In her dreams Donna always stands in different worlds, worlds that somehow, strangely enough, call out to her and tell her she’s come home.
Sometimes the worlds are clear and recognizable. There’s a huge library and beautiful snow covered lands and ancient cities she thinks might be Rome (or Greece, truthfully she’s never been that interested in history. She only knows it’s an ancient city because her dream self knows.) At other times the worlds all blur together until they suddenly become one and she finds herself standing in a library covered in snow. Stranger than those worlds is that feeling of having come home, of walking through the snow and thinking ‘I’ve been here’ and ‘this is where I belong.’ And her heart aches and tears shine in her eyes.
It doesn’t make sense and yet, at the same time, it completely makes sense, in that strange abstract way that dreams always make sense when you’re asleep.
(And then you wake and that feeling slips away along with the details of what you’ve dreamt and you’re left with a handful of snapshots that really make no sense at all.)
In all her dreams – the clear and the not so clear – there’s a song, always in the background, floating through the air like magic. It’s happy and incredibly sad at the same time, and it makes her laugh and cry. She feels, somehow, that it’s about her and yet not about her, which doesn’t make sense either. (And yet, it does, in that strange abstract way.)
And there’s a man.
Young and filled with energy, always running and smiling and talking – though she can’t actually hear a word he says, well she hears the sounds but she can’t make out the words. She doesn’t know if that’s because he’s not talking clearly, or she’s deaf in her dreams, or if her subconscious simply can’t decide what he’s saying, so he says nothing and there’s just random sounds. When he smiles at her his whole face lights up but there’s a sadness in his eyes that makes her want to reach out and hug him. He’s her friend, she knows this, her best friend even, but despite the fact that she tries to retain the memory she can never recall his face when she wakes. But then a lot of details slip away when her eyes fly open.
(Sometimes her dreams are nightmares, they never last long, just a few seconds, but it always makes her heart stop. Sometimes people die in the library, sometimes the snow mountains come down on top of them and they freeze to dead. Once the ancient city burns to the ground as they stand and watch.)
There are others in her dreams too.
There’s a girl in army clothes, all blond hair and happiness, running by their side. For some reason dreaming about her always makes her sad, though Donna can’t really remember anything about her when she wakes, just that she was there. There’s another woman who looks at her with sad eyes, and a man that’s always laughing wearing – what she thinks – is a WWII coat, but then she might be wrong. There are two other girls, young and brave, one’s a wolf and the other a doctor (and that doesn’t make sense either, but then what does?)
And all of them, without a fail, look at her like she matters.
Like she’s special.
They look at her, really, in the way her grandfather looks at her.
And for a moment, in her dreams, she believes them.
Believes she is more than a simple temp from Chiswick.
But then she wakes and the dreams fade away, like water slipping through her fingers, and though she tries all she really remembers is that she was standing in different worlds.
Donna likes those dreams.
It makes her wonder about what she will do with her life. It makes her wonder if those beautiful dreams of her traveling and meeting new people will ever come true.
And it makes her wonder what she would do if those dreams were ever to come true.