Recurring Dreams (Shiori Sato)
|Recurring Dreams (Shiori Sato)|
|Date of Cutscene:||05 August 2015|
|Location:||The Sato Residence|
|Synopsis:||Strange dreams disturb Shiori Sato's sleep this night. He's had them before, but they were never this vivid before. Never this REAL...|
|Cast of Characters:||Shiori Sato|
...Trees whip by at an amazing rate. From the point of view, it looks like he's leaping through them, agile as a cat. The sense of freedom up here is so great... as if it were one of the few times he could feel truly free....
...A blade slashes before him, swung by his own hand. There's a strange sense of disconnect, as if it's not really him, but he was watching the events from somewhere just behind the person's eyes...
...A knife held pointing downwards in his hand, a woman he knows to be a priestess before him. The blade is meant for her, he knows. But there is a sick feeling in his stomach as he faces her...
...Looking up from the ground as a man in red, samurai sword in hand, pointed the blade down at him. The edge of the blade is far too close to his throat for comfort. Behind the red-clad samurai is the priestess, reaching out to him...
...Red. Everything is painted red. It's hard to tell if it's fire or blood. That samurai in red faces him again, but his features are twisted, warped somehow, in rage. The blade comes too close, it's either him or the priestess. The feeling of dread, anticipating the pain of the strike, flinging himself between the twisted samurai and the priestess....
Shiori bolted upright in bed, sweat damp on the cold skin of his brow. It takes him a moment to get his bearings. To realize where he is. And when he does, he begins to calm. He exhales deeply, scrubbing a hand over his face. These are definitely recurring dreams. But they've never been that disruptive to his sleep before. They've never woken him from a sound sleep. So... why now?
His father's voice. He looks up to the source of the sound, and blinks. He can see his outline, fuzzy and indistinct without his glasses, standing in the opened door of his room. "Shiori, are you all right? I heard you call out..."
"Yeah... yeah, I'm okay, Dad. Just a nightmare," he assures his father.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.
With a shake of his head, Shiori refuses gently, "Nah. It was just a nightmare. Dreams are just your brain telling you 'Jellyfudge the dizzlefrazzle before the frogsheet is yarnbowl'."
There's a pause from his father. "...What?"
"Exactly," Shiori answers. "The subconscious speaks in metaphor." He smiles. "I'll be all right, Dad. Thanks, though."
"If you're sure," the older man agrees. "Sleep well, kiddo."
"Thanks," Shiori replies. Then as his father moves away from the door, Shiori turns over on his side, facing away from the door. But he doesn't immediately go back to sleep. He thinks about that nightmare.
Recurring dreams are one thing. But tonight... tonight these actually scared him. What can his mind be trying to tell him that's so important it had to frighten him so badly?
...Shiori is not going to get much sleep tonight...