/Alice awoke in start and was covered in a cold sweat. She glanced over and saw Alan asleep next to her in the bed. She shook her head and sighed. Every night this past week since she had woken up in Hartman’s lodge she had been having weird dreams.
Not just weird- but terrifying. Dreams of Alan tracing knives through her flesh and parting it as easily as tissue paper fell apart in rain. It was making it more and more difficult to get some rest. She sat up and was surprised she didn’t bother him in doing so. Usually he was such a light sleeper.
She brought her hands up and covered her eyes with her palms and without thinking about it she took Alan’s closest hand to her in hers./
/Scratch groaned as he came to. The grip on his fingers was too tight. He didn’t exactly need sleep but he enjoyed it nonetheless. He was fond of the little adventures and trips down memory lane his subconsciousness could bring. He opened one eye and blearily looked up at his “wife”. She was staring down at him intently, like she didn’t quite recognize him. That probably should have set alarm bells off but instead he stretched out lazily before he spoke./
Alice? What’s wrong?
/Alice could feel how hard her nails dug into the back of Alan’s hand. She’d at least eave deep crescents if she didn’t draw blood. She was trying to reassure herself that he was real - here - and not a figment of her imagination. He wasn’t dark haired man who laughed and mean her scream./
I- it’s just…
/Alice brought her free hand to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose./
Just a bad dream.