With Yuri, there had been a bit of buyer's paralysis. So many nightmare had lurked in her subconscious, septic and overflowing, cackling at her at night, so many bad experiences, mind rapes, near deaths...
In the end, it had become a sample plate, a mashup, a clip show.
Presenting:
...Borg's grinning maw the first time she had to put him on. Tongue lolled obscenely then described a circle that licked green trails across her face.
...Cornered by the Ushigata. Hoof-arms as hard as those of an Ankylosaurus hammered at the feeble shield of Borg's wings. The impact vibrated her small bones. She stayed curled up. "Oh no...Oh no! Oh no! Stop! Stop!"
...The death of her first Borg. Ambushed in the alien depository (already a place for nightmares: dank, dark, ramshackle, squeaking of the corrugated steel roof blending with the unearthly sound of the captives there). Three boys, and they had pierced the Borg with their false imitations of him. Something had unlocked within her and her symbiont. His skin had fallen away. Out came his true body, white flowing hair. The slaughter that followed was something else. So was the all night crying.
...Kasumi plopping from the skin of the dead Yellow Knife creature, naked and slimy as if just birthed. She had lept onto Kumi and those light and delicate looking hands had closed on her friend's throat.
...The Sunflower landing on her head, spreading a sleepy somnabulant apathy over her. She no longer wanted to resist it. Those thoughts were from a previous life, an incorrect one. Now it was time to kill the aliens. No not your friends. Aliens. A-l-i-e-n-s. Trust us. You want to do this. There's a good girl.
After the initial scream, Yuri pulled the furry, living blanket back over herself. She knew better than to bother people every time she had a nightmare. Noone had time for the number she had, even if this one had been particularly vivid.
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In the end, it had become a sample plate, a mashup, a clip show.
Presenting:
...Borg's grinning maw the first time she had to put him on. Tongue lolled obscenely then described a circle that licked green trails across her face.
...Cornered by the Ushigata. Hoof-arms as hard as those of an Ankylosaurus hammered at the feeble shield of Borg's wings. The impact vibrated her small bones. She stayed curled up. "Oh no...Oh no! Oh no! Stop! Stop!"
...The death of her first Borg. Ambushed in the alien depository (already a place for nightmares: dank, dark, ramshackle, squeaking of the corrugated steel roof blending with the unearthly sound of the captives there). Three boys, and they had pierced the Borg with their false imitations of him. Something had unlocked within her and her symbiont. His skin had fallen away. Out came his true body, white flowing hair. The slaughter that followed was something else. So was the all night crying.
...Kasumi plopping from the skin of the dead Yellow Knife creature, naked and slimy as if just birthed. She had lept onto Kumi and those light and delicate looking hands had closed on her friend's throat.
...The Sunflower landing on her head, spreading a sleepy somnabulant apathy over her. She no longer wanted to resist it. Those thoughts were from a previous life, an incorrect one. Now it was time to kill the aliens. No not your friends. Aliens. A-l-i-e-n-s. Trust us. You want to do this. There's a good girl.
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After the initial scream, Yuri pulled the furry, living blanket back over herself. She knew better than to bother people every time she had a nightmare. Noone had time for the number she had, even if this one had been particularly vivid.