Chapter 2: Accepting Reality

And suddenly I awoke. I was somewhere dark, and quite confused. What had happened after the pyre had burnt itself out? I wasn't comfortable, exactly, but I was lying on something semi-soft. I stayed still, trying to get my bearings, when I finally noticed the soft beeping, the discomfort in my hand. An IV. I was in a hospital, again. The rest of it came rushing back - the blackouts, the dreams, the bus bench I had collapsed onto. I could feel the tears trickle down my face. All of it - the horror, the fighting, the blood, the digging, that baby ... all of it was a dream. I rolled over, careful of the IV, and sobbed. What on earth was wrong with me? A nurse hustled in, noticing my movement. She laid a sympathetic hand on my shoulder while I cried. Eventually she helped me sit up, checking my vitals and my IV, before promising to get the doctor.

"Wait. How ... how long? How long was I unconscious?"

"Almost two days. You had us scared. I'm glad to see you back awake. Try to relax now, okay? But don't fall asleep just yet."

I took mental stock of my body. I didn't have a catheter this time. That was good. Just one IV, and it looked to only be running fluid. Also good. I didn't feel hazy, like I'd been given any meds. Another check on the good side. However, unlike previous blackouts, I hurt. Everywhere. My back was in agony, and I wondered how long I had been slumped on that bus bench before the paramedics came. My feet and my hands were the next items that bothered me. I sat up further, turning up the lights, to get a better look, and stopped, stunned.

Both of my palms were covered in blisters. My nails were chipped, and in some places torn off. They reminded me of the time I tried to take up gardening, with disastrous results. They looked ... like I had been digging. A lot. I checked my feet next, and discovered they also were not in good shape. I had a few superficial splinters, several scrapes, and some blisters there as well. What the hell?

I was still sitting, motionless, staring, when the doctor arrived. I'd met this one before, and sighed with relief as I saw him come through the door - he was one of the nice ones. One of the few who didn't think I was an escaped psych patient. I still covered my feet and clasped my hands together so he wouldn't see what I had discovered.

"I'm glad you're awake, Sierra."

"Hey, doc. Come here often?"

He laughed, and pulled over a stool.

"It's getting worse, isn't it?"

I nodded. "Two days, this time. It's my new record." He smiled, but I could see a shadow of worry in his face. "I had no idea panic attacks could be like this."

"They aren't panic attacks, Sierra. I don't know what they are, but I can tell you, they aren't that."

"How do you know?"

"Well ... a lot of ways. I mean, you aren't awake at all, during those times. You don't respond to pain. No panic attack leaves someone unable to respond to pain. This time, we did an EEG while you were out. Tracing your brain waves? I thought maybe it was some weird form of seizure..."

I nodded in understanding. I'd heard of EEGs. I'd had one, once, earlier on in the blackout progression.

"Well, not only was it not a seizure ... Sierra, I've never seen an EEG like this. It was completely flat. Even brain death leaves a particular pattern. You never, never, see one that's completely flat. I don't have the slightest idea what could cause that."

Now I was worried. Well, more worried. "Was I dead?"

"No, no. I mean, you were breathing, your heart was beating. There was no sign of anything wrong. Just ... it was like no one was home." He paused. "Do you remember anything? I've always had the feeling you weren't telling me everything. I'm not going to tell anyone things you want kept confidential, but anything could help. Please."

I studied his face, thinking. Finally I decided to tell part of the truth, and see how he reacted.

"I ... was dreaming."

"Dreaming?" I nodded. "About what?"

"Oh, you know. Dream stuff. Nightmares, really. You know, monsters and dragons. That sort of thing."

"That would certainly explain the screaming when you woke up, sometimes."

I nodded sheepishly.

"But ... did you dream this time?" When I nodded again, he continued, "But ... that's just not..." he stopped, obviously thinking. I waited.

"That's not possible! I had the EEG running all night, and most of today. If you'd been dreaming, I should have seen a REM sleep pattern. There wasn't." He looked up again. "There's something else, I can see it on your face. Will you tell me?"

I bit my lip, trying to decide. Maybe he'd lock me away in the psych ward.

Maybe that's where I belong. I finally nodded.

I turned my hands over, holding out my damaged palms, and pulling up the blankets so he could see my feet. He looked at them, his face flickering from confused, to surprised, to ... concerned? Angry? I couldn't tell. He got up, assuring me he'd be right back, and stepped out. He came back momentarily with an armful of supplies, and shut the door in the face of a red-faced nurse. He settled back onto a stool, opening up supplies, and took to coating my hands and feet with a sick-smelling, greasy substance. It took a few seconds before the pain eased off, and I smiled gratefully. Thank god for topical painkillers. He then proceeded to wash out my wounds, pulling out splinters and scrubbing away dirt, all the while muttering curses under his breath about the incompetence that no one noticing my injuries. I got the impression it was aimed at himself as much as anyone else. Finally satisfied, he eyed some of the larger splinters he'd removed speculatively, before raising an eyebrow and meeting my gaze.

