my head. I was the cause of all this so why did I think I’d have the answers? Hadn’t I proven I wasn’t trustworthy when it came to good choices?
Something echoed through the mist. A roar?
The figure rose, a slow movement that didn’t signal concern.
I’d never heard anything in the mist of my dreams before, which made me frown.
It happened again, and that was when it hit me. It wasn’t in my dream. It was something from the real world, something that made me jerk awake.
Whatever was making that noise was in a killing mood, and I doubted it was going to be friendly with me.
