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Connection book one: initium novum

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Sierra wasn't one to have vivid dreams all to often, even less so dreams she remembered when she woke up. Only faints images and feelings from them. Wisps of sights and sounds that her subconscious had conjured up while she slept. That she didn't mind to much, it was the dreams she remembered all too well that worried her. The many dreams she could remember very well were less than pleasant most of the time, strange Tim burton-esqe nightmares where everything and anything was possible. A faint nightmare that she could remember that she had one time all the way back in fifth grade during a weekend she had spent with just her and her mother. The night before she had fallen asleep was less than pleasant before hand, thanks to many horror movies previews showing up on a channel she and her mother had been watching a show on. A preview for a saw movie having been one of them, it wasn't the preview itself that spooked her. It had been the damn jigsaw puppet's face that had frightened her that night. She struggled that night when she attempted to sleep but images of a giant Chameleon with jigsaws stupid face on it had shaken her subconscious. After four or three times she had struggled fitfully to attempt falling asleep before she finally gave up and decided to shamefully ask her mom if she could sleep in her bed.

The other dreams she could remember well were more realistic, visions of school desks that she would sit at in school, or a task she would be doing, or of a conversation she'd have. All of which eventually would occur in the waking world and with it the strange yet now common feeling of déjà vu that she was now comfortable with, due to having dealt with the feeling so many times now in her life. Than were the last ones the ones that she could never forget in her life, a dream of a field full of flowers and peaceful birdsong, or the one where she'd travel through the forest to a beach where her spirit animal would often be there awaiting her. Than there was of course the ones she'd want to forget the most, a vast blackness that would swallow her up as she seemed to fall forever into eternity, or her least favorite one of them all. The one and only dream she ever had consecutively.

for her entire junior year of high school straight without fail, a dream that had felt too real and had frightened her so much whenever she thought about it. The dream was always the same, her standing alone in a treeless field, feet burning as they touched the ground. A hellish heat that seemed too real to be fake then of course the blood red sky with the sun a giant ball of white light in the center of it. Then the hundreds upon hundreds of torn and mangled bodies that surrounded her. Arms bent in impossible directions, legs seemingly ripped into pieces, bodies and lower half's torn open and ripped apart organs splayed about around them. Viscera covering the ground heavily, and the faces. For some reason that she could never get behind, the faces of the bodies were always intact, as if she needed to see them, hair sprawled around their faces that were always wearing the same expressions. Ones of pure animalistic fear, hate, and a sadness she could never grasp fully. Even worse was that many of the bodies were of people she knew in the waking world. Her mother's tangled and desecrated corpse twisted at an horrid angle, head staring up at the sky eyes wide and unseeing. Than was the many faces of people she had never met in her life, even the face of one of the friends she made the very next year was among them long curly red hair framing her face that was twisted into one of pure morning.

Of course Sierra would be the only one standing before them all. Dressed in nothing but a white knee length dress, her long dirty blond hair blowing in the wind as she would stare on in horror at the nightmare before her. Only then would the voices speak, near ethereal voices would come from nowhere and scream out how it was her fault for the massacre before her. She of course would feel the burning heat around her even more intense than before as they would yell louder words of blame and hatred at her. Then she would see the cloaked figure before her, the only other figure standing in the field. There hood obscuring their face as she would yell in pain and morning "why!!" The figure always said nothing and would just start to take off there hood to reveal their face but Sierra always seemed to wake up at that point without fail. Even nearly six years later she struggled to bury the memory of that dream as much as she could.

But of course she never had that nightmare of a dream again, after a whole year of losing sleep because of it. The dream simply stopped one day a week before she started her senior year. She never questioned it, just took the now peaceful and serene dreams she had now. Dreams of falling still happened, as did others, but thankfully much to her gratitude the dream she had for that whole year never showed it's face again. Only feelings of unease would raise its head whenever she saw a open field, or the rare occasion she would be drifting off daydreaming and would blink to see the world in front of her change briefly into the red nightmarish world from her dream. Only for her to rub at her eyes or close them briefly before looking again and seeing the world returned to how it was before.

A part of her prayed that the dream wasn't of the future or something of the sort. She had spent long nights avoiding sleep during her senior year trying to forget the world she had seen in her dreams. She had told her family members that she thought would care, about her dream and her worries that it was an omen for what was to come in the future. But they simply told her that it had been an awful nightmare even though a deep primal part of her demanded that she say something to them. In the end she gave up telling her family about it and decided she'd only tell those she trusted that wouldn't brush her worries off. She told her girlfriend Samantha, her friends she held close to her heart, and they all listened more than her own family did. She still had her visions on a regular basis, along with the strained emotional pain and anger she'd feel one day and feel sad and mournful the next moment. A sadness that seemed to last for days on end no matter what she did to attempt cheering herself up.

She always chalked it up to her depression, but the assumption would always go away when she'd hear about the newest set of bad news that would finally reach her. Migraines and panic that she would feel when the London bombings would happen. Great sadness that would fill her when she'd wake up the day that the France bombings happened. Feelings she'd feel before news of said events would even reach her. After a while of events like that, she eventually just stopped feeling them so strongly and she'd feel empty for the rest of the day. An emptiness that she despised with a burning passion. She eventually just ignored the feelings she'd feel toward the bombings and terrorist attacks.

She just didn't care about a lot of things on earth anymore. She only cared about those she loved, and the few hobbies she had. She would brush off every new horrible thing she'd hear from the news and would turn around and drown herself in music and story's that could take her away from the world briefly. Cartoons and comics took her attention, internet memes and jokes were her escape. Her self deprecating jokes her outlet that all of her family seemed to grimace at, but she didn't care. She hadn't cared about herself for a long time, only cared that she had to make sure that she didn't die yet. She still had people who cared for her so she would paint on a mask of a clown that laughed obnoxiously at bad puns and dad jokes. All to make those around her comfortable, to her that was all she cared for. As long as Sierra Mitchell could make someone smile and laugh she'd be happy and content to ignore the gnawing feeling that there was somewhere else she could be, making a name for herself.

She didn't mind that she was working a minimum wage job at a dollar store, she didn't care that she was living in an apartment that was nearly two blocks from her job, and she definitely didn't worry about how claustrophobic everything was around her.
It didn't and it never would.
She was fine.
Everything was fine.

Than again,
She never was all too great at lying to herself.