"Want to tell me where those all came from? Some of the ones in your feet look like pine needles. Where on earth would you get pine splinters?"

"That's just it. Nowhere. I live here. Downtown, even. I haven't left the city in months. There aren't any parks around, and even if there were ... I don't make a habit of going there barefoot, in the middle of winter. It may not be snowing yet, but ... I'm pretty sure if I'd been walking around barefoot, you'd be treating frostbite, not splinters. I don't do heavy labour. I don't garden. I have absolutely no idea how I could have blisters and splinters. I ... am I going crazy?"

"If you're asking that, probably not." He smiled. "Crazy people are notorious for thinking they're sane. They don't question."

I laughed.

"But if you're asking that ... you have some idea of how they got there, don't you. You're afraid I'll lock you up. Am I right?" I looked away, miserable, finally nodding. "I won't. I promise. I don't think you're crazy. Try me, okay?"

I let a few tears slip, before finally, finally describing my dream. I avoided calling them darkspawn, leaving it as 'monsters', and I left out the details of the upcoming battle and the name of the king I'd heard the women discussing, but otherwise I told him everything. The fight, the death, trying to bury all of those people. Barefoot, because my shoes were uncomfortable and I hadn't thought to reclaim them. I was openly sobbing by the end. He just sat, looking confused. I'm sure my expression echoed his, with the addition of the grief. He finally shook his head, trying to give me a reassuring smile, and took his leave. I cried a little while longer, and then lay in the bed, wondering when the straight jacket was coming.

Two more boring days later, they released me from hospital again. Nothing further had come of my tests, and my waking EEG was normal. The doctor told me he'd spent some time looking up causes of a flat EEG, or dreaming causing injuries, but found nothing. I could tell he was reluctant to let me go, but there was nothing demonstrably wrong with me. Someone sick needed that bed. So I called a cab and went home. I convinced the cabby to stop for groceries on the way - everything I'd bought had gone missing, somehow - and I finally arrived home four days after leaving 'just for an hour'. What a pain.

Within a few more days my hands and feet had largely healed. I spent some time reading through the Dragon Age wiki, trying to find out if the events I'd been part of were in the game and I'd just forgotten, but found nothing. I tried searching on my own to see if anyone else described out-of-body experiences that were similar, or ended up on Thedas ... all I found were communities of fan fiction writers. Scratch that. Not helping. Wondering when I would black out again, I tried to ensure that I was wearing comfortable boots, and two pairs of socks, and heavy clothing at all times, in case somehow it helped the next time I was pulled to Thedas. So sue me. Blisters and splinters hurt.

That expanded to carrying items in my pockets that I thought would be useful if I ended up stuck there again. Safety pins - I thought about that baby, hoping against hope he was safe. Pencils. Chalk. A compass. A Zippo lighter, full of lighter fluid, wrapped in a Ziploc bag. String. A tiny compact with a mirror. A comb. A print-out of a map of Thedas, from the wiki, also in a bag. A small kinetic powered flashlight, and extra bulbs. A spare pair of panties. I briefly considered buying a taser, but how would I recharge it? I tucked a Swiss army knife into my pants instead. I ordered a kit for purifying water online - something to do with iodine. I took a cab to a travel clinic, told them I was going to Africa, and got shots for everything I could think of, including updating my tetanus. I put a waterproof mattress cover on my bed.

The entire time, I felt like an ass for doing all of it. Planning it, as though I could bring items with me when I was dreaming. I did it anyway. I had nothing to lose. I spent the rest of the time playing the game. It couldn't hurt to remember the details just a little bit better...

The next dizzy spell hit me at home. I was thankful. I had just enough time to flop onto my bed, and hope for a couple of seconds that my stuff would come with me. And then the blackness swallowed me.

When I became aware again, I was in the woods. Somewhere. There was dim light, but I wasn't sure if it was dawn or dusk. I had no idea which way I was facing, and no way to identify which woods I was in. I listened carefully, hearing only the soft noises of birds and other small animals, and wind through the trees. I did a quick personal inventory, shouting for joy when I found my feet in heavy boots, my own clothes, and all the treasures in my pockets. My body had changed, like it had the last time, but somehow my dream clothes still fit my vastly different shape. I thought about that for a few minutes, but then shrugged, recognising that I was going to drive myself mad if I thought about it too hard. I pulled out the tiny compact, wondering what my face looked like in this new body. I looked similar, I decided, though not quite the same as I looked at home. This was almost... like a prettier version of me. My nose was a bit smaller, my cheekbones a bit higher, my eyes a bit greener. I liked it, though it felt weird to think of myself as pretty. My hair was about the same, dark brown, long, and bone straight. Suddenly curious, I put a hand up to my own ear. Round. I'm not an elf, clearly. Huh. I put the compact away.

Chapter 3 »