While I did indulge in Roman Tea yesterday afternoon, I made sure to be sober long before bed. I was feeling quite apprehensive about dreaming. A little chat with Sir Nathaniel, a little chuckle over the image of a turtle with a top hat. A little hugging and abiding with Head In Chest. He still doesn’t talk but since I’ve been giving him daily hugs he has been much more at ease. A real hug, given freely and with no expectation of following action. Just the comfort of someone just being there. Sometimes he cries. Sir Nathaniel said since coming to the house he has never seen HIC actually smile and relax until I started paying attention to him.
A little bitching from Horatio. Jealous? He says I’m spoiling HIC and setting a bad precedent. “You don’t even know how he died! What if he deserved to wander rejected?” That disturbed Sir Nathaniel, and me.
“And how did you die? What did you do for your head to be on the Rummer’s table? What secrets are you hiding from me about your life before? For someone that claims to know only toil and hunger, you have an understanding that would say otherwise.”
Horatio said nothing at first. When he did, he was strangely quiet and somber. “That’s dead history. All that matters is I’m bound to you now, Master. And you should probably get some sleep.”
I have suspicions and half-stirred theories, but those are not for here.
He did have a point. If I’m going to have a better chance of getting some answers, I need to descend into deeper sleep. I went to the lair. But Snake was absent. I sat down to wait for him.
The alarm clock brought me sharply to the Waking. Memories of smoke, warbling voices, and the kicking up of dust melted into frayed strands. I knew this was a continuation of the previous three dreams. I knew the Rummer was involved.
I know I won’t be allowed to remember anything more until the Rummer allows. If he allows